Rick Wilson - Sensing Defeat, Trump Cries 'Witch Hunt'


For two years, Donald Trump had fun amidst the mess. He reveled in stage-managing a reality-television version of an executive branch staffed by weak-willed and morally vacant appointees selected more for their ass-kissing skills than for any remote talent in governing or even any talent at all. He consumed every ounce of scenery, and his every desire, whim, and impulse were carried out by White House minions unable to say no. Republican Members of Congress may as well have sported “Property of Donald Trump” forehead tattoos.

During those halcyon days, the power of the Republican House was used to obstruct justice, block the Mueller probe into Russia’s pro-Trump efforts, and to attack the intelligence community in order to protect Team Putin. They were a blocking force against investigations into his taxes, finances, and his administration's misdeeds. Trump has never displayed even the most cursory interest in governing or leadership, but he loves the roar of the crowd, the high-fructose smell of the MAGA set jammed into arenas, his long-running pissing match with the media, and trolling the known universe on Twitter. A supine House was his shield.

Donald Trump, a princeling who was raised in luxury, never held accountable for any of his countless personal and business betrayals and failures, and who literally lived in a golden tower for most of his life, is not good with stress. His rage-tweeting shows us that he knows he can’t juggle all the crises steaming toward him, that he knows his astounding power to distort reality for his followers won’t shield him from the political, legal, and personal perils closing in on him.  

Playtime is over, and Donald doesn't like it.

The electoral beat-down of the midterm elections left him on political terrain that’s a lot less fun than it was in his first two years. He’s never, ever getting his precious Wall. His legislative agenda just crashed and burned. He’s going to face actual congressional oversight, not a daily foot massage from do-boys like Devin Nunes. The investigatory jackboot is on the other foot now, with subpoenas and reports that can’t be tweeted away or dismissed with a Hannitean roar of “But her emails!”.. 




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