Trumpie sent a lynch mob after his enemies, real and imagined

We heard testimony on Thursday from Shaye Moss and her mother, Ruby Freeman, two election workers from Georgia, vilified by the former president of the United States. Their personal information was “doxxed” by Trumpists, and a threatening lynch mob arrived at their doors. One angry “patriot” told the daughter “you’re lucky this is 2020 and and not 1920…”. The FBI then advised the two to move to undisclosed locations to avoid mob violence.

The mob was sent to their houses by Donald Trump, who spread the lie that these two “professional scammers” had corruptly rigged the election results in Fulton County, Georgia to the tune of tens of thousands of fraudulent ballots, counted three times each.

My phone, very smart, began playing Trump’s call with Brad Raffensberger in my pocket last night. It was fascinating to listen to in light of all we now know about Trump’s coordinated plan to stay in power no matter what.

After listening to the detailed story of what the two defamed Fulton County poll workers (coincidentally both female, and Black) were subjected to, after they were singled out by Trump, by name, as professional fraudsters, I heard Trump, in his own inimitable voice, cite the fact that many online were asking “where’s Ruby?” as proof that his lie about Ruby being a crook had legs. “Brad, come on, my lie has fucking legs, don’t be a fucking hump.” As for the possibility he could have lost Georgia, it was beyond dispute that he’d won Georgia, his immense anti-mask, anti-vax MAGA rallies dwarfing Biden’s tiny, weak live gatherings were indisputable proof he’d won the state.

I think this recorded phone call, claiming that Ruby Freeman “stuffed the ballot box” with 18,000 to 56,000 fake Biden votes, is all the proof needed for a nice defamation settlement for Ruby Freeman and her daughter, the two defamed former Fulton County election workers forced out of their jobs, and their homes, by a desperately lying sore loser and the menacing mob he pointed at them and unleashed. Here’s a pertinent slice, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the Artist of the Deal incarnate:

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