It’s not that Page is stupid in the same way many Trump voters are mulishly immune to processing empirical facts in the world around them, it’s that Page’s odd affect and thinking reflects something profoundly off kilter about him in the same way Trump’s entire persona consists of bluster, magical thinking, and wilful self-deception.
The delta between Trump’s imagination of himself and the brand image that he desperately wants to sell is always wide; he’s the “billionaire” lout playing the Manhattan sophisticate who gorges on fast food. He’s a man with a lemur wig and a five-pound bolus of chin-wattle who think’s he’s irresistible to women. He’s the serially bankrupt master of the Art of the Deal. The TV talk show character who snuck into the Oval Office on a tide of Russian influence and now thinks he won on the merits.
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