Car Salesman In Chief

 In Philip Bump's column about Trump's rally in the Bronx, there was this nugget:

The rally had the familiar microeconomies that accompany Trump as he campaigns. There were merchants outside selling hats (a visor with fake orange “Trump hair,” for example) and T-shirts. (“I WAS THERE!” one popular shirt read. “BRONX NEW YORK / TRUMP.”) A number of people had placards showing Trump’s mug shot photo from his arrest in Georgia, but those were being given out by the campaign. There was also a surfeit of members of the pro-Trump media universe that has been fostered by the overlap of his popularity and the advent of cheap tools for streaming content.

Some of America’s more famous hustlers also showed up. Former New York congressman George Santos was there, as was Billy McFarland of Fyre Festival infamy. As rapper Sheff G made his way through security, fans called out to him from the line of people waiting to get in. He would later join Trump onstage, each of them dealing with the criminal justice system in New York City. This was the first Trump rally I’ve attended where the smell of marijuana was pervasive, though it was not the first park in the city where I’ve experienced that.

There are many things that surprise me about Trumpistan. Sure, the casual cruelty is its defining characteristic along with its dedication to destroying "norms" in all their variety.

However, Trump is a car salesman. A used car salesman. A used car salesman before there were lemon laws. The people around him are used car salesmen from before there were lemon laws. They are con artists and hustlers and you can't trust them any further than you can throw them.

Naturally, this is caused millions of Americans to adhere to him like a messiah. 

There are plenty of us who are aghast at how many of our countrymen love the cruel fascist. I'm one of them. But I'm also befuddled why people would be so eager to line up for a conman.