Trump is a self-renewing mind fuck, soul fuck, spirit fuck, hope fuck, sanity fuck. Struggling to put him from our minds is a mark of sanity, but it is nearly impossible to achieve. We know this oaf and his idiosyncracies, his stunningly inappropriate responses to people and things, his crassness, and quirks, his gestures, the way he walks, the rhythms of his disjointed sentences, his very essence. We know the small details of his personality as well or better than we do the people who are closest to us. We can finish his sentences for him.

Because the toxicity of Trump has become so ubiquitous, so engrained, so embedded–rather like a virus–we can barely begin to imagine what it is to live in a world unsullied by the poison. But if you saw or heard Queen Elizabeth’s address to the people of Great Britain yesterday, then you might have been reminded of what is missing here in the United States as we struggle to deal–collectively or personally–with this unfolding viral disaster. Trump sours us, divides us, makes us forget any sense of this country that could give us pride in ourselves, that could buck us up. So we endure the virus while also enduring him.

via A Day Without Donald | The Smirking Chimp