If by chance you find yourself visiting an old friend or creaky relative after this long coronavirus interval and innocently spy a copy of Donald Trump’s Our Journey Together (Winning Team Publishing, $74.99, with signed copies priced at $229.99) proudly displayed on their mantle, pause, slowly back out of the room, then make a mad dash for it. Race for the car as if being chased by demon bats.
This isn’t snobbery; it’s self-care: unless you’re one of those enlightened masochists who believes in “dialogue,” you don’t want to be around anybody, not even kinfolk, for whom this lavishly illustrated thunker is a cherished keepsake, a MAGA status symbol, an emblem of pride. The Trump presidency was heinous enough without having it flaunted in your face again, flapping its tail feathers.
