I VOWED that I would never vote for Donald Trump. I have written, at last count, seven columns explaining why he repulses me. That is still true; his being and character necessitate spiritual Dramamine. He is, to put it simply, the human equivalent of mayonnaise, the single most disgusting substance I have encountered in my 54 years on Earth.
And yet, of course, the rest of this column will be devoted to why, barring some deus ex machina named Paul Ryan, I will vote for him in November.
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