I was halfway through my Monday commute - 125 miles - way out in the country on the rez filling the car up. Inside the station were a bunch of wall TVs that are usually set to sports with his ugly phiz on them instead, and a little crowd starting to form: a couple of hunters in camo, several truck drivers, a farmer. By the time I got out of the rest room they were yelling curses at the TV at the top of their lungs. “Must have been a heck of a speech,” I sez to myself. Now I know.
You gotta love North Idaho.