Yesterday, I was down on Wall Street with the kids and I saw some guy pull out his cell phone and take a video of the Trump sign outside of one of his buildings. I almost took a picture of the guy taking pictures of the Trump building. Because the Trump fans are more mysterious and interesting than the Trump himself.
This is about the weirdest summers on record here at the home that is no longer Apt. 11D.
Some of the weirdness came from the age of the boys. I’m no longer the swim club mom, the buyer of ice pops, the keeper of the pool badges. I never liked the swim club with the bored gossipers and the rubber strapped beach chairs that made red lines on the back of thighs. While I’m thrilled to let the swim club membership lapse, it took us a long time to find new rhythms. Continue reading →
I rarely agree with Limbaugh. But I think he was right when he said about Trump: “There’s a percentage of the population that is totally fed up with the political class, including the media. And they have wanted things said to people and about people… for years and they haven’t heard it. I mean, the media is not loved. The media in some cases is despised, and Trump is giving it right back to ’em in ways that many people in this country have dreamed of happening.”
“As such,” the radio star said of the former NBC host, “he comes off as refreshing. Even when he’s not on message, or not on issues, he comes across as somebody that says things they would like to say … things they have hoped others would say … I don’t think a lot of these big players, including in the media, have any idea who their audiences are … I don’t think they have the slightest idea the size of and the amount of real anger directed at them … It goes so far beyond the fact that they’re biased.”
Like 24 million other people, I watched the Republican debate last Thursday. I was on Twitter with the rest of the political junkies looking for cheap laughs. And there were plenty. And then, improbably, the Trump story keeps on going.
Griping about the hard questions from Megyn Kelly, he said that blood was coming out of her “whatever.” “Whatever.” I could say that over and over. “Whatever” “The Whatever Monologues”
Of course, Donald Trump is a train wreck, PT Barnum, a light weight, sexist, whatever. Of course. Steve, my husband who sees Nazis everywhere, compares his nationalist message with midwar Germany. I love the story that Bill Clinton convinced him to run. I love the story that Murdoch and Ailes are fighting about how to deal with him. Continue reading →