The year is 2032. The crowd is gathering for God Emperor Trump’s birthday parede. Not voluntarily, but at least they get beer and a desiccated burger. The organizers are doing their best again to make the Emperor presentable. The orange makeup covers a lot, and the smell has been gone for a couple of years now. Still, their hearts tremble when the handwaving mechanism kicks in. People need to see Dear Leader strong, to forget the war that has been ravaging the Mid-Western states. The parede ends well, no body parts have been flung this year. People shuffle back to their buses, savoring the rare taste of beer in their mouth. Many of them take the burger in their pockets back to their kids in the barrack. It will be a good day for them too! Long live the Emperor!

Billionaires aren’t compatible with life. They are economic black holes who increase scarcity, uncertainty, entropy, and isolation. In a different verbiage, they are demons.

Without the Senate majority no impeachment will go through.

How about death penalty to Putin-supporting traitors to the West?