So, what will this week bring? The first casualties? The first deaths in the streets?

I know—I’m such a ray of sunshine. But who among us hasn’t at least gone there once or twice, to that place where we resign ourselves to the fact that confrontations are inevitable? Trump’s motives are as obvious as the empty-eyed stare on Stephen Miller’s face.

Troops aren’t needed in Chicago or Boston or anywhere else. They’re only needed in the mind of Trump and others who just can’t handle the possibility of losses in the next election, or any subsequent elections. Elections are anathema to the movement, they don’t fit with the “vision,” such as it is.

It will be interesting to see what happens if Trump sends troops to Chicago. JB Pritzker will be challenged to walk the walk. If he’s as much of a boss as previous public figures in Illinois, maybe he’s got an ace up his sleeve. Maybe law enforcement will back him, which may cause one to worry about the above confrontations.

Kinda makes one wonder what’s going through the minds of the troops being assigned. Might they be muttering, at least to themselves, “This is bullshit”?

He’s deprived. Glittering gold in the Oval Office, gaudy frills everywhere. And now his puppy dog, eager-to-please press secretary announces that he’s done enough to deserve one more piece of bling: the Nobel Peace Prize. There would be no more dissonant an occurrence than Trump receiving the Nobel Peace Prize, but you can bet he and his lackies are “reaching out” to the people with connections.

The people around him are so subservient, they’ve got their heads buried so far up his ass that no stone will be left unturned. It may just happen. And it would be among the biggest, most farcical misappropriations in the history of the awards. Maybe at the top of that list.

No matter to Donald, though, because all he’s ever wanted is to rub it in Barack’s face.

He did the right thing. Various media were playing it up like Keegan Bradley deserved to play, that he had an agonizing decision to make because he had the right to pick himself to play as well as captain the Ryder Cup team. I’m glad he decided not to do that. It would have been a bit selfish, to say the least, and of course it would have left someone off who could have had the experience of making the team if not for another large ego.

But that didn’t happen. Instead, he showed restraint, and took the high road. It turned out to be not nearly as agonizing as various pundits were making it seem. I hope things go well for him and the team. And I hope the event is unmarred by stupid fans.

Every day, the news gets worse. Gavin Newsom, according to some, is already jockeying for position in 2028. Others feel he’s reacting to the moment, getting under Trump’s skin, which can be both a great thing and also potential trouble for the agitator—because you know accusations in some form are coming, or there will be more troops arriving in Californians’ back yards.

It’s great, isn’t it, to watch day after day as our elected leaders sink to the lowest common denominator and make fools of themselves, investing time and energy in frivolous pursuits while funding streams dry up and genuine challenges get ignored?

It’s unforgiveable, Donald. Your day of reckoning has to be coming.

This decision to send in the National Guard and taking over local law enforcement is really troubling. But the issue for me—beyond the visual of troops in the streets of only Democratically-led cities—is the seeming inevitability of the troops themselves just following orders. Isn’t it possible for them to decide not to follow orders?

Are they that programmed and that blind to the moment that they can’t make a decision for themselves and just say No?

This is a moral issue, these are no ordinary times. There is no unrest, there are no hurricanes to clean up after. It’s just a megalomaniacal poor sport paving the way for total control and wreaking havoc in the 2026 midterms and beyond, giving orders and doing atrocious things simply because he can.

He’s drunk with power, and he’s putty in the hands of the Heritage Foundation crowd.

I got up to use the bathroom around 4:30 this morning, which meant I could return to bed for another half hour before the alarm went off. So I did that, and was asleep and dreaming in what must have been less than a minute.

It was a short but vivid dream—I was being confronted by a Trump supporter who was reprimanding me for muttering something under my breath after she launched into the tired line about how we have to listen to each other if there’s any hope of moving beyond the current entrenchment. I started to respond to her abrupt tone, which I guess I deserved, but then woke up.

I didn’t get back to sleep, because I lay there trying to formulate my response. I’ve just rushed through my journal entry and bypassed the Daily Writing Prompt—for now—to get to this before it leaves my head. So here goes…

There was a time, back in 2015 maybe, when such an effort might have been warranted— i.e., making the effort to talk to each other. Donald Trump, in certain ways, was an unknown quantity, and people were open to giving him a listen, even giving him a chance, since he spoke plainly and with what many took as refreshing honesty about issues that mattered to folks—cost of living, border security, etc.

From my perspective, I already knew enough about him to be highly suspicious and unconvinced that he had any business being considered for the job of President of the United States. He emanated a disconcerting vibe, reminded me of an entitled rich kid who always got his way. He appealed to peoples’ worse angels. He annoyed the hell out of me, and I wasn’t the only one who felt this way.

Even back then, he was laying out his “plan,” offering hints of things to come when it came to a crackdown on illegal aliens, and his hatred for Barack Obama. We were well aware of the slight he felt from things Obama said– and the fact that Obama had won a Nobel Peace Prize. Then there was the embarrassment Trump apparently took to heart after Seth Meyers laid into him at an earlier Washington Correspondents Dinner in 2011.

So, we all knew he filed things away, remembered the slights, always contemplated payback.

What we’ve come to learn since is that a monster was created, and let loose on us all, because payback is one of his main motivators. He’s a damaged child. He never grew up.

Cutting to the chase, the time for dialogue between sides is long over. There is nothing to parse, nothing on which to meet halfway, nothing that would soften my stance when it comes to Donald Trump. In some ways, he’s just the poster child for a more insidious problem, which is personified in the likes of Stephen Miller, Russell Vought, Kevin Roberts, and Steve Bannon. Trump is just the sad point man, but since he’s POTUS—again!—he’s the one out front who gets the blame. As it is, he does and says enough stuff on his own to warrant numerous spit takes.

Anyway, if this morning’s dream had continued, I hope I would have been able to tell this person that some sort of truce is unseemly. The time for finding something of value in any opinion of someone who still supports Donald Trump is over. Has been for a long time.

Get it through your heads, MAGA loyalists: you’ve long backed the wrong horse, and the only reason you’re still with him is either because the stock market is doing OK, or he stimulates your misplaced religious fervor and your belief that White is Right.

Just remember—no one will escape his wrath. Even his most ardent supporters are just a means to some end. He doesn’t give a shit about about any of us, including those who can still say they love him.