[Ed. – Project much, David? Seriously, I find Brooks’s odd rant here to be completely “unrelatable,” as he might say. I’ve never thought I might particularly like Trump in person, but he does come across to me as human and personable, in a way quite a few politicians don’t — namely, Hillary and Obama. Or big-name entrepreneurs, for that matter. I figure you’d want to set yourself a rule of remaining at least 100 feet from Mark Cuban at all times. Just one example. What Brooks evokes here doesn’t resonate with me at all. It seems out of left field.]
Politics is an effort to make human connection, but Trump seems incapable of that. He is essentially adviser-less, friendless. His campaign team is made up of cold mercenaries at best and Roger Ailes at worst. His party treats him as a stench it can’t yet remove.
He was a germophobe through most of his life and cut off contact with others, and now I just picture him alone in the middle of the night, tweeting out hatred.
Trump breaks his own world record for being appalling on a weekly basis, but as the campaign sinks to new low after new low, I find myself experiencing feelings of deep sadness and pity.
Imagine if you had to go through a single day without sharing kind little moments with strangers and friends.
Imagine if you had to endure a single week in a hate-filled world, crowded with enemies of your own making, the object of disgust and derision.
You would be a twisted, tortured shrivel, too, and maybe you’d lash out and try to take cruel revenge on the universe. For Trump this is his whole life.