



On Tuesday night the sitting president says a word about his supporters, and by Wednesday afternoon the word is a costume. He lands in Wisconsin, walks past the plane to a white refuse truck waiting on the apron, climbs into the cab in a high-visibility orange vest and takes questions through the open window. That night he tells the country that they call you garbage and he calls you the heart and soul of America. The same morning he is already posting that Pennsylvania is cheating and that law enforcement must act now — the insurance policy is being written while he is still winning. Monday is the last day of the last campaign of his life: four states, five stages, and a voice that is nearly gone by the time he reaches Grand Rapids after one in the morning. Then the talking stops and the counting starts.
Readers' Corner
Letters from the readership on Week 490. Pick a pen name — no account needed.
Opening the mailbag…