Don’t laugh. UD had the same thought.
Fight Fight Fight is his post-assassination-attempt battle cry, but he won’t debate his opponent, and he didn’t mind all of us seeing how petulantly he refused.
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I’m seeing a pilot entering a death spiral, and instead of relying on his instruments (ie his advisors) he’s going by the seat of his pants.
Trump’s pant seats have served him well, so I get it, but age is kind to no one, and his rear’s gone saggy. Fond foolish old man, he listened to his son on the vp pick and now he’s picking cat hair out of his rear. He thinks insulting women and black people will give us all a pleasant buzz, and instead grating alarms are emanating from 538.
He always knew he was bogus as hell, but huge numbers of Americans didn’t.
UD has no doubt his staff is telling him how to keep the con aloft, but his pants are telling him something else.
Nothing easier than conjuring a life-threatening illness and stepping aside to see what the cat lady guy can do.