I have never experienced the kind of primal revulsion that I’ve experienced when seeing those disgusting, vile, pop-up trump merchandise tents that show up periodically in gas station parking lots in Clermont County, where I live. It’s never been more difficult to resist the urge to pull my car over and yell at, punch, or spit on these gross, smirking swine, selling swag for their fascistic clown overlord. It makes me angry on a level I can’t find words for. Maybe it’s because these smirking assholes are the marks in Trump’s long presidential con, and they seem to absolutely revel in their own complete debasement. Maybe it’s because they set up their shops so close to my own house. I don’t know.