Let’s be fair, the BC-in-C is doing a great job! We should applaud him — although we, over here in the slowly drowning but still rather cute little K. of the B.O. do not particularly like the new applause machine of Medium- for solving so many serious policy problems.

This time he is preventing a grave problem for generations coming: what statues have to prevail? (I love that word, graciously given to us by W.). There will be no statues for all the president’s men and women of 2016–2017, because they all were sacked before rising to the hall of fame of public servants. They do not have to be subject of a ridiculous struggle about their existence.

I am afraid there will be a statue for the obtuse (another word I recently learned, thanks to Melissa McEwan) Hyperliar. He will inaugurate it himself, it will be all gold and glitter, erected somewhere in one of his golf resorts outside the USA. Probably on a not so cute little island in a Russian lake. If I were a New Yorker, I would fight for an executive order prohibiting any monument referring to our anti-hero, especially on private property. Bye bye Trump Tower.

Friend of life and beauty and foe of spoilers of life and beauty. Golden marriage. Grandfather. Pianist and micro poet. Dutch, European.

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