When was the last time we readily believed in the words of a politician? Simple – listening to Barack Obama give a tribute to the sheer brilliance of his wife, Michelle, at his farewell speech. Call it schmaltzy or sentimental, their love, even from this distance, seems real. At work, colleagues huddled around tiny phone screens to watch Obama tell the world that he was proud of his wife and the grace and dignity with which she made the office of first lady her own. We cooed and aahed as though over a baby.
Inauguration day draws ever nearer, and as it does my wish to escape the inevitable intensifies. This feeling is unquestionably about a president who has brazenly lied his way to the top. It is about the unsuitability of a petty man full of bluster and bile accustomed to getting everything he wants because he has always had the means to do so. But the injustice of it feels more naked and insulting, as in exchange for Trump we lose the Obamas – all of them: plural not singular.
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