
The interviewer asked the obvious.
“You got that totally wrong. Hate is… well, I understand Trump. Same thing, isn’t it?” Tuck tucked a digit into the collar of his tight white shirt. Under the kleig lights, he became uncomfortably aware of his conscience. He recovered.
Hate is love. Was it Ayn Rand, one of her essays? A review of some book that Kevin Baby recommended? 1984, that was it.
Whatever. The ratings are waiting. “Now what I really hate, wokeness. Banking libs take their eyes off the ball…”
The interviewer asked the obvious.
“Not libertarians. Those guys are cool.”