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A friend with inexplicable liberal tendencies was wallowing in a blue funk about the state of, well, anything and everything Trump — his prickly insanity, his boorish, endless tweeting, his outrageous gaffes — when he sighed and said wistfully, “Well, it will all be over in about two years.”
Do you really believe that? I asked. Trump’s base still is enamored of him, is still hanging in there, and two years, after all, is a very long time. You could be very wrong, you know? Remember the election? He is the comeback kid in the flesh. Mr. MAGA. Teflon Don. He did everything wrong a human possibly could do wrong during the campaign, and still won. Nobody was more surprised the day after the election than Donald Trump — unless it was Hillary Clinton.
Nah, he said, Donald’s poll numbers stink worse than week-old roadkill. His foreign policy is simple: Tweet us into World War III. He is tying the noose for an already suicide-prone Republican Party; his agenda, whatever it was, fizzled; his promises keep cratering, one after another. He is a lousy president, a laughable, unlikeable fluke, and Americans see it, he said. They will want — they will demand — change. They are afraid of this guy and what he might do.