The Daily Beast

The ‘Fuck Your Feelings’ Crowd Wants a Pity Party for Trump

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Like most Americans, I’ve looked on in horror as the COVID explosion in the White House and Trump campaign staff expands, and the national reality TV show has transformed into “Walter Reed Follies.” I’m waiting for the grisly stats to show just how much his maskless rallies will amplify the spread of a disease we never fully got under control.

But let’s be honest; like me, the first question most observers have asked after learning that Donald Trump had been diagnosed with COVID was, “What took so long?”

I don’t mean that flippantly or casually. For months, the president, his entourage, and his campaign staffers—to say nothing of those attending his rallies and fundraising events—have been largely maskless. Social distancing was more in the breach than the observation. Both Trump’s RNC nomination speech on the South Lawn of the White House and the coronation ceremony for Amy Coney Barrett looked like any pre-COVID D.C. gathering: chummy, close, and collegial, full of handshakes and hugs. His behavior made his eventual infection with COVID a matter of time. His devil’s luck ran out last week.

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