There were only a few ways the Donald Trump mugshot could go: Would he go with a demure grin, the taunting smize of 2000s celebutantes? Or would he strike his familiar pose, his presidential headshot, squinting and threatening? Or would he try to pull off a grin?
The bad president-good tweeter surrendered to authorities at the Fulton County jail in Atlanta on Thursday, on charges that he illegally schemed to overthrow the 2020 election in Georgia. I couldn’t wait for the mugshot. I kept saying it aloud: “I can’t wait for the mugshot.” “When do you think the mugshot is gonna drop?” “I should set an alarm for the mugshot.” The mugshot propelled me through Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and even Thursday. …
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