On Saturday night I attended a Donald Trump rally in Fairfield, Connecticut.
At a modest, 19-year-old gymnasium at Sacred Heart University, I watched fat droplets of sweat build at the ends of a nearby mullet, fall to the floor, and build again. I despaired at the rivulets coursing down my own shins, and at the elderly man who I watched produce a large glass cloth to scrape his wet face with.
The National Weather Service...
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