He is the Walrus

It's hard not to search for meaning where there isn't any. Donald Trump, for example, challenges us to find meaning in his actions and there isn't any. It's just Donald being Donald. He is his own perverse justification. He (it) doesn't "mean" anything.

But beyond the insularity of Donald's profane and pathetic life it means something to us--the elevation of self-centeredness to its culmination in social decomposition, which could only be appealing from a place of supposed immunity to its consequences.

Donald is the walrus, a nonsense character dropped inappropriately into a drama. He has to be removed or quarantined if order is to be restored. Whoa, though. The script is being rewritten by naive people and rogues, thinking he means something.

So Donald is this or that they write in their blogs.

He is being impersonated or has been replaced. 

He's a plant and not a philodendron. 

How do we make sense of it? From the grassy knoll, perhaps?

Goo goo g'joob.