I drove over two thousand miles from Michigan to the Pacific in late summer of 2019.
Along the way I saw Trump signs painted on the sides of barns, and busses, even spelled out with petunias on a lawn.
I did see a couple of faded Bernie stickers as we drove along I-80.
Western Iowa rolls into the great interior wasteland of Nebraska and Wyoming. And all throughout the many empty spaces a startling number of derisive anti-Democratic signs, flags, bumper stickers, and billboards are on display. It is a scorn people festoon upon their hats and patriotically themed clothing. I saw it inside nearly every stop along the way.
I remember a brief respite through Utah. Maybe I missed something in the bright wonder of the Great Salt Lake and the nearby splendor. I didn’t see the hate in Utah.
Then I was off the interstate at Winnemucca, I believe. Heading Northwest toward Klamath Falls. We once
went 178 miles between gas stations. Every now and then, scanning toward the horizon, I’d spot a tailor or a few buildings. Even in this pit of nothingness, I still saw a couple of Trump signs off of long empty driveways.
We scoff at all those red people looking pridefully at their distorted meme maps. The maps simply confirm what their eyes and their neighbors tell them.
This distorted view of Democratic support is what powers Donald Trump’s election lies. Everything they see around them becomes a confirmation of their overwhelming political strength.