Somewhere back in December, I swore an oath to singlehandedly dominate the “Trump renames stuff after himself” beat here at National Review, and that was because I realized that it provided a fascinatingly cramped (yet clear) window into the inner workings of the man’s soul. As my readers will remember, I first keyed into this when he started reshaping the White House in ways both great and small. When he illegally and peremptorily renamed the Kennedy Center as “The Donald J. Trump and the John F. Kennedy Memorial Center” — despite his being neither dead nor particularly well liked — ...

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