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It was a few minutes before dusk on a cold, wet, and foggy, November Wednesday. Below me, on Broadway at a Bronx intersection, where cultures cross and beats thrive, bargain-hunters darted in and out of Radio Shack, seeking out the final ‘final discount’ before its demise. The company that survived a Great Depression, two World Wars, and Reaganomics, was no match for Amazon’s limitless pockets and data-driven chokehold on its customers. 

Outside the store, a snarling, disappointed crowd, partially sheltered from the incessant ice rain by a blinking sign protruding over the sidewalk, were window-watching yesterday’s recaps and analysis of James Alexander Hunt’s ‘surprise’ Presidential victory over “Crooked Hillary” Clinton.

The checkerboard of large flat-screen TVs tuned left, right, and center to Fox News, where a beaming Sean Hannity, took credit for the win as he fawned over Hunt’s first Tweet as President-Elect --- a promise that the forgotten men and women of America would never be forgotten again.

88.4% of the ‘forgotten people’ of the Bronx had voted for Crooked Hillary, but neither candidate meant much to me. Hillary, the tone-deaf spouse of a philandering President, acted like a despot, high on drone strikes when she acted as the Secretary of State. Acted like a Play-Doh Democrat on the campaign trail. Now, she acted like we should give a fuck that she’d blown her inheritance.


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