Trump must be arrested at 12:01PM on January 20th. He must be charged with sedition, treason, murder, genocide-- take your pick. He must be jailed without bail. If he has pardoned himself then the Justice Department must challenge and overturn his pardon, but he must not be released during the challenge! After he is convicted, he must be sent to Pelican Bay, if it still exists, or that Colorado supermax prison where they keep the Unabomber and other miscreants. He must be kept in solitary confinement with NO access to TV, radio, the internet-- and no human contact. He can have a book-- the Bible. Preferably the one he held upside down after gassing the BLM protesters. His meals should be delivered through a slot in his steel, windowless door. The lights should be on 24/7. He can be frog-marched in chains for a shower once a week. Oh-- and he should have to wear one of those suicide-watch smocks like the one they made Chelsea Manning wear and have no sheets so he can't fashion a noose. In case you think this is harsh, it is the treatment our government has in store for Julian Assange... which is why the UK refused to extradite him.
While Trump is in cold storage, his vile family can keep busy trying not to lose whatever is left of the Trump assets. In New York, Cy Vance and Letitia James are looking to get back all the taxes the Trumps cheated New York out of over many decades, including millions in inheritance taxes. While it may be too late to prosecute the tax crimes, it's not too late to claw back the money, including millions in fines. And forget selling condos-- the NDAA has a new rule buried in its fine print-- no more anonymous LLCs. There goes the whole Trump real estate game which makes it impossible to raise that $400 million that Trump owes to some unknown murderous Russian oligarch! Meanwhile Melania can keep busy looking for a place to live. She's persona-non-grata in West Palm where the neighbors have filed suit to stop her from moving to Mar-a-Lago. In New York she won't be able to step outside her gilded penthouse-- if she is even allowed to keep it. Methinks it's time for her to take her son and parents and whatever cash she can get her hands on and hightail it back to Slovenia! Ivanka at least had the brains to marry a rich guy-- she even converted to Judaism for him... so you know that it's real money! The slumlord game will always be with us so forget that Chinese grift and go with the family business you both know-- how to overcharge renters while providing uninhabitable housing. Lucky the Qataris refinanced that loser at 666 Fifth Avenue before the pandemic hit and Manhattan commercial real estate became worthless!
So good-bye and good riddance, Trumps. Don't let the door hit you in the butt on your way out!!!
And now British author Hari Kunzru:
"Mike Pence, you repressed joyless would-be witchfinder, every time you spoke you always looked like you were straining to expel an enormous bolus of your own hypocrisy from your clenched sphincter.
"Betsy DeVos, you blandly foolish soulless entitled child-stealing witch, rotting like a corpse inside your Chanel suit.
"Kayleigh McEnenay, you evacuated husk of a mean-girl cheerleader, the cavity where your heart once was pumped full of spite and moronic lies.
"Bill Barr, you vast pompous pus-filled bladder of casuistry, you are an enemy of justice, bloated with resentment and cruelty, wobbling like a jelly at the feet of the oligarchs.
"Jared Kushner, you vacuous dainty preening overpromoted nub of mediocrity, squeezed like an entitled smear of toothpaste into a silk suit bought with tear-stained dollars wrung out of the suffering tenants of your slum apartments.
“Ivanka Trump, you monstrous slug of vanity, you infantile ninny so marinaded in self-regard that in your pea brain you believe we ought to love you for your crimes.
“Mike Pompeo, you bubble, you booby, you flatulent zero, that roiling in your ample guts that you mistake for world shaking significance is just the acid reflux of irrelevancy.
“Don Junior, you scabrous single-nostriled unloved elephant-murdering human wreckage, vibrating with bitterness and impotent rage at all the opportunities you’ve squandered.
“Interlude: all you staffers and interns, so eager to crunch your way in your shiny new work shoes over the bodies of the poor and powerless, I smite you and cast you out one by one.
"Eric Trump, you pallid clammy suppurating nocturnal semi-human grub, your absence of charisma is your only notable trait and the act of flushing you from memory will so be smooth and painless that in a month people will find it hard to picture your moon face.
"Rudy Giuliani, you capering cartoonish skull-faced bag of graft and corruption, too stupid even to ask who’s pulling your strings just so long as you can cake your crusty face in tv make-up and clack your jaw at a camera.
"And of course, Stephen Miller, you weeping pustule upon the social body, you dreg, you homunculus, you noxious slime felched from the gaping cavity of Jim Crow, one day may you find yourself walking barefoot across hot sand, desperate for water, crying for your missing child.
"With that I'll rest a while, and go to find a street corner to dance on."