I recently attended a Trump Rally in Michigan. Wearing my MAGA hat and sleeveless shirt in 50 degree weather, I had no trouble fitting in. Of course, being a legacy Christian, I refused to wear a Trump is God t-shirt. As I mingled among the crowd of Trump supporters, I noticed a curious display of behavior: I witnessed attendees addressing each other unflatteringly — with unmistakeable insults. More astonishingly, those persons insulted didn’t seem to mind. They appeared to enjoy the invectives like people happy to have red wine spilled on their evening wear.
“Hey, what’s up, roly-poly,” said one man to another who wore an ample spare-tire of adipose tissue around his waist. “Not much, you half-wit,” the other answered with a laugh.
“You make the Michelin Man look like Charles Atlas.”
“That’s a good one,” the portly man responded. “And if they put your brain in a matchbox, it would be like a BB rolling around in a boxcar.”
The two men laughed uproariously.
After hearing a series of similar banters, I asked a lady named Alma, who sported a MAGA hat and a t-shirt that read, “Only Donald Trump Can Save humanity,” about this new and curious behavior.
“We love how Donald insults people, and now we know why, it’s empowering.”
“Why it’s pure genius and the ultimate defense for those uppity liberals who come at you with facts or reasoning you can’t understand; now you just put them in their place with an insult. It’s so simple any moron can do it.”
I nodded in feigned agreement and smiled at the irony.
“So now his followers do the same,” she continued, “even to each other as a way to show they are cool with it and part of the same club.”
“Like a cult,” I said
“Oh, no! We ain’t into any of that crazy shit like worshipping false idols. No, we are just red-blooded ‘Mericans who idolize our president.”
“So, I guess being kind and respectful to others is no longer a valued human virtue?” I asked as though I sought more indoctrination.
“Boy, did you forget we are the deplorables?
“I am as deplorable as they come,” I said with faux pride. “But I guess I just didn’t see the genius in reinforcing it in each other.”
“Now you’re gettin’ it, sonny. That’s part of Trump’s smarts, to get us to take pride in our deplorability.”
“Ah, I get it. So when the doctor says you need to lose weight cause you have a better chance of having a coronary than seeing your first grandchild, you just laugh and call him a “quack.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Just about that time a man walked up to Alma and asked, “What’s up, you gin-soaked hussy”
“God-damn, Wayne, I thought you were still in jail, you alimony dodging son-of-bitch.”
“I just got out.”
“Say, who’s your friend, here?” She asked nodding to the young woman standing next to him.
“Well, Alma, I’d like you to meet my credit-card swindling friend, Beverly.”
“I guess you don’t have to worry about her, since you’re up to your eyeballs in debt.”
He laughed, but Beverly didn’t seem so pleased.
“Well, It’s been nice talking to all you folk,” Alma said, “but the president is about to talk and I don’t want to miss it. Word is he going to bash the fake media and go after that corrupt bitch Hillary.” She paused and smiled. “Just saying that makes me feel better already.”