They tell me I'm weird.

I have several weird friends. Who are devoted to Donald Trump. They voted for him. They adore him. With them, it’s almost a religion. A blind faith. In Trump. They admit. That Trump tells lies. But that doesn’t bother them. The ends justify the means. Better, they argue, to believe what one wants to believe.  And to hell with the facts and the truth. Better to proceed on blind faith. And that’s exactly what it is. Religious fanaticism transformed into political fanaticism. With uncanny fervor. To my weird friends, Trump is equivalent to a walking, talking messiah.  A savior. That includes my own sister. I encourage her and other afflicted to see a psychoanalyst. To get their heads together.  But they think I’m the crazy one. That I need counseling. That I’m the weird one.  --Jim Broede