Joe Allen wants to know what the robot’s name is. At first, I think the double whiskey we downed at the hotel bar must be getting to him, as he sprints like a kid at recess toward a delivery vehicle. I’m anxious about the time: I’m supposed to be driving Allen to the airport, my Hail Mary effort to get him alone for a proper conversation before he leaves Atlanta.
I’ve been back and forth with Allen, who rose to national prominence as the anti-tech prophet on Steve Bannon’s War Room podcast, for a few weeks now, seeking an entry into
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