Okay. I’m not going to gloat. Gloating’s not a good look.

(Note the rhyme and reason between gloat and bloat; the nuance, if you will. Take note of it, if you can.)

Or don’t.

Either way, I’m moving on.

I ain't sayin' you treated me unkind
You could have done better but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's all right --Bob Dylan

Of course it’s easy for me to quote Bob Dylan. I haven’t lost anybody to Covid-19.

With the help of the good Lord and the strong business acumen of my husband, we have weathered 2020 pretty well, but that doesn’t mean we won’t reap the whirlwind that is to come. Or that we will reap it, for that matter.

That’s Que Sera, Sera, and it falls within the realm of providence, whether by chance or by God, or some combination of the two…

If I had a chance to counsel President Trump right now, I would tell him he still has a chance to leave with dignity.

I would tell him that he can have his cake, i.e., dignity and–by all means--he can eat it it. Absolutely, he can. And he can have just about any kind of cake he wants…

Except a second term as president cake. He can’t have that.

I would put it to the President like that if I could. And he might listen…I’m sure he likes cake…and I would add this:

You could potentially spark a Second Civil War, Mr. President. You could. Your base loves you that much. They’d do anything you tell them to. They adore you.

But you won’t do that, Mr. President. No. You won’t spark a Second Civil War. Because you love this country too much.

And because you love this country so much, you are going to live to fight another day. You are going to build another massive empire. A broadcasting empire. And that’s where you are going to wage war. For now.

Come 2024, all bets are off...

Now pack your bags and leave like a gentleman. Or don’t.

Either way, you’ll leave.