That’s true, sadly, though a hard truth to stomach in the era of Trump. Eww, yuck. Where did that come from?
Oh, right; it came from us. Half of us anyway, nearly.
We’ve become so accustomed to this daily spew of presidential bile: rage tweets, bald lies, outrageous claims, the whole wretched vomitorium, that it’s easy to become frozen in the moment, staring transfixed at today’s slurry, bubbling up from the depths, hardly daring to hope that at some point in the indeterminate future the man is going to be booted off the stage.
And then what?
Cue the celebration, right? Like the end of a Star Wars movie: trumpets blaring, banners flapping, Ewoks dancing, Luke and Leia exchanging coy smiles.
That’s what people seem to anticipate, with growing expectation, as Robert Mueller picks off Trump’s confederates one-by-one, and the bloodhounds of justice bay, closer and closer. The end is in sight!
Pretty to think so. If you are feeling that way, well, spoiler alert. You might want to stop reading here.To continue reading, click here.