Donald thinks he's hitting his groove. His blight brigade charges on, despite desertions, heavy losses, courts-martial, resignations for moral turpitude, and self-immolations by suicide-stunt. It careens into the unknown.
Moron Donald is waging an imaginary war. His instict in the face of failure is to double down in pursuit of cosmic affirmation and always attack. He’ll take any kind of affirmation. It’s the only currency that matters.
I fear the casino fate awaits us. No way is drama-queen Donald going to admit to himself his incompetence. If he implodes it must be biblical. It must be epic and epochal. If he implodes all the damage will accrue to us.
So, why should he care. He doesn’t. When the crash happens he’ll rationalize, refinance, restructure and move on, leaving the mess behind. He'll leave the mess to us. We are the mess. Atlantic City, here we come.
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