The cult of the right hand, en masse.

The cult of the right hand, en masse.

They must have cast iron stomachs, because all the cool aid was drunk during the last version of this shit show, and there's no more left. They may have moved on to other means of dispatch to prove their devotion to their cult leader, and yet they seem to be immune to that as well. 

I'm beginning to think they didn't actually drink the cool aide at all but rather dumped it out when no one was looking. And whatever new suicidal means of proof of loyalty is being used (perhaps a hidden capsule in the mouth) they have found a way to spit that out when no one's looking as well.

So, the old king has no clothes on, and they cheer him still. 

How anyone could be so "accidentally " stupid as to not understand what a tariff is and how it "always" works and then proceed, after warnings, to destroy the U.S. and the World economies . . . that takes a very special kind of stupid, maybe the most special in the history of presidents, to go forward into heavy weather while ignoring all the weather reporters and meteorologists. Then getting sucked up into a tornado, spit back down in a different state, and then everyone who has plainly seen this superhero level stupidity just ignores it, and, like the followers of Tommy in the titular rock opera; 

"Welcome to the camp
I guess you all know why we're here
My name is Tommy and I became aware this year
If you want to follow me
You've got to play pinball
And put in your earplugs
Put on your eye shades
You know where to put the cork"

But there's never a moment where the cult of the orange man comes to their senses and yells [or sings] 

"We're not gonna take it, never did and never will.
Don't want no religion, as far as we can tell. 

We ain't gonna take you, never did and never will.
We're not gonna take you, we forsake you, 

gonna rape you,
Let's forget you better still."
(not so sure about the "rape you" part, kind of out of place.)

As I said, they never sing that part. 

They never reach that level of intellect and understanding. 

They're all too happy to oblige the jester king.

That part's only sung by the left hand. The hand that actually knows what the right hand is doing.

Every dog will have its day, but its 15 minutes of fame has been stretched out to years of pure unbridled evil.