The Trump train is belching black smoke, careening down the track with no engineer besides Stephen Miller and a few other hangers-on.

It’s the same dullness and darkness as eight years ago, only this time around it’s all a known quantity. And with the added knowledge of having a candidate who only wants to be President because he needs a place to hide. He needs the power of the office—to avenge, to nullify, to pardon, to run roughshod over democratic norms, and quite possibly to stay in power for the rest of his life.

The never-fading question is and would be, “How could we let him get this far—in the first place, and again?!” Apart from a few one-percenters being thrilled, there is no upside to a Trump win. None whatsoever. His faithful followers are mind-numbingly delusional, if only because they see what he is and still want him. AI Paul Harvey aside, surely they cannot believe that he is some prophet, or even a savior sent by God…

If their only reason for sticking with him is to stick it to the Libs, well, that’s all we need to know. A revenge vote, a stick-it-to-the-lousy-Communist-liberal-Democrats—without, apparently, any thought given to the implications of such nearsighted lunacy.

It’s the sheer fatigue, you know? It’s the ugly persona, the relentless drumbeat of mindless rhetoric and illogical statements and empty promises. And the intentional gullibility—either his supporters are supremely deceived, or they know exactly what they’re doing, and they just don’t care.

“A republic, if you can keep it.” Indeed, Mr. Franklin. Indeed.

November 5 is still almost nine months away. Yup.

Who knows what the ballot is going to look like? Sounds like Joe Biden is no slam dunk, after some special counsel opinion that there’s something off with his mind and memory. And Trump has so many potential roadblocks that one might dare envision something wild and unforeseen yet unfolding in terms of who we end up being able to vote for.

And yet, my money is on Trump still standing, and Joe Biden still limping. It’s difficult to envision any other slate of candidates emerging in time. Short of Trump’s passage from this mortal coil, the mere threat of a supporter uprising will keep him on the ballot. And Biden will weather this latest political assault on his viability.

It seems at this point that there is no way to make Trump go away. This long, excruciating, unnecessary slog will have to run its course, all the way to 11/5, when the sane majority sends Trump the message he should have heeded long ago: go the fuck away, and shut the hell up.

Trump could be massacred by 8 or 10 million votes this time (in my dreams), and he will still claim foul. So, then what? Is he just a scourge we have to live with until he dies?

CNN projects Trump will win Nevada.

Wow, that must have been a tough call.

It’s pretty nice when you can finagle a whole separate mechanism that gives you delegates without having to face any opposition. How does he do it?

And then, of course, we have a Supreme Court who has almost complete unanimity regarding the call on Trump’s being dumped in Colorado. No can do, says Chief Justice Roberts, allegedly concerned that one state could make the call for the other 49, but also mindful of the same thing various state officials are worried about—removing a popular candidate from ballots and facing the prospect of his supporters becoming angry and violent.

No consideration of Trump’s actions and involvement on January 6, I’m assuming because no verdict has been reached yet in the case being prosecuted by Jack Smith. So all the punditry and prognostication exuding confidence that the 14^th Amendment provision is a slam dunk in terms of plain language and clarity is out the window.

And the highest court in the land looks to be reluctant to handle the moment, splitting hairs over what constitutes insurrection and involvement in it, and refusing to make the hard decision. Looks like it will be left in the hands of voters in November, unless there is a verdict in the Smith case. But even with a guilty verdict, Trump will just appeal and drag things out.

So, may we have a robust, trustworthy election apparatus still in place by November.

We should all get some rest.

Nikki Haley lost to a non-person in the Nevada jokefest. Must be somewhat embarrassing. She can’t survive much longer. I’m sure Trump is laughing. Haley’s no prize, but she’d be more palatable than Orangeman.

It won’t be long now, until the inevitable is confirmed and Trump has the nomination in hand. How is this remotely possible?

How can Nevada get away with holding a primary that doesn’t mean anything, where Nikki Haley is left out to dry and loses to an inanimate category? How can the same state then kowtow to Trump and hold a caucus two days later where Trump is on the ballot but Haley isn’t? And the caucus vote is what gives the candidate delegates.

This is for real? Trump dictates strategy to the whole damn party, including rejection of the bill on immigration and aid to several countries because he wants a border in flames to campaign on. He somehow finagles dual contests in Nevada that work to his advantage. How does the party let these shenanigans happen?

It’s happening before our eyes, and all we can do is throw up our hands, apparently.

As I stood at the kitchen window this morning, before I turned on the light over the sink and poured my cold brew, I couldn’t help but notice the twinkling stars and the quiet of the predawn. It’s like this every morning, though not always clear. Sometimes the clouds hang low, or fog diffuses the light bathing the steeple of the Christian Church one street over.

But my day starts with peace and quiet in a warm house with electricity and running water. And every morning my thoughts turn immediately to Gaza or Ukraine or somewhere that currently exists in some sort of forbidden hellscape.

I think about accidents of birth. I ponder the concepts of fairness and luck, and the cold hearts of people who are leaders in title only, people filled with hate and selfishness and a contemptuous apathy.

I think about the frailty of my own relative contentment, about what separates my peaceful morning from the shattered existence of people who live in places where war seems to be the only reality, where leaders don’t care, where losses mount, where government services have broken down or don’t exist, where prospects for any kind of future are dim, and no one comes to help.

And then I go downstairs for my two hours of quiet time, tucked away from everything and everybody, awash in the comfort and familiarity of my daily routine. I do indeed feel lucky. I savor every moment, convinced of my good fortune, all the while unable to shake a certain guilt and restlessness because my awareness and sensitivities have yet to blossom into anything more than thoughts and an occasional prayer.

Trump’s VP choice. Does it really matter? Will it be arm candy, or might he surprise everybody and choose somebody who’s… capable? More likely, it’ll simply be a placeholder, a yes-person, maybe a pretty face.

They won’t work as a team. You wouldn’t think he’d pick anyone who could possibly outshine him or even offer advice. Trump will be off doing his own thing all the time, while the VP will stand dutifully to the side, maybe given some obscure assignment or mission that won’t overshadow or take away from whatever Trump would be opining about.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves, aren’t we? How easy it has become to speak as if a second Trump term could actually come to pass! There’s a world of hurt circling above him that has to start dropping before too much longer. And if he does somehow make it to November, when push comes to shove, will voters be able to bring themselves to choose him?

He can’t get that far. For numerous reasons, he shouldn’t even be in this process. Many know that, and yet… there he is. He’s way worse than a bad penny.

Greg Abbott and the rest of the mostly southern governors are playing with fire, upping the ante with this grandstanding show at the border, which is probably their intent.

I’m tired of their antics, though. One-issue cowboys doing their best rebel imitations, trying to muscle their way into the national spotlight. Don’t mess with Texas… the South will rise again… enough of the provincial bullshit.

Yes, immigration is a serious issue, but it’s not the only issue. And while sending busloads of unwitting immigrants all over the country might “raise awareness,” it’s not the best way to curry favor with all those perceived coastal elites who are dealing with their own challenges and don’t necessarily appreciate being force fed some morality tale.

One thing it may do is add to the bad blood that’s been coursing through the veins since before the Civil War.

What’s somewhat of a mystery is how there can be such a disconnect between certain economic numbers of late—which have been quite rosy—and the opinion polls regarding how people feel about the economy. I guess it has something to do with the (still) high cost of food.

Or is it more complicated than that? Is it somehow related to consistent negative reporting that’s getting more attention and having more of an effect? Many, after all, don’t listen to MSNBC or any of the other major networks besides Fox.

Are there more people in the Trump camp than there are in the Biden camp who will say their lives suck simply because they know it will dampen enthusiasm for Biden? Or is it more the sad reality that there are many more people who are still having to make the difficult choice between paying for food, or medicine?

What will happen if Trump loses again? Will he finally shut up (that’s funny)? Will the nooses from all the indictments finally tighten? Or would we be in for yet another four years of griping and whining about results and witch hunts and rigged voting?

Will this misery never end?

I liked what Bill Maher had to say about the music that people are listening to, and the messages within the music. There is an unmistakable emphasis on money and acquiring stuff, a message which inevitably resonates and wriggles its way into immature psyches everywhere.

Watch next weekend, when many eyes will be focused on Sin City, aptly named, as the Super Bowl hype machine unfolds for the masses to marvel at and consume and even absorb. It is gross, over-the-top hyper-marketing, with a loud, in-your-face halftime show that probably will induce a few seizures and flaunt someone’s sexuality and convey a message about fame and fortune or a skewed picture of what love is.

Or maybe Taylor Swift’s presence will distract from everything because people will be waiting to see if she drops down from the rafters to endorse Joe Biden.