Ugh. You are spot on about Trump. From the ghastly moment he descended that golden escalator, I had a sense of doom creeping into my bones, for I knew that this malignant buffoon was the Devil incarnate—the embodied archetype of all the worst aspects of the American national character—as Hitler was for Germany or Stalin (and now Putin as well) for Russia—and that, like a tornado of pure evil, he could not be stopped. That he had a toxic charisma that would draw all the most gullible and vile people in the nation to him like flies, poisoning their souls with murderous hatred for all who know more than they do. That he is, in short, the embodiment of all our bad karma as a nation coming due—as Marlowe labeled the murderous and unstoppable Tamerlane, “the scourge of God.”