As my demise circles closer, I must admit to cheating. As soon as I found out that California allowed one to “Die with Dignity” I signed up for the magic potion, that will let me decide when to kick the bucket, pull the blast cord, take that long walk off a short pier, and all of those colorful phrases humankind has come up with when facing the Big “D”, as in DEATH. The reason is unimportant to all but my friends, but a morbid curiosity lurks as my readers wonder why. Simple enough, I should have quit smoking years before I did and now the bill comes due. As death sentences go, I have it pretty easy, eventually I will cease to breath. Why, in Heaven’s name, should it matter whom I choose to carry on following the Trump Debacle? You must admit, as debacles go, Trump’s was pretty damned impressive, outside of a marathon game of Limbo, I doubt “How much lower can he go” only to see it topped (or is that bottomed) again and again and again and yet could be mentioned that many times. We watched in disbelief as adult after adult trod the dusty plank off the ship’s side and wondered where it would stop. When kids started taking the tumble (not the caged brown ones, the greedy ones in Trump’s pocket) we began to wonder where he found such an inhumane lot. That was easy! They’d been lurking around the doors of our representatives for decades and Donnie also had a fine lineup right there in the membership lists of his nearly bankrupt clubs, restaurants and hotels. It seems there’s an endless supply of rats eager or not so eagerly forced to leave the Good Ship Trump. each was determined to dive in and make off with their piece of the taxpayer pie.Once again, impeachment had waved its pretty head, but like the boy who cried wolf, this one-time siren had lost a lot of her allure. There is an added appeal to the Orange One’s wardrobe change, he has adult children who have been unable to keep their sticky fingers out of the candy jar. With the exception of the youngest, the veneer of beauty and riches is terribly thin, particularly when foreign money stops dropping into their alway empty pockets. It is almost painful, my desire to see Ivanka in White Trailer Trash’s latest fashion releases. That will only happen if she has been given limited release, passports gone, assets frozen, ankle lock on that svelte tennis ankle. In fact, considering the graft that he lives with day by day, is Barron safe from the golden hooks that reel in his family like a marlin on a luxury cruise? What ever the results of America’s favorite crime family I need fewer heads striving to take their place before I can begin to decide a proper POTUS. Please, no more actors or reality stars! It’s too hard to tell where fiction ends and reality is hard enough to face as it is.