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Being, as I am, on temporary parole from my Present Residence, I have observed with great interest that life in this country seems to orbit around this Great Man called Trump.

It brings to mind someone I knew in my younger days on the banks of the great Mississippi.

Samuel Slippens was his proper name, so folks just naturally slipped into calling him “Slippery Sam.” That was with good reason, for there was never a soul who could sell overshoes to a catish as quickly as Sam. And that bewhiskered catfish would march on down the road proudly waving the overshoes for all to see.

Sam surely had the knack of knowing how to move whomever he found in his path. He learned it selling real estate. Even if you had a perfectly good house and didn’t need another, he would make you want a better one. And he could convince you that a hovel half under water was indeed, that better house.

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After Sam had made a small pile of money by creating needs in customers, and then filling them, he decided to parlay that fame by opening a kind of school, where people would pay him more money to learn his secrets of success. As my contemporary, P.T. Barnum, said, “There’s a sucker born every minute.”

He was a kind of revival preacher for the Get Rich Quick Gospel. Countless sheep looking for their Golden Fleece were fleeced by Sam. They loved him for it.

Then the War came, and Sam seized the chance to cap his career by becoming a political savior. He began to preach that Lincoln and the Republicans had it all wrong, that keeping slavery was the key to prosperity. This was odd, because slavery really wasn’t all that important in our part of Missouri. But he sold a solid minority on the idea, and they set themselves up as a Confederate militia. They were going to Make Missouri Great Again. Sam was their general, even though he had not the faintest idea of strategy or tactics. He surely did love the fine uniform, though.

Most people in town saw through Slippery Sam. When the Blue Coats finally crossed the river, this sensible majority welcomed them and was happy to see the end of slavery. Slippery Sam led his remnant militia out into the depths of the Qanon Swamp, where they vowed to fight on.

They may still be out there. No one with any sense goes there.