“Let’s Break Some F*cking Windows!”
Updated: Sep 5, 2022
As a child and throughout my teenage years I was stupid. I didn’t feel stupid, but an unending stream of reminders overwhelmed such feelings. Time and again, I was told, “You’re dumber than whale shit at the bottom of the ocean.” Over the course of many years, I came to embrace the role in which I was cast.
At 20 years old, I moved away and returned to college after a first year flunk out. Living on my own in the no-nonsense city of Lowell, I squeaked by on $240 a week. I was poor. Often, my roommates and I went without. Sometimes we went without heat, sometimes electricity, sometimes food. I had hope, though; hope for a better tomorrow. Throughout my twenties, I fought the good fight. Eventually I washed away the brand of stupidity and broke the chains of financial duress. I got lucky.
Now, decades later, I do not worry about the capacity (or lack thereof) of my brain. I do not worry about paying bills. I do, however, recall cold mornings without heat. I recall the pangs of hunger. And after all these years, I recall what it feels like to be called stupid.
This morning, I sip freshly ground coffee, recalling the invisible scar of the stupid brand. Over the course of 15+ years of childhood, Mom, Dad, neighborhood parents, teachers, coaches, and counselors – the lords and elite of my youth – cast me and my future aside with a shrug and a label.
“Glenn? Oh yeah, he’s stupid. And watch out, that boy’s trouble.”
This morning my phone vibrates, interrupting a daydream. I answer a text and make arraignments for a walk with a friend this afternoon. Before returning the phone to its hiding place, I scroll through Facebook. The online community greets me with a rich serving of anti-GOP opinions and sharp-tongued comments directed toward Trump supporters. I recognize many of the labels; ignorant, stupid, losers. I hear their echoes.
Though such labels are no longer directed toward me, memories linger. The scar stings.
Some time ago, I stood as a proud Republican. Nowadays, my vote finds a home elsewhere.
Nowadays, I straddle the worlds of the nicely branded Elite college-educated Democrats and the Republican-leaning trade-focused non-Elite. I relate to those on each side of the political divide. Intellectually, I lean toward the Grey Poupon set of the Elite. Emotionally, I find succor in the ranks of my Republican friends. And as I continue to cross our country’s political bridge, I am reminded how the skills and educational levels of the Democrat-aligned Elite and the GOP-aligned non-Elite differ. Neither better or worse; simply different. Third party data confirms the relationship, particularly among whites, between party affiliation and educational pursuit.
On one side of the bridge, I hold dear the friends amassed during the three most recent decades; nearly all these friends breathtakingly successful, highly educated, and, frankly, deserving of the label Elite. On the Republican-leaning side of the divide, scores of my dearest and longest lasting friendships bloom from the ranks of the trade-focused 64% of Americans without a college degree.
During discussions with members of the so-called non-Elite, one finds responses to be nuanced, infused with passion, and based on real world issues. Drawing from these conversations, and as suggested by third party surveys, one finds GOP voters do not cast Trump ballets because they are “racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, Islamophobic.” They cast GOP ballots in search of change, because – no matter how hard they try – the playing field just doesn’t seem level to those not invited to sit at the table of the Elite. In a tip of the hat to common ground, the desire for change among Trump voters is similar to the desires of first term Obama voters. They all sought change.
Trump gives voice to those alienated and frustrated and exhausted by nearly two decades of non-Elite economic stagnation. Trump represents a break from the current system; a system perceived as rigged by many of his supporters.
The Republicans with whom I speak are not stupid.
It’s an anger I recognize.
I recognize this anger as it permeates the memories of my own childhood and young adult years. Memories spanning grade school and high school…
Frenzied with the goal of watching Kimba the White Lion at lunch time, I shove past fifth grade classmates and run from Byrd School to our little suburban home. The morning school session lets out at 11:30AM, the moment Kimba starts. Of course, there are always commercials at the start of the show so I don’t miss much. Sometimes I see the whole first scene featuring Kimba’s run through the forest toward the day’s adventure. Cutting through yards and crashing over low slung hedges, I leap like Kimba for a quarter mile toward home. Breathless, I bolt across the green grass of our backyard and clomp up porch steps.
Swinging open the back door, I take two steps before skidding to a halt. The kitchen seethes with a palpable anger. Hands on hips, Mom glares from the center of the room.
She stomps her foot. All around, glassware rattles.
“Are you stupid?”
“What? No! Mom, Kimba’s on and I …”
Crack! Upside the head.
Tiny white stars dance about the room as I fall against the Formica countertop.
Like Muhammad Ali stalking my hero, Smok’n Joe Frazier, Mom inches forward, “I just got off the phone with Principal Peters! She said you started a fight with Paulie? And that you shoved dirt in his month! In his MOUTH!”
Mom grabs a handful of my hair, “Do you know how embarrassed I am right now? And how embarrassed your father will be when he hears about this? Do you?”
I pull away screaming, “It wasn’t my fault!”
Mom cocks her arm, ready for another strike. From two feet away she wails, “Paulie’s one of the nicest boys in the neighborhood! How could you do that to him? How?”
I weigh options. Turning and bolting out the door means no Kimba. Apologizing means admitting I was wrong (when I wasn’t!) and getting punished with no TV and no Kimba, and finally there’s the long shot of explaining what happened. Explaining sometimes gives Mom time to cool down and sometimes she seems to understand what I’m saying. Sometimes though, she just doesn’t listen.
Mom’s partly right about Paulie. He acts nice when parents and teachers are around and he’s really, really, smart, but he’s also got a mean streak. He likes to walk up behind the littler kids and kick their legs out from under them. The little ones though aren’t used to being knocked to the ground so they always cry like babies. Paulie thinks it’s funny. Plus – and worst of all – Paulie loves to remind me that I got left back in first grade and that I go to a tutor after school for reading. “…Hey Morgan, you’re so stupid, you got left behind! And you can’t even read…”
Again, Mom stomps her foot. “Well? Answer me! How could you do that to Paulie?”
My heart races. My head throbs. I wanna scream and run outside but I really want to watch Kimba. I go with the long shot and begin to explain, “Mom, listen. Paulie deserved it. And besides, he started it by calling me…”
Crack! Upside the head.
“Do you want more of that?”
Staggered, I shake my head no.
“Then sit at the table and eat your fried bologna. They’ll be no TV for you today.”
“But MOM!!! He said I was stupid! And… I’m smart! I am! I’m good at math. Right?”
“Quiet! When your father gets home tonight, we’ll see how smart you are.”
“Mom! I’m not stupid!”
Refusing to eat, I stew.
Pacing the kitchen, Mom slips behind me.
Crack! Upside the head.
I sit in silence as Kimba runs through the forest without me.
Needless to say, upon my return to school that afternoon, Paulie is smashed in the face.
Standing over the fallen boy, I scream, “I’m not stupid!”
Heck, if I’m gonna get the belt, I might as well drag Paulie down with me.
Over the years, similar incidents come and go.
Throughout childhood, the label of stupidity sticks.
From my first grade failure to a well-deserved freshman year flunk out at the University of Lowell, life’s leaders and those wielding power over my future remind me of the clinging shadow of stupidity.
Through grade school, junior high, and high school I am grouped with the other left-behinds. And as elite students win spelling bees, gather academic blue ribbons and scoop up scholarships, I seethe and agitate among my peers, keen to challenge a world in which I am branded as dumb.
I mean, I don’t feel dumb.
Eventually, I tire of the fight. “Fuck it.”
Labeled a loser for a dozen years, I come to embrace the role in which I am cast. I misbehave and disrupt in school; fighting, burning, and then drinking and drugging my way from grade school through high school.
In high school, I am reminded on a daily basis by all but two teachers (a wonderful art teacher, Mr. M., and a larger than life earth science teacher, Mr. B.) of my station in life.
In high school hallways, the smart kids do the smart thing; they keep a distance from me and my friends.
Following a bust for partying in the boys’ room, I recall pleading with my high school guidance counselor to avoid having to repeat senior year.
“Please, Mr. Brown, whatever you do, just don’t suspend me. I can’t get suspended; I already have too many absences so that’ll make me fail! And I don’t wanna be left back!”
Tossing a manila folder across his grey desk, Mr. Brown leans back in his chair. He shakes his head, as if in pity, “Ya know Morgan, we were just talking about you and your misfit friends in the teachers’ lounge this morning. Not one of us ever wants to teach you or those hooligans again. Not one of us. And believe me, so long as you and those other idiots – Marcus and Nico – show up to class, don’t get arrested, and don’t kill someone, we’ll pass you. Just to get you outa here.”
Staring across the desk, I don’t know whether to be mad or happy.
He’s such an asshole.
I wonder if he knows it was me who spray painted his cobblestone driveway last week.
My provider of guidance, my counselor, my educational Sherpa, leans forward to share final words of wisdom, “Let me be crystal clear, Morgan. You and your friends are animals. Plain and simple. And frankly, you’re dangerous; to yourself, to the school and, (with a sweep of his hand), to society. You’re a loser. A stupid nobody. So yeah, we’ll pass you. We’ll pass you on to someone else. Now, get the hell outa my office.”
I hiss across the divide, “I’m not stupid.”
Now the fuse is lit…
That evening, Marcus and I find solace deep in the Boulevard woods, a cop-free zone bordering the train tracks. Songs of the Who blare from a boom box perched atop a tree stump. “No one knows what it's like to be the bad man. To be the sad man…”
As Behind Blue Eyes washes over us, I share the news with Marcus, “Fucking Brown said I’m not gett’n suspended for twist’n up in school and that they’ll pass both of us if we don’t fuck up too badly.”
Marcus draws from his Marlboro as I continue, “Fucking Brown said all the teachers think we’re losers and they just wanna get rid of us. He called me stupid. I hate that fuck’n guy.”
Around us, darkness blooms.
I chug my sixth Miller Highlife and smash the bottle against a tree.
Marcus nods, “Nice one.” He downs the last of his six pack and shatters the empty against a nearby boulder. For a moment the world sparkles in a mist of foam and broken glass. We smoke a bone; two left-behinds swaying in time to the song’s plea, “…And if I shiver, please give me a blanket. Keep me warm, let me wear your coat.”
A crisp evening breeze kicks up fallen leaves. I shiver.
Marcus cocks his chin, “Let’s go break some fucking windows. Shit, let’s head ‘cross town and break some of Brown’s windows. That asshole said we’re losers. And every time he sees me in the hallway he says the same thing – ‘hey boy, you stupid?’ I hate that douche bag.” Marcus kicks at swirling leaves, “So, whatda we gonna do about it?”
With exaggerated care I stretch my throwing arm.
“Let’s break some fucking windows!”
In less than an hour, the three largest windows spanning the side of Mr. Brown’s garage are broken. The sound of breaking glass is music to our ears.
In response to the same sound, Mr. Brown rushes out the front door and onto his lawn.
Hidden behind a Camaro parked a few houses away, Marcus and I watch as Brown inspects the damage to his garage. With clenched fists, he rushes to the end of his cobblestone driveway, recently power washed to remove the giant red words, dirty rear end spray painted with great care last week. Brown’s chest heaves as he scans the street. And finding the street deserted, he screams, “I know who you are and I’m call’n the cops right now, you goddamn losers!”
Turning and marching toward the house, Brown yells over his shoulder, “Oh, and have fun being failures for the rest of your lives, you stupid little shits!”
From behind the car I crane my neck and howl into the night.
“I’m not stupid!”
I did not light the fuse.
I am the explosive.
Today – years after breaking Mr. Brown’s windows and spray painting his driveway (sorry, Mr. Brown) – the stupid label represents a challenge conquered. Today, I am welcome at the table of the Elites.
And, man, it is one heck of a beautiful table.
Yet, I hesitate.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. In addition to being kind, the Elites are smart and they smell nice and without need to worry about the rent or utilities or food as I did as a young adult, they care about important things like global warming, human rights, and free speech, and democracy. And gosh, are they good looking. They are so frigg’n good looking!
I join the Elites in song and celebration, for they are my dear friends.
Yet, from deep within, I hear the song of those labeled as left behind. For theirs is the song of my formative years; a song sang from the heart.
I join in this song because I know what it’s like to be the bad man.
To be thought of as stupid.
To be thought of as deplorable.
Today, when I hear such labels – even when not directed at me – they sting.
Though I don’t need science to tell me such words hurt, the science indicates they do.
Consider an experiment in which a group of children were each given a problem to solve. Upon conclusion of their respective efforts, each child was critiqued in a variety of controlled manners. The experimenters found the children receiving personalized criticism along the lines of “I’m disappointed in you” felt worse about themselves. And when those children labeled a disappointment were asked to tackle a follow-up problem, they were more likely to give up. Labels impact how you feel about yourself and how you behave.
Heck, if the authors had opted to ask me about the impact of such critiques, we might have saved some tears among those kids in their experiment!
There are many studies showing young teens subjected to “harsh verbal discipline” or name calling are more likely to exhibit depressive symptoms than those not disciplined in such a way. Studies show the teens trashed verbally were also more likely to misbehave at school, lie to parents, steal, or engage in fighting.
Of course not. I doubt Paulie or Mr. Brown would be surprised either.
Today, as I scroll past or delete sharp-tongued social media posts guessing at the intellectual capacity of my GOP friends, I wonder if the personalized critiques and criticism expressed toward my Republican-leaning friends is as hurtful to them as the stinging critiques were to the childhood version of me.
For, does a Trump voter not “…eat the same food, get hurt with the same weapons, get sick with the same diseases, get healed by the same medicine, and warm up in summer and cool off in winter just like a …” Democrat?
As I scroll through social media, I hear an echo from years ago...
“I’m not stupid!”
How can it not hurt when… ?
you’re dismissed as a resident of “flyover country” and ignored by East and West coast Elites as they jet across the country to decide the jobs, the taxes, the incomes, and the healthcare options of the “people we fly over.”
How can it not hurt when…
one hears the senator and presidential candidate (and much admired) Barack Obama summarize his thinking regarding those we fly over, “They get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren't like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations.”
And lest I be accused of cherry picking Democratic examples, how can it not hurt when…
one hears the candidate for whom I voted and admire, Mitt Romney, state, "… my job is not to worry about those people, I'll never convince them they should take personal responsibility and care for their lives…"
And, of course, how can it not hurt when…
one hears Hillary Clinton suggest to a room full of campaign contributors that those voting for Trump were nothing but a “basket of deplorables", each of them "racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, Islamophobic."
Can it be true? Are all of the 62 to 70+ million (depending on the election year) voting for Trump to be tucked in a basket of deplorables? Are they all racist and stupid?
These are our fellow citizens, our neighbors and, maybe if we skip the labels, our friends.
Each one worthy of disagreement.
Each one worthy of meaningful debate and the respect of dialogue.
And if we don’t step back from the sharp words dividing us, how might a member of the Democrat Elite respond when a Republican asks…
“If you prick us with a pin, don’t we bleed? If you tickle us, don’t we laugh? If you poison us, don’t we die? And if you treat us badly, won’t we try to get revenge?”
Now, in response to such a question, we might be tempted to roll our eyes.
Perhaps these trade-focused non-college educated Republicans are overly sensitive to labels. Sticks and stones may break my bones, right?
Or, maybe the men and women voting for Trump have simply bought into the GOP’s well-orchestrated and finely-focused messaging efforts?
In the words of an architect of Trump’s 2016 victory, the GOP’s campaign efforts seek to paint Americans as “victims” by sharing an anti-Elite, “…anti-science …anti-expert, (and) anti-truth…” message.
Maybe they’re simply suckers for good marketing? Have Trump voters simply embracing the label of victim branded across their foreheads?
Or is there more to this than name-calling by the Dems and successful GOP messaging? (hey, Dems, in terms of branding, you barely play varsity ball while the GOP consistently performs at a pro level.)
In addition to being wounded with words and stuck with labels, what has pricked our non-Elite GOP-leaning fellow citizens? What has caused them to agitate so powerfully for change?
Again, I hear an echo.
This one louder and more painful.
Crack! Upside the head.
Consider the plight of those opting for pursuit of a trade over a four year college degree.
Were they not pricked?
Were they not cracked upside the head?
Based on the facts, the answer is yes. Let’s review a handful of facts, shall we?
From 2000 to 2018, manufacturing employment in America fell by over 28%; a loss totaling nearly 5 million jobs. Did you opt for a skill rather than college? If so…
Crack! Upside the head.
In turn, this loss of manufacturing jobs is partner with a larger reduction of overall union membership and protection. In 1978, union membership included 26% of American workers. In 2017 the percent of American workers in unions stood at 10.7%. Did you opt for a union trade rather than college? If so…
Crack! Upside the head.
And who bore the brunt of the financial crisis of 2007 and 2008? When elite financial masters of the universe shit the bed with the subprime crisis, was it not the middle class and flyovers suffering? On average, each American household lost over $5,800 in income due to diminished economic growth resulting from the crisis and the projected growth of 5 million additional American jobs evaporated as a result of the crisis. And if that were not enough, 13 million Americans lost their homes in the crisis.
Among me and my Elite friends, no homes were lost; vacation or otherwise! We rode the recovering stock market. Same thing with you and your friends? If not …
Crack! Upside the head.
While millions lost income, jobs, and homes due to the financial crisis, in blue skies above, the Elite flew from coast to coast largely untroubled as less than 40 bankers went to prison. Sound like a level playing field to you? If not…
Crack! Upside the head.
Then, after the dust settled and lost wages and jobs and homes were tallied, Americans were asked to embrace the big platform gig economy. Lost your manufacturing job? And your union pension? No problem! There are plenty of part time gigs. Sorry, no healthcare, though. From the final acts of the financial crisis in 2010 or so to 2018, over 55 million workers began earning their keep via “gig economy job.” As Forbes magazine notes, that’s 36% of all U.S. workers. Are you or is someone you know gigging due to lacking full time jobs? If so…
Crack! Upside the head.
Ask a musician, painter, or driver. Sure, you get freedom with gigs but you also get uncertainty. And when uncertainty crashes the party, insecurity is never far behind. Edelman’s Trust survey makes the scope of insecurity among American workers clear. Today, 83% of American workers are fearful of losing their job and 58% are worried they are not properly trained for future work. Feeling less than secure? If so…
Crack! Upside the head?
You don’t have to read the Merchant of Venice to understand the answer to “… if you treat us badly, won’t we try to get revenge?”
Recalling how I felt as I staggered against the countertop in Mom’s kitchen or when our heat was shut off in Lowell, I’m guess’n one might not feel so good, let alone have the energy for revenge.
And that’s what’s happening. Millions of Americans don’t feel so good anymore.
Witness the shift over time. Since the 1950s, an annual survey has asked Americans if American culture and our way of life is better or worse. In a most recent survey, 50% say things are better and 47% say things are worse.
Well heck, at first blush, that seems like glass half-full or glass half-empty stuff, right?
Not so fast.
Let’s dig deeper. Who are those 47% who feel things are worse?
The answer, it seems, depends on race and education. Focusing on the largest demographic sector, we find 58% of college-educated whites feel America has gotten better since the 1950s while 57% of non-college-educated whites say things are worse. Let's remember, back in the 50s to 70s, trades were valued. Unions bloomed. The ranks of manufacturing workers swelled with numbers and pride. For the men and women opting for a trade over a college degree, America was looking pretty great back then.
Today, if you’re among the 57% of non-college-educated whites feeling America is no longer such a great place, might “Make America Great Again” hit a nerve? Recalling millions of manufacturing jobs, powerful unions and pensions, I’m thinking it might sound damn good.
Now, perhaps it’s tempting to blame Trump for all this, but that’s too easy. Such long term shifts run deeper than one man’s crater.
Long before Trump ran for President, non-college-educated whites began to shift toward the Republican party. Consider this; In 1999, 51% of college educated whites preferred the GOP while 42% of this group preferred the Democratic party.” 20 years ago, the Democrats were the party of non-college non-Elites.
A year before Trump’s 2015 declaration of presidential candidacy, 54% of whites without a college degree were leaning Republican. In contrast, 34% of whites without a college degree leaned Democrat. All this, before Trump.
When considering the roots of such a shift, I am mindful of the warning trumpeted by Ronald Reagan, the man for whom I twice voted, during his 1981 inaugural address. We must not allow “government by an elite group (to) ride on our back.”
Now the fuse is lit.
This fuse has been burning for over 40 years. Today, after four decades of GOP messaging and marketing focused on a rigged system run by Elites as the cause of America’s woes, is it a surprise when surveys declare 45% of non-college-educated whites feel the system is rigged against them, while in contrast, just 29% of college-educated whites feel this way?
Today, trust in government is a casualty of years of name calling, economic stagnation, and GOP anti-elite rigged system messaging.
This lack of trust is breathtaking.
The level of trust in government among voters identifying as Republicans dropped from 50% during Bush II to below 10% during the Obama administration. For contrast, the plunge differs from the modest drop from about 40% to 32% by voters identifying as Democrats during the same stretch of time.
For perspective, during the Johnson administration, over 60% of Republicans and north of 70% of Democrats trusted the government.
It’s amazing what years of labeling and smacks upside the head will do to a country, let alone a little kid.
With trust trampled, is it any wonder today’s call to arms over the science of medicine, the benefit of masks, and rigged elections rings true among so many?
After years of being cracked upside the head and being labeled as deplorable, racist, sexist and after decades of economic attrition is it a wonder Trump’s sharpened message squarely hits it mark?
After winning the Nevada GOP caucus early in his first candidacy, Trump declared, "I love the poorly educated!"
Is it any wonder so many cheered?
As Matt Hildreth of Rural Organizing notes, “Trump was the middle finger to the establishment.” In fact, Trump’s most effective messages target a system branded as rigged. Trump’s successful messages are anti-corruption messages.
This year, 73 million Americans voted for Trump. He reflects a mood forged from decades of economic struggles and years of labeling. He rails at a system viewed as rigged. He gives voice to those yearning for the ability to practice a trade and, in turn, earn a wage allowing them to do more than survive. He trumpets the voice of those labeled as flyovers.
Can it be true? Are over 73 million people stupid? Are they all deplorable?
Of course not.
At what point does the labeling cease?
At what point does acknowledgement of the challenge facing so many neighbors begin?
At what point does dialogue begin?
Do you wonder why over 73 million fellow citizens voted for Trump?
I am reminded why when my invisible scars sting.
Look to the distribution of wealth, to the distribution of unemployment, to the level of trust and confidence in our government. Look to your neighbor. And listen.
What do you hear?
I hear an echo…
“I’m not stupid.”
Crack! Upside the head.
Today, I am reminded of the question posed by Marcus all those years ago. Today, the question is relevant to all of us.
“So, whatda we gonna do about it?”
We better work together to fix this now or the response will not be pleasant. It is a response we must avoid.
From the past, another echo looms, this one much louder…
“Let’s break some fucking windows!”
Image credit: Wikipedia, Kimba the White Lion  Non-Whites Had Affinity for GOP Before Trump, by Jeffrey Jones, Gallup, 4/12/2019  For convenience’s sake and to align with much of the current political literature, I will apply the term “Elite” as a calling card for college-educated Democrats, primarily white and living along the coasts.  In Changing U.S. Electorate, Race and Education Remain Stark Dividing Lines, Pew Research Center, 6/2/2020  U.S. Census Bureau Releases New Educational Attainment Data, U.S. Census, 3/30/2020  “A Fatal failing of Establishment Elites” by Pat Buchanan, 6/1/2020, The Advertiser-Tribute  Washington Post, “13 Most Amazing Findings…” by Chris Cillizza, November 11, 2016  “Trends in Income and Wealth Inequality”, Pew Research Center, 1/9/2020  Washington Post, “13 Most Amazing Findings…” by Chris Cillizza, November 11, 2016  “Instruments of Darkness” The FON Mixes, 1991, by Art of Noise (if you are short on time please stop reading this story and listen to the Art of Noise instead as their music is breathtakingly beautiful)  Behind Blue Eyes, The Who, Who’s Next, written by Pete Townshend, 11/6/1971  Behind Blue Eyes, The Who, Who’s Next, written by Pete Townshend, 11/6/1971 Gwen Dewar, “Correcting Behavior”, Parenting Science, (last corrected) April, 2019  Using Harsh Verbal Discipline with Teens Found to Be Harmful”, by Society for Research in Child Development (author uncited), Science Daily, 9/13/2014  Merchant of Venice, William Shakespeare, Act 3, Scene 1, 1599  “After the Election, the Concept of Flyover Country”, by Ben Zimmer, 11/22/2016, Wall Street Journal  “Obama Angers Midwest…” by Ed Pilkington, 4/14/2008. The Guardian  Top 13 Quotes in Mitt Romney Leaked Fundraiser Video, by Amy Bingham, ABC News, 9/18/2012  “A Fatal failing of Establishment Elites” by Pat Buchanan, 6/1/2020, The Advertiser-Tribute  Merchant of Venice, William Shakespeare, Act 3, Scene 1, 1599  “I’ll Never Question 1938 Germany Again: An Ex-Republican Strategist Surveys the Wreckage:, by Joe Hagan, Vanity Fair, 9/10/2020  Edelman, 20 Years of Trust, 2020  “Democrats Paid a Huge Price for Letting Unions Die” by Eric Levitz, New York Magazine, 1/26/2018  Impact of the September 2008 Economic Crisis, Pew Trust, 4/28/2010  Edelman, 20 Years of Trust, 2020  “35 Bankers Were Sent to Prison for Financial Crisis Crimes” by Chris Isidore, CNN Money 4/28/2016  Edelman, 20 Years of Trust, 2020  Edelman, 20 Years of Trust, 2020  Merchant of Venice, William Shakespeare, Act 3, Scene 1, 1599  America is Divided by Education, by Adam Harris, The Atlantic, 11/7/2018  America is Divided by Education, by Adam Harris, The Atlantic, 11/7/2018  Author’s note; I leave the commentary and my opinion regarding the not-so-great lack of civil rights, lack of gay rights, lack of women’s rights for discussion at a later date.  Non-Whites Had Affinity for GOP Before Trump, by Jeffrey Jones, Gallup, 4/12/2019  Non-Whites Had Affinity for GOP Before Trump, by Jeffrey Jones, Gallup, 4/12/2019  “How Did Democrats Become the Party of Elites?”, by Leonard Steinhorn, 7/12/2017, Bill Moyers on Democracy  “Instruments of Darkness” The FON Mixes, 1991, by Art of Noise  ‘I Love the Poorly Educated’: Why White College Graduates Are Deserting Trump, by Lauren Gambino, The Guardian, 10/16/2016  Trust in Trump Come From Lack of Trust in Government, Marc Hetherington, Brookings Institute, 9/16/2015  Trust in Trump Come From Lack of Trust in Government, Marc Hetherington, Brookings Institute, 9/16/2015  Why the ‘Poorly Educated’ Love Donald Trump Back, by Josh Lowe, Newsweek, 11/25/16  Can Joe Biden and the Democrats Win Back Rural Voters in 2020”, by Andy Kroll, Rolling Stone, 11/1/2020  2020 National Popular Vote Tracker, by Wasserman, Andrews, Saenger, Cohen, Flinn, Tatarsky, Cook Political Report