Some were fearful of terror and others were terrified by change. Some fell behind and others fell prey to the idea of false equivalency, the rock or the hard place, and chose neither.
And yes, there were some truly hateful people in the mix. And some less so. All claiming to want change, though most wanted anything but.
What most shocked was this: In the end, the crass behaviour, crude language and cruel dismissals, the scams and the sleights of hand, the fables and fake news and outright lies—none of it mattered to them. Nothing proved as appealing to a gullible public as the titillating prospect of getting to ride on the bus with the big boys, listening to them denigrate the women they’d soon own and the men they’d soon defeat. Or the heady experience of gaining brief admission to the gold-plated mansions and exclusive country clubs, the closed locker rooms and cigar-stained back rooms where the power players and their enablers held court. To get a peek behind the curtain where the money men made their deals, even for a second, was to believe that with a little bit of luck and a lot of hard work, anyone could get back to an imagined past where they and their kind mattered. Where they were free.
Even better, they could get to a previously unimagined future where they could say whatever, live however, be whoever.
They could even be THAT GUY.