I don’t want him dead. I want him to live long enough to see the world reject him. I want him to understand that his life and his choices were wasted, empty victories, and I want him to recognize how he will be remembered as a tyrant and a ghoul.

Unfortunately, I expect him to die of old age, happy, powerful, and as comfortable as anyone with money can be at his age. That’s the shit-cherry on the garbage sundae that we all have to eat at the sunset of American greatness.