![]() ![]() He had married the beautiful Carrie Fidelle Bacon-“Delle,” to most people, but he called her Carrie-from Milledgeville, Georgia, and rather than continue with college, he had become a contractor and built a successful company called Taylor Construction. Bob Taylor was the son of a steel-mill worker he had served in Vietnam he had hung siding to pay for classes at Eastern Michigan University. Her father was Robert David Taylor, a Michigan transplant for whom a three-story home had never been guaranteed but who had believed acutely in its possibility. Graham: Marjorie Taylor Greene is just a symptom of what ails the GOP She was a product, her family loved to say, of the “Great American Dream.” There was a three-story home at the end of a shaded driveway in the small town of Cumming, Georgia, north of Atlanta there was a finished basement in which Marge-and that is what she was called, Marge-and her friends would gather in faded nylon one-pieces after a swim in Lake Lanier.ĭavid A. She had barely settled into office before being stripped of her committee assignments she has been called a “cancer” on the Republican Party by Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell and she now has a loud voice in the GOP’s most consequential decisions on Capitol Hill because her party’s leaders know, and she knows they know, that she has become far too popular with their voters to risk upsetting her. Marjorie Taylor Greene arrived in Congress in January 2021, blond and crass and indelibly identified with conspiracy theories involving Jewish space lasers and Democratic pedophiles. “I mean, she really is just amazing.”Ĭheck out more from this issue and find your next story to read. “She is just so great,” I heard someone say. Upon looking up, I came eye-level with a pistol tucked into the khaki waistband of an elderly man in front of me. I was knocked to my seat when a tablemate’s corrugated-plastic FLOOD THE POLLS sign collided inadvertently with my head. Not far away, two women clung to each other and shrieked. Later, as she spoke, one man jumped to his feet with such force that his chair fell over. She was beheld, like a religious apparition. ![]() But when she did arrive, the tardiness was forgiven and the Cobb County Republican Party’s November breakfast was made new. A man named Barry was compelled to lead the room in a rendition of Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the U.S.A.” to stall for time. ![]() This article was featured in One Story to Read Today, a newsletter in which our editors recommend a single must-read from The Atlantic, Monday through Friday. ![]()
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