I always end up arriving at the same conclusion: Trump is a really bad joke. He’s POTUS, but it will always be astounding that he’s POTUS.
Making fun of people, coveting— then receiving —someone else’s Nobel Peace Prize; a train of thought that’s mostly focused on tributes to himself while the country is being disemboweled, limping along to an uncertain future.
He’s neglectful, blind, and corrupt to the core of his being. He’s irresponsible, perhaps unredeemable, a real-life caricature of hollowness who continues to be propped up by an army of sycophants just along for the ride.
Sometimes it feels like a bad dream from which we can’t awaken, or an untenable situation from which we can’t extricate ourselves. It often seems like everything is fuel for him. He is maddeningly efficient, alert when he wants to be, able to convert praise or criticism into something that motivates and energizes.
He is endlessly vengeful, entirely self-involved, and very pliable. Feed him a compliment and he’ll be your puppy dog. Until he can’t use you anymore.
He’s a sad, sad, somehow dangerous man who needs to be relieved of his duties. The whole world knows this, but everyone else has their problems, too.
And let’s face it: some players on the world stage are feeling like they have us right where they want us. They’re in no hurry to see him leave. He’s perfect for the job.
3 Cents' 