With no hand at all, bluffs The Don. His political instincts, perfect. The proof’s in his election. Betting on a base, base. An al-Qaeda of nationalism,

white. A crisis, constitutional. Don, with Dick, contrast. Dick resigned. Don’s betting, on narcissism.

Don’s betting on himself. Again. Against every American farmer, homeowner and dreaming, renter. With no hand at all, bluffs The Don. Political

instincts imperfect tell him the GOP hasn’t the backbone, to stand up to him. And so, a power play … political.

Unarmed, bluffs, The Don. Instincts telling him, time’s on his side. Conservative Supreme rulings favorable to him, everything, change.

Everything, then, changes. Coal. Oil. Gas. Petrochemical, fossil fuels. Mine them. Don’t mind, mild, climate … change!

Seven lies. In but a tweet. In soirée on Luna last night, Don said, “Coal. Oil. Gas. God wants US to mine them. Before anyone. Superior are white men.

Like US; when I’m done, rearranging US. God favors white me. Like me. And The Almighty, Creator … Him.”

“God favors white men,” The Don continued. “Everybody knows that. God favors, even more, Christian, white men. If ye are an American, then verily,

thricely, ye are blessed. Like me. And The Creator, Him. Ye didn’t know that … God is an American, did ye?”