It's Strange, Love

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I was going to mention that I have a new [in fact, actually very old] strategy for hyperlinking documents in my ever-increasing collection of references and oddments, but more of that tomorrow. To be frank, it's now impossible to gloss over, skirt around or ignore the fact that Donald J. Trump, 'leader' of the free world and the man with the nuclear codes at hand that could most certainly be used to reduce the known world to ashes, is utterly and completely bonkers. Barking. Certifiable. Ready for straitjacket and padded cell. Delusional doesn't even come close as a description of this man: he has literally identified himself, in order of posts on his own social media platform as a) The Pope, b) A King in a fighter jet, and most recently as c) Jesus Christ himself. In days past, pronouncements such as these would have seen him burnt at the stake for heresy, blasphemy, or probably for just plain lunacy. The man is clearly deranged; but the most disturbing thing about him and his unhinged 'communications' to the world is that no-one - save dear old Ed Davey of the Liberal Democrats [at least on this side of the pond] - is calling this lunatic out for what he actually is: mad, bad, and dangerous to know. The difference between him and Byron is that Trump himself, unlike the poet, has not created a single thing of worth in his life, and never will. Someone needs to call time on this idiot before he destroys the world's economy and kills more innocent people in the wake of his psychotic fantasies. Dear God, let that be soon...

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