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Leaving Las Vegas

I realized several months ago that this presidency is like Las Vegas. It's bright and shiny in places, and it can impress you if you're not paying attention. When you dig underneath the glitz and glamour, it's all fake and kind of sad.

But now that trashy fakeness turns violent, as tear gas and rubber bullets are fired at peaceful protesters, and journalists. I don't intend to give a rousing defense of all journalists at all times, as if I am Bob Woodward. This is still supposed to be America, and we don't physically attack journalists here.

Forcibly removing protesters with police in riot gear, so that Trump can hold a photo op in front of a church that doesn't want him there, is peak Las Vegas. For their part, they were helping peaceful protesters stay healthy and hydrated. I saw somewhere that they got forced off their own patio.

I feel obliged to mention that extremist elements are using the legitimate outrage over the death of George Floyd to start rioting and looting. I don't support that, to be very clear. The president seems to think that if he can replicate '68, then some newfound groundswell of support will propel him to reelection. Richard Nixon--the worst president in the history of the American Republic--still had more dignity and self-reflection in his little finger than this president does in his whole body. In addition, Nixon was dangerous, because he was cool and calculating. Trump is so impulsive that he is in the process of imploding without any help. There is consolation in that, although not before the man's flagrant lack of character damages the consciences of a great many people even more.

I should probably tick off all the reasons why the standard-issue Democratic presidency of Joe Biden will be bad. Some of my readers are enamored of some notion of "balance," as if I really am obliged to be Bob Woodward. I'm just me, and I think what I think, and I say what I say.

Honestly, I had fun in Vegas for a few days. But it's the kind of fun you can have if you don't look too hard. It's the privilege of being oblivious to another's sadness.

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