The front-runner spoke in the early afternoon in an arena that held forty-thousand cheering people. He knew how to attract a crowd. He was fascinating to listen to. His competitor, a doctor by trade, hung on to his every word. Every attack he made against the other candidates resonated with the guilty pleasure of doing away with any sort of political correctness. The good doctor admitted that he wanted that special something his opponent had – a fearlessness and a refusal to rehearse his lines or memorize his own platform. His competitor spoke from the top of his head. He loved to defend himself cravenly against his detractors by making searing attacks that his supporters loved.The good doctor, aside from being jealous, also knew that he would never be able to defeat him. It was worthless
