Following up from Donald Trump’s recent conversation with the Washington Post Editorial Board, this week’s New Yorker cover by Barry Blitt is a brilliant melange of Trumpist expressions and thoughts as expressed as scribes on his hands – think palm readings or test cheating. Some lines seem so far-fetched you think they must be made-up, and then you see his train wreck rally speeches and press Q&As and…

This guy is a complete dufus.