He was the slime that oiled the old, deserted machinery of American politics, and got it running.

He was the Halloween face that never came off, and it was thrilling to behold.

He was bald America's hairpiece.

He wasn't Hillary Clinton, and that counted for a lot.


He was sorry for what he said, but no one had more respect for women.

He was post-media, the first President voted in by people who didn't read the news.

He was always clean, although his nose sniffed like a crack ho.

He wasn't into Madonna or Bon Jovi or Beyonce or any of those phonies. He was the celebrity without celebrity friends, unless you count Scott Baio and you really can't.

He was funnier than satire.

He was on good terms with Rudy Giuliani, Vladimir Putin, and Julian Assange, proving he could get on with anyone insane.

He wasn't about to pay his damn tax bill.

He was the conversation I had with British writer Andrew O'Hagan back in March, when he said, "What we're witnessing is a supernatural communal turn towards something deeply sinister. He summons everything that's worst about the American character and sells it back to them as virtue ... They could really go for this guy. He appeals directly to something vengeful and self-loathing in the American character.

"They look at that guy and see a reflection of something very essential to themselves. That is a frightening energy. And it could get out of control. It already is out of control."

He was out of control.

He was with the generals.

He wasn't the same old.

He was the heir to Nixon.

He was the cure for Obama.

He was often on Fox.

He wasn't Bill Clinton, and that counted for a lot.

He was on the ground in Ohio.

He was outside of Washington.

He was American Sniper, and his aim was true.