Meanwhile, the weirdos in the East are dressing up like vaginas, rolling around and pretending to be dead in the streets and tweeting about an anti-Trump coup
“Oh, Trump—I’m still all Trumped up,” Jane, a retired insurance broker, told me, reveling in the memory of that night one recent weekday afternoon over lunch at Logan’s Rib-Eye, a wood-paneled budget steakhouse situated in Terre Haute, a town along the Wabash River at the intersections of U.S. Highways 40 and 41, just off Interstate 70. Terre Haute proudly calls itself the “Crossroads of America,” a title Indiana would later adopt as its state motto. Across the table, her husband Dick, 73, a former air traffic controller, smiled and nodded. Trump, as far as these longtime Republicans were concerned, had already delivered on some of his biggest promises.
More than 600 miles to the east, in New York City and D.C., people’s Twitter feeds were clogging with breathless posts about the nascent administration’s seemingly disastrous first 24 hours: Trump’s false claims about crowd size at the inauguration, his dystopian inaugural address, and his rambling and self-referential address to CIA officers at Langley, to name only a few. Not here. While Sean Spicer was reaming out the press, the Ameses listened to Fox News, and followed their “T” feast with a “T” dessert, sipping tea while noshing on tea cakes, careful to keep the party’s elements on theme. …
It’s a completely different view of Trump’s early performance than you’d get in any coastal city, or even 75 miles away in the urban center of Indianapolis—where thousands of women descended on the statehouse on the same Saturday afternoon when the Ameses were preparing for their “T” party. And it’s an important barometer of whether America is really souring on Trump. If Trump is going to lose momentum, he’s going to have to lose it in places like Vigo first. And as far as Vigo is concerned, Trump is delivering the goods …”