Smash the people's house, Donald.

Grab $230 million from your hand-picked flunkies at DOJ.

Tear it all down.

Defile our democratic institutions with your thieving cult of personality.

Bulldoze the rule of law.

Gild your goblet and your toilet.

Gorge yourself, Donald.

Wear a crown, and take a shit on the rest of us.

Your depraved ilk has staged quite a comeback since 1945. You've brought fascism all the way to the home shores now.

You have set our health and our wealth and our happiness back decades, while a cowed Republican majority stands silent, and embarrassing muppets like Lurker Mom and Dope cheer you on.

But history has this funny way of taking notes.

Your story is going to end the same way it did last time, Mr. President, in the dustbin.

The gray team does not win.

The tide is already turning. Can you feel it?

The times are changing, but they're not changing back.

You will be remembered as nothing more than a bloated troll, a septic cocktail distilled from the worst instincts of just enough of your fellow-citizens, a malignant tub of greed and spite and ashes.

And tomorrow, when the sun rises again, America will sweep up the rubble of your empty era, and move on.