I cruised into the little town of Clifden at a stout 125 kilometers per hour on a narrow two-lane road just as Storm Bram was ravaging Ireland’s Atlantic coast. On the radio, “Hells Bells” by AC/DC sounded my arrival.

I had just passed through the town of Oughterard, where I saw my first signs of Donald Trump fandom since leaving the States. At a junk and rug dealer shop, the proprietor hung “Trump 2024” banners outside, along with other assorted odds and ends for sale.

“He’s a crazy twit,” a hotel manager said of the Trump fan when I mentioned it to him. The “i” in twit was pronounced as an “a.” What he had to say about Trump was worse. “Face it. He’s a destroyer.”

In Ireland, as well as in the rest of Europe, the president is viewed “like a bearded lady in a circus sideshow” I was tol

See Full Page