The Mad King's end

While I was away tending to work, a panoply of ludicrousness unfolded before the world's eyes.

Donald Trump, Patient Zero, checked himself out of Walter Reed, and returned to the White House. As he arrived at the White House, he mounted the balcony, removed his facemask—thus spreading his infection everywhere—and labored to breathe. As of this writing, "gasping" is trending on Twitter.

Trump is so vain, so fearful of looking weak, that he'll pull some stunt which he thinks will make him look "strong", but instead confirms his infirmity. He was wheezing and in obvious pain. And he again put others at risk, from his Secret Service detail, to the low-paid, non-political White House employees who have to cater to his cadaverous ass.

No, he's not faking his illness. This episode should put paid to that ridiculous and enervating conspiracy theory. He's sick, he's getting worse, and it's even odds if he survives the next two weeks.

I'm at the point where I want a just God's judgment to rain down on the evil. I want a cleansing. I want a "settling of all family business". 

We will have so much work to do over the coming years to repair this broken nation. But it's work we're called to do, and we dare not shirk our duty.

This is your open thread.