If you're planning to vote for Donald Trump, you're not a conservative. You're not a principled Republican. You're a homer, and you're on Team Trump.
In sports, a "homer" is an announcer or commentator with a clear favorite. Sure, their team just fumbled, but that means it's time to get that defense back on the field! A loss, or a player getting arrested, or a coach ignoring sexual assault because that would just get in the way of their title hunt — these things are just "building character" or "the foundation for an eventual championship." And by the way, that other team does it too.
So if you're still pro-Trump by now, that's you. You thought that paid maternity leave was a terrible idea, a massive overreach of governmental influence and too expensive to boot. But when Trump said he would support paid maternity leave, you realized it was actually great! You value a limited government, a government so small you'd barely notice it was there, and then when Trump said he'd deport 11 million people — which would require a massive expansion of government — and build a wall between the United States and Mexico (there's that government again!) you bought yourself a hat and a sweatshirt and announced to the world that you were firmly on his bandwagon, all lack of conservative bonafides be damned.
If that sounds like you, Trump supporter — you're a homer.
For homers, there's nothing Trump could do that would betray you. The authoritarian tendencies you saw creeping around Barack Obama are now fully, plainly visible. The willingness to ignore Constitutional norms that you believed lurked deep inside Obama's heart is genuinely there in Trump's. But this time it's okay, because it's Trump.
You had strongly held beliefs about abortion, until you didn't. WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange was a traitor in your eyes, until he became a hero because he released emails that could be damaging to Trump's opposition. You love Trump's ideas about universal healthcare and social security, even when they're actually Obama's or Hillary Clinton's.
When Trump inevitably changes course on immigration again, you'll be fine with it. "That's how we'll win in November," you'll say, "by taking on those liberal talking points for ourselves." And when Trump reveals his support for Planned Parenthood? Again, you'll be fine with it. "Well, we can't end abortion in a day," you'll say. "Gotta work step by step." And when Trump says in a debate that, actually, we should raise taxes on the middle class or else we won't be able to afford that giant wall or to deport millions of people or to make all those infrastructure investments you've opposed for decades — you will, again, be fine with it. "You gotta spend money to make real change!" you'll say.
Trumpism isn't a movement or a sweeping declaration of principle. It's homerism. It's a sport. And if you have to betray everything you said you believed in to win, well, so be it. Winning isn't everything; it's the only thing. A football coach once said that, but if it had been Trump, you'd be okay with that, too.