by Andy Nowicki
Unlike most on the Alt-Right, I have mostly been Trump-skeptical in orientation and outlook. I was glad that he won, of course, but that was really just because him winning meant that his opponent, that screechy horrid harpy from Hell, lost. Thus I don't approach this analysis as a sycophant or even a particular admirer of the newly-coronated God Emperor, on whose distinctive orange mop the crown now securely rests.
Still, even I have to admit that the Inauguration speech I just heard was quite an extraordinary one. A brazen, brass-balled, taboo-shattering peroration indeed. Though brief, it packed a mighty punch. Though not exactly eloquent (has the Donald ever been so, even with a prepared script?), it nevertheless retained a brusquely bracing brio. It danced to the rhetorical edge, and then thrillingly leaped over the edge, of what polite people (much less newly-inaugurated presidents!) are supposed to be allowed to say in our benighted age which so arrogantly presumes its own righteousness.