As Donald Trump grows older and closer to death, the ugliness inside of him is mirrored more and more by his increasing physical ugliness. Many people grow old with grace; not Donald Trump. As he vainly beclowns himself with his orange makeup and bouffant combover, he seems oblivious to how ridiculous he looks.  As his fat, glowering face droops and sags, he comes increasingly to resemble, not a man, but some giant orange toad-like creature. His inner inhumanity seems increasingly to manifest itself in his outward transformation into something that appears, not human, but reptile or amphibian. By all accounts, he exudes a stench that is hard to be around — a further outward manifestation, that will only worsen, of the utter foulness within him. A younger Donald Trump was able to hide his foulness and ugliness and inhumanity beneath a smooth, polished external appearance. Now, however, as he grows older and closer to death, he comes increasingly to resemble the monster he actually is.

In all likelihood even his wife and children — members of a sociopathic family who are incapable of normal human emotion, and for whom all relationships are strictly transactional — secretly look forward to being rid of him. After all, Daddy’s money will be even better without Daddy clinging to it. Trump’s supporters, cronies, and stooges claim to love and admire him, but in reality he is nothing more than a vehicle for their own petty grievances, hate, and corruption; and once he is gone — if not before — they will quickly move on.

We all sympathize with the good people in our lives — parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts — as they grow older and closer to death. We treasure each moment with them, and try to make the end of life as happy and comfortable for them as we can. No such sympathy is possible, however, for so vile a creature as Donald Trump. No sympathy, as his brain increasingly turns into mush and his speech increasingly turns into gibberish. No sympathy, as he approaches the end of life angry and unhappy and unloved, even by his own family. No sympathy, as his face droops and sags. No sympathy, as he falls asleep in televised meetings at the White House. No sympathy, as he loses control of his bowels. No sympathy, as each day becomes more miserable than the day before. No sympathy, as Death comes for the most despised man in America.

Then one fine day we will open the news and learn that he is finally gone, forever. One fine day, we can begin life anew in a world without Donald Trump. One fine day, Donald Trump will get the end of life that he deserves, and will then take the place of abject disgrace in history that he deserves.