There is nothing satirical about Andy Borowitz's coverage of Trump's bushwhacking of Volodymyr Zelensky in the Kremlin's Oval Office.
Zelensky Meets With Russian Agent
A rather prolonged "physical event" (I'll call it) about 48 hours ago prevented me from posting on Thursday, molesting my intent to write each day while on the road. That tedious inconvenience then delayed my arrival at the next hotel room on Friday, too late to witness Trump's murderous act live and in Russian RT color.
But, this being 4:30 a.m. Saturday, I can see that the blood is still fresh, that of the Ukrainian president and 44 million of his fellow citizens back home.
Assisting Putin's contract killer was JD Vance, smelling of mothballs and sounding immensely proud of himself for interjecting, at just the right moment. a vacuous falsehood about Zelensky's "disrepect" for America.
(Such is the right's foremost, multipurpose argumentation tactic: interrupt with an untruthful, subject-changing distraction and repeat at ever-higher volumes so that a) the other guy can't get a word in and b) the base has a dishonest talking point which they can repeat ad infinitum.)
And now, at 4;45 a.m., I find I have no other words beyond this briefiest of essentials. Other commentators have already written from various angles about Friday's supplemental suffocation of America by Trump — his drowning of the U.S. in Russia's authoritarian sewer — merely the most recent abomination once utterly unthinkable, to which I've nothing to add.
Instead, a question in declarative form: How long before Americans of conscience. honor and decency mobilize en masse and shout — No more. this stops now.
I never thought I'd see the day my country would become part of the axis of evil. Again, I can't begin to fathom how we're going to make it through the next four years.