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Opinion: RHETA JOHNSON: "Trump will be the Republican nominee. Sue me."

Fishtrap Hallow, MS

I was making a gingerbread man, a ginger-Trump-man, using candy orange slices for the infamous hair, all the while trying to figure out why a smart friend the night before had said what everyone and his brother keeps declaring with conviction: The Donald is sure to lose steam any day now.

I disagree. Long after my gingerbread man has been eaten or tossed, Donald Trump will be running as fast as he can. Can’t catch me, I’m the nutcase man!

I like to think Trump won’t be president, but what do I know? I remember saying the same thing about the W. But I do believe Trump will be the Republican nominee. Sue me.

At least I’ve put my money where my mouth is — I’d much rather bet on politics than sports — making several friendly wagers with friends who sincerely believe Trump is some kind of comedy warm-up act for the main event waiting in the wings. I don’t see much in the wings.

Let’s just say I shouldn’t have to buy my own adult beverages for the next year and a half if, heaven forbid, I’m right.

Face it. Sane candidates — if there are any — lack sex appeal and name recognition. The nuttier the fruitcake, the more voters eat it up. Besides, if anyone clearly represents the values about half of all Americans have adopted in recent years, it is candidate Trump.

Think about it. He is brash, rich, exclusive, a reality-show star perceived to be telling it like it is — so long as you don’t require the telling of the truth. He also is a womanizing, casino-owning blowhard who is successfully wooing the Religious Right.

In a world where celebrities are celebrities because they are celebrities — or simply notorious — where perception counts more than reality and nobody cares how you got where you are, Donald is the man. He even has the necessary and distracting gimmick that Americans require in everything from their cars to facial cream: He has that wonderful trademark hair. Letterman’s writers got amazing mileage out of Trump’s hair, the hybrid comedic vehicle.

Trump doesn’t share details about building his wall to keep out illegals, or explain why determined terrorists would turn around at the gate after being asked about their religion, or expand on any of his other sweeping promises. He simply asks voters to trust that he’ll do what he says, and that his hair is real.

There is, however, a truth that Trump cannot hide as easily as he does his hairline: Donald Trump is a bully. And political bullies prosper in a world where people feel that the status quo is threatened.

Here’s a rich white man to lead those who are frightened and wandering in the wilderness of things they do not understand, things that tilt the reliable if unsatisfactory world off its axis: a black president, health care for the hoi polloi, tolerance for religions not their own.

Not only will Trump build a physical fence, he’ll support the mental barrier in the minds of those who sense they are no longer in charge. He’ll take the lunch money from the have-nots, and do it with swagger.

I see all of the above as a nomination-winning package if ever there was one. It’s Republican Trump in 2016, because that’s the way the cookie crumbles.

Rheta Grimsley Johnson’s most recent book is “Hank Hung the Moon … And Warmed Our Cold, Cold Hearts.” Comments are welcomed at rhetagrimsley@aol.com.


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