Trump is dead. He is the walking dead. He is a Zombie President. He doesn't know it. His followers don't know it either. Of course they don't. They are the brain-dead hordes. The brain-dead leader struts around and his brain-dead followers follow.
You almost think they are alive. But no, they are dead. For sure. They are just pure appetite. Voracious. Disgusting. Dripping with death. Rotting. From the inside out. Makes a sentient, sane person want to gag. Yuck!
It is inertia that carries them forward. Primeval impulse. Hungry. Greedy. Motor-skills intact, body supporting a hollowed out husk of a frontal cortex. Darkness, ugliness permeates every cell. Cells rotting, disintegrating, liquifying.
This Zombie President and his Zombie Hordes are living on fumes. Putrid, rancid, fumes. They won't last. They are dead already. The undead, slow walking to a certain oblivion. One day soon this horror will end.
