Fred Reed brings the snark in his own inimitable fashion.
Once upon a time there was a fairy kingdom that lived inside a place called The Beltway, and was surrounded on all four sides by a land called America. The Beltway was aligned with another kingdom called Manhattan, inhabited by disembodied heads that spoke from the walls of bars, and with with yet another closed kingdom called Hollywood, the abode of half-educated narcissists. These kingdoms were in eternal political syzygy, and spoke not with the people of the surrounding lands, of whom they knew nothing. The following is a chronicle of what befell them, and why.
. . .
Now, until the Trump Monster appeared, the America was ruled by a pseudo-democracy of one bicephalous party with two names. The Only Party consisted of blackguards and Quislings and pickpockets bought and paid for by the plutocratic oligarchy of large corporations, AIPAC, and the. very rich. These told the two halves of the One Party what to do. Every four years there was played a great tournament in which candidates of the Two Names of the One Party engaged in the most savage combat imaginable. This was to distract the people outside the walls . Afterwards nothing changed and all went on as before, though the division of the spoils shifted a bit.
And in their ignorance and pride the Three Kingdoms engendered a monster called Trump, and it bit them.
. . .
One of the Two Names of the One Party, the Democrats, sent forth a dreadful creature called Hillary to fight in single combat with the Trump Monster. Her very visage turned men to stone, it was said. She was held to be of one blood with Boadicea, Jean d’Arc, Lucretia Borgia, and Bonnie Parker.
The Three Kingdoms were at one with her, as she was corrupt, mendacious, criminal, and ugly, as well as suffering coughing fits and dizzy spells. Surely, said the scribes and oracles, any monster must fly screaming from her mere presence.
Yet it seemed that the Trump was no common monster. Every time he was beset by the scribes and oracles of the Beltway, he grew stronger, and a sulfurous smoke breathed from his mouth. With drawn swords the Trump Monster and the crumbling ruin yclept Hillary circled each other.
There's more at the link.
As I've said before, I have no idea whether or not Mr. Trump would make a good President; but he's making a damn fine candidate, IMHO, by scaring the hell out of the establishment. That's a good start! Perhaps he'll yet carve this epitaph of the political class on the walls of the Capitol Building:
'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
I think Jefferson and Jackson would approve.