The thing you have to understand about Donald Trump, says Claremont Institute chairman Tom Klingenstein, is that “Trump is a manly man,” an exemplar of “traditional manhood.”
Well.
There is, I think, a contrary point of view.
Donald Trump is a whiny Palm Beach pasha whose put-upon servants soothe him by playing showtunes — specifically, the sad songs from Cats — when he’s feeling a little verklempt. He has your Aunt Jeanie’s social-media addiction and wears more makeup than the hog-tied hooker I predict somebody will find in the trunk of Anthony Weiner’s rental car one of these days. His Manhattan apartment is the sort of gilded and frescoed mess that would have made Liberace say, “Tone it down, Nancy.”
Donald Trump isn’t a warrior-prince — he’s a character who got cut from Glee for being too campy.
But I suppose I don’t see this issue precisely the same way they do over at Claremont. When it comes to pegging a man for the virile type, they know whereof they speak.