I want to believe that there are other things to talk about. It’s just that every new day doesn’t feel totally new, which I guess would be the case even in normal times. A good night’s sleep doesn’t miraculously cure or erase the ailments of advancing age or dissipate the dark cloud that is the Trump administration.

The latter’s presence translates to daily wear and tear, a daily toll on many a psyche—in part because Trump is a daily embarrassment, and things often seem so bad, so much a caricature of evil and incompetence, that many of us can’t believe it’s real.

It is real, of course, and the longer it all goes on, the harder it will be to stop. It’s a battle of attrition; it has meant constant vigilance and protest at every turn. Many may be hoping that time itself will take care of the cancerous growths that have been allowed to spread, checked on occasion by litigation and protest but stunningly resilient. Letting things play out is not a cure, though.

Words come haltingly at times, because we’ve already used so many to describe the coldness and reckless abandon and deceit and zeal and almost cartoonish evil, along with a difficulty in believing that we could let such garbage through the door.

Endless verbal critique won’t rid us of the pestilence. We need to meet this coldness, this attack on reason and good judgment, with a dogged determination to preserve the founders’ vision, and to remind Trump and the rest that certain rules and guidelines are sacrosanct, in a non-religious sense, and not even he in all his ignorance masquerading as competence dare mess with trivializing their importance.

I went to a No Kings rally in a town not far from us. Estimates of crowd size will be in this morning’s local paper, but I’d say it was a decent, politely lively crowd that overflowed to the other side of the main street.

Plenty of signage, lots of honking, and at least one big Dodge diesel whose driver was most assuredly trying to interrupt the proceedings with loud revving and clouds of black exhaust. Donald would probably consider him for a position in his cabinet the next time an opening comes along. I’m glad there was no gunfire.

It was good to be a part of it, I guess. I didn’t hear anything particularly inspiring, and there was too much contrived, forced rah-rah for me. But there were a lot of things said that would make a Fox News junkie cringe—abiding by the Constitution, how billion$ can be found for war while essential programs are cut at home, reminders of the cost of essential goods and services, the heartlessness of the Trump administration.

I hope the numbers nationally were significantly more than the last rally day, but one estimate I heard put the total around 8 million. I was hoping for double-digit millions. To me, eight million out of 340 million isn’t anything to write home about. It truly surprises me that more able-bodied Americans weren’t out voicing their outrage yesterday. And yet the “fake news” networks will likely be crazy with people spinning the awesomeness of the turnout, that a message was clearly sent, with an overwhelming show of support for sane, truly patriotic leaders whose heads and hearts are in the right place.

I don’t know. There was a lot of sympathetic honking, as people drove by the rally. I hope it all makes a difference and causes Trump’s BP to shoot through the roof. There would be some consolation in that, for sure.

We live under the cloud of a person whose goal is to exhaust us, who demands an inordinate amount of attention, and who is forcing us to resort to attending No Kings rallies, where we must waste a portion of a perfectly good Saturday demonstrating our distaste for behavior so childish and vile and inappropriate that it boggles the mind.

He’s dangerously vindictive, full of hate, full of himself and at the same time an empty-souled vagrant wandering the halls of power. He’s at the mercy of people more legitimately crafty and evil than he is.

He has always been a spoiled, needy and deprived thug wannabe, enamored of shiny things, wielding power for power’s sake. Shallow, uncaring, unapologetic, bereft of a healthy sense of humor, indifferent to the damage he and those around him are inflicting.

He’s behaving like somebody who eventually sees the façade, all of what passes for “greatness,” come crashing to the ground.

I’ve been indulging the idyllic lately.

With everything that’s frightening and concerning going on the world, I am reveling in the sheer joy of our grandchildren’s laughter and innocence, as they go through their days mostly oblivious to ugly humans who insist on violence and power grabs and misery.

I find myself hoping they never know what the people of Ukraine have known for four years now, or what the people of Israel or southern Lebanon or Sudan or Iran have faced on a daily basis.

Their eyes will be opened over time, exposed to the burdens and challenges of an imperfect world. But for now, may they only know the great gift of parents and extended family who love and protect them, who feed their imaginations and allow them to be kids.