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 witnesses his own demise, who 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 living in 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.

I’ve never totally understood why it hasn’t been more obvious to a larger number of people.

I think I’m grasping the dynamic of standing one’s ground—it’s what the different sides have been doing since Trump descended from on high. Still, over time, it surprises me that support for policies and for the person himself hasn’t eroded further than it has.

If for no other reasons than Trump’s personality and demeanor, many have thought since the outset that he would be a flash in the pan—he’s shallow, self-involved, lazy. We’ve apparently underestimated how far anger and vindictiveness could carry him, along with the racist whispering and Savior complex, and the cadre of misfits and sycophants feeding him sound bytes and offering up the daily dose of compliments and kudos that feed his narcissism. Not to mention the Playbook.

It’s been ten years of a perfect storm—even when he was out of office! Think of the army of attorneys he’s had to employ. Think of how badly he wants victory at any cost. Not victory in an unwarranted war, or over nagging domestic challenges, but victory for himself, in any form—whether it’s someone else’s Nobel Peace Prize, or putting his name on buildings, creating his own NIL scheme, tearing down a whole wing of the White House, demeaning people left and right, or in general usurping power and abusing privileges.

Policies—or lack thereof—notwithstanding, one might dare think, “How is it possible for such a vacuous, emptied-souled cretin to hold sway for so long?”

The answer lies, in no small part, in an unsettling reality: he’s had help. He’s got a largely impotent Congress, and “friends” in high places who think he’s either a business genius or a sap who’s easy to play. There’s a whole cadre of alternate universe thinkers who possess a horrifying vision for America, and they see Trump as the one through whom they can extend their reach.

He and a cadre of Republicans will denigrate Democrats for holding up funding for DHS, but the reality is that he long ago planted the seeds of peoples’ opposition to the draconian measures that have become a hallmark of this administration.

He often reaps what he sows, but he refuses to learn.