There's probably five different paragraphs I wanted to quote on this one. I'll leave them for you to discover. To me, this is the essay Hunter S. Thompson would have written for Rolling Stone if he were sober and covering two campaign rallies in Iowa rather than blitzed out of his mind and covering desert racing in Las Vegas.
Ummmm, like this passage?
Her compassion is admirable, glorious even, but also inaccurate. No one is more emotional than a piece-of-shit white man. They are sentimentality personified. How else can so many be moved to rage over the absence of a Christmas tree on a Starbucks cup?
This article was a pleasure to read. It's also really hard to pretend you're working when you're lauging out loud at your desk.