Donald Trump is not an easy president to cover. His penchant for hyperbole and his habit of making explosive claims without evidence challenge the norms of political journalism, which by default accords the statements of public officials at least a modicum of credence. In general, when a president or his administration accuses another public official of impropriety or criminality, that’s a big story.

If the Trump White House is to be believed, Steve Bannon’s removal from the National Security Council is not a demotion. It’s more like a minor reshuffling prompted by the fact that Bannon has successfully “de-operationalized” the NSC. Nothing to see here, folks! The New York Times tells a somewhat different story, reporting that Bannon so dreaded the prospect of losing his NSC perch that he threatened to quit if the seat got yanked out from under him.

HARRISON, Arkansas—Whether or not you think his policies are explicitly racist, President Donald Trump has brought white nationalism to the fore of the American zeitgeist. Efforts to make white nationalist dogma mainstream, though, didn’t start with Richard Spencer’s repackaging of upper-class racism as a think tank, or Steve Bannon whispering in President Trump’s ear. In the Ozarks, the normalization of white supremacist ideology started decades ago.

Donald Trump and his press secretary Sean Spicer don’t get a lot of easy questions these days. From the president’s incendiary tweets and public statements to the intrigue over the Trump campaign’s possible ties to Russia to the failure of the GOP’s Obamacare repeal, the White House has a lot to answer for.

Devin Nunes, the Republican Chairman of the House Intelligence Committee, is in hot water. Last Wednesday, he went to the White House to brief President Trump on secret intelligence documents—which Nunes refused to share with his own committee—that supposedly showed Trump and his associates had been incidentally surveilled during the presidential transition.

Newark Avenue in Jersey City, New Jersey,has the look of an old AmericanMain Street. Tightly packed buildings are in good repair. Storefront windows facing busy sidewalks are stocked with clothing and goods. Cars pull in and out of curbside parking spaces all day long; passersby recognize one another, stop, and chat on the street. It’s Rockwell-esque. Like most of America’s vibrant downtown retail districts, this one is run and sustained almost entirely by immigrants.

The Virginia gubernatorial race, which will take place this coming fall, will be one of the nation’s first big post–Donald Trump political contests. (New Jersey will also elect a governor this year.) Democrats in the state will pick their candidate in a primary this June.

The American Health Care Act was pronounced DOA on Friday afternoon, a remarkable defeat for President Trump and a major victory for the American public as a whole. Donald Trump, though, has never been one to accept losing easily—or all that coherently.

Donald Trump would like us to believe that he is at once the most powerful man on the planet and the one who is least responsible for anything that goes wrong. This is a tough nut to crack. It means that when, say, his American Health Care Act fails to attract the necessary votes to replace Obamacare, it is totally not his fault, and also all his idea. The psychic contortions that Trump must undergo in order to occupy both of these poles simultaneously are a marvel to behold.

Early in November, just a few days before the election, a gathering of white nationalists, heterodox academics, libertarians, and other misfits of the right convened in Baltimore. The H.L. Mencken Club was meeting for its ninth annual conference—a two-day affair featuring lectures, debates, and conversations about the future of American conservatism. November’s conference came amid surging interest in the alt-right, which owes its very name to the club.