Same thing with this fool; in fact, Kraig Moss might be an even less sympathetic character than Helen Beristain. This guy is just too much. I don't want to minimize the tragedy of him losing his 24-year-old son to a heroin overdose, it's too awful to fathom. But Moss attended 45 rallies, heard all the lies, the chants, the nasty hateful rhetoric from the cheeto and the mob alike. He was down with Locking Her Up and Building The Wall. But now he finds himself betrayed on the issue that he cares about, and the whole deal is off.
We're all tired of these "what are they thinking" stories; this is just a different flavor, a close cousin to those tedious ass-spelunking expeditions the scriveners take out to Real 'murka to get the pulse o' the people. I have a feeling we're going to be seeing more of this particular flavor of buyers' remorse, of Leopards Eating People's Faces Party voters shocked and dismayed that their face is getting eaten by leopards.
(Which is unfair to leopards, who are as majestic and noble creatures as you are likely to find. Hyenas are a much more appropriate comparison to the "movement" Clownstick and his cult followers represent. Or dung beetles, if dung beetles could attack people.)
These stories are meant to elicit a reaction of either contempt or pity, but it's hard to feel either of those things for either of those people. Mostly it's difficult to know what the fuck to make of them.
Helen Beristain is an immigrant herself, married an illegal immigrant who had already been popped once. She understood the stakes, and yet she chose to cast her lot with the reality teevee clown known primarily for colorful, self-serving lies, dismal treatment of women, ripping off contractors and shareholders, and being cut off from borrowing from any of the commercial banks in New York, despite having his own skyscraper literally on the same street as some of them. Her dopey, mewling nonsense shows that she still hasn't learned anything from this.
Kraig Moss is a different breed of rube -- he quit his business, stopped paying his mortgage, gutted the interior of his house, and followed the Chump Train around the country with his stupid songs, like a dipshit hippie following the Grateful Dead in a haze of bong-water mist and patchouli oil. The old joke about cons is that in a short con, the mark gives the con man all the money he has in his pocket right then and there; in the long con, the mark goes home and sells all his shit and heads back to give the proceeds from that to the con man as well.
They're nothing but marks, and there will be more to come, and it's damn near impossible to give much of a shit. I'm honestly surprised they aren't previous customers of Chump University, because they're exactly the type.