Many years ago, the room I rented was broken into by a short man, or a large boy. There was nothing of mine he wanted, so he took the Baby Belling stove that belonged to the landlord. The landlord told me that of the people in the world there were two essential types. Those with an instinct to believe in the best from others, and those with an instinct to believe the worst. And I guess if that landlord was correct, then those citizens of these here United States with an instinct to believe in the best of others will be more likely to vote for the current president, and those citizens with an instinct to believe in the worst of others will be more likely to vote for the fellow whose eyes seem never to have smiled.
Landlords, however, traditionally have a particular view of us people. Their living is earned by the gap between what they can give and what they can take. Which means the more they can take and the less they can give, the wealthier they can become. But "landlord' is such hallowed word for a cowled creature at prey upon the poor widow, her orphans and kitten. You can see him in the smart car, collecting his rent, then off to his friend the magistrate. They play golf together, sit on the committees and say their prayers. And of course they're right, so much better to find some other words to explain the grand design.