The New Yorker · 4 Nov 2026
The Night that Texas’s Seemingly Unchangeable Republican Identity Vanished
The ranger’s shoulders tensed; this was not the first time he’d been asked this question, it seemed. “We’re not supposed to talk about politics,” he said. A bearded man in motorcycle gear was next in line. He radiated the kind of spiky, aggressive energy that I associate with the President’s most fervent supporters, and, as he stepped up to the counter, I braced for conflict.
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