Right on , brother!

The nightmare going on in our nation’s capital, soon to spread across the rest of its landscape and on down the timestream to our children’s, children’s, children’s, children’s, children’s, children’s, children.

To say that he looked like the stereotypical abused spouse of an angry, violent, out-of-control offender is to put it rather mildly. His body language screamed that he wasn’t safe, it wasn’t safe to even try to tell a halfway honest, modestly complete story of the nightmare going on.

While the whole experience of watching various vignettes playing out in the quite possibly final transfer of power in our country was disturbing on an apocalyptic, doomsday scale, what finally exceeded my tolerance to watch any more of the unfolding horror was David Muir’s traumatized being itself.

Trump’s gratuitous dishonesty grates on my nerves about a thousand times more harshly than the old fingernails scraping across a blackboard of my childhood days in the Upper Midwest, hence my reluctance to view any of it.