This is the way the world ends

Next month, if I am still breathing, I will have to find the cash to pay my taxes on last year's capital gains, which have been completely erased. Like so many people, I've lost every penny of wealth I gained since Trump became president and then some. But--and everyone but Trump seems to get this--I am less freaked out about the economic devastation than the terrible toll in human lives that is coming. Trump has made everything about himself. And now his name is stamped on the Apocalypse.The liquor store had a sign up yesterday that they weren't accepting cash, due to the danger of corona virus transmission. The guy that ran the credit card machine, which hundreds of customers, including me, were touching with their germy fingers, was wearing latex gloves. "Have a nice day," he said.The mood is like it was at the end of the movie Failsafe, which made an indelible impression on me as a little kid--the die has been cast; the world as we knew it is finished, though all the buildings and people are still intact.If I were writing a novel about the rise and fall of Donald Trump, I might end it here. No need to show him flailing for months and months, preening and striking bold poses for his dwindling base, striking out at his enemies, or even more likely, getting sick and dying offstage as the tsunami finally rolls ashore.