The constant drama and bomb-throwing; the tastelessness and ostentation; the hair-proud flamboyance; the glittery distractions. It’s too much stress for me. So I’m in a self-imposed exile from the Internet and television and DJT. I’m simply worn out. The fuming over foolishness I can’t stop and can’t possibly fathom is too exhausting.
If the last ten days are anything to go by, the world is on the brink. Why waste time listening to Trump interpreters explain the inexplicable? Besides, no ‘president’ should require that much explanation. The dissension and chaos coming from the White House speaks clear enough: this administration is in a desperate mess. There’s no strategy or plan or order. Best not to listen. Best not to know and despair.
Best to buy a toaster and relax. To sprinkle cinnamon sugar on warm, buttered bread and read a book. We need to return to a sane goddamn life and forego the constant upheaval that is the hallmark of Donald Trump and his venal band of demolition experts. They can blast away at the foundation of America, but I won’t watch. And I can’t stop them. The GOP could — and should — but doesn’t.
Mr. Trump is a vulgar crime against humanity.
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