Donald the Dread in Miami

My Cuban brethren haven’t recovered from the collapse of the campaign of Marco Rubio, the plankton with a hairpiece who ran for president last spring and faces an unexpectedly close reelection to the legislative body he despises. Nevertheless, plenty will vote for the Republican candidate, a boob named Donald J. Trump who will lose even more soundly than Rubio. For fifty-two years Cubans have sat in thousands of back rooms and followed sunburned northerners into Cafe Versailles who insist on sugar-free cafecitos. They have been CIA dupes. They have been burglars. They led mobs for the purpose of disrupting ballot counting. The reward? Suffering in silence as a nominal Republican who wiped his ass with the Cuban embargo speaks to them in English sentences less complex than a cockatoo’s.

Trump paid tribute to Bay of Pigs veterans who had honored him with a historic endorsement.

He listened to the mother of Brothers to the Rescue pilot shot down by the Cuban government over the Florida Straits.

“Very sad story,” Trump told Miriam de la Pena.

And he eagerly repeated criticism of rival Hillary Clinton when longtime Miami Republican donor and activist Remedios Diaz-Oliver declared, “She has never done anything right.”

“It’s just about true,” Trump said. “She’s never done a thing right. Bad judgment.”

Trump’s overtures reflected his broader problem two weeks from Election Day: He has yet to consolidate the conservative vote. The more time he spends trying to do so, the less time he’s got to try to persuade independents and moderates who decide general elections.

Polls show Clinton holding on to a 3-percentage-point lead over Trump in Florida, according to a Real Clear Politics average. Depending on the survey, Cuban Americans have been either split or only narrowly favoring Trump.

I can imagine the disgust, draining like pus, as these accomplished men listened to this charlatan patronize them. In ordinary circumstances I feel no pity for men and woman confronted with the depths of their cynicism, but when these people die with them goes the dream of a Cuba that never existed.

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