J'Accuse!

I am 82 years old. I have COPD and I have had pneumonia five or six times. If I get the coronavirus, chances are I'm dead meat.

Just in case that happens, I want to accuse Donald Trump of my murder. The evidence is a matter of public record, much of it actually on television, Trump's chosen medium – so far.

Trump put us behind the virus eight-ball from the jump, setting the stage for my potential demise by fucking around for two weeks with talk of  “hoax” and a “miraculous” disappearance while coronavirus got a running headstart on what has turned out to be the overmatched because underprepared health system. To date, testing is a joke. South Korea tests 10,000 or 12,000 people a day with a vastly less sophisticated system; we have tested less than a thousand – total. Trump said on TV anybody who wanted to be tested  – no problem. Problem is no tests. J'Accuse, baby!

  

There is every possibility that medical personnel at some point might have to decide who lives and who dies because the system won't be able to handle the massive numbers. I'm 82 – hmmm. J'Accuse!

Trump long ago disbanded the pandemic response office because in his piggy heart it was an Obama creation. So if I die because he is a petty asshole without a scintilla of human empathy, ring this up as evidence, too. I double J'Accuse!

                                                 

Trump put a modern day Cotton Mather in charge of fighting the coronavirus. Mike Pence is a religious fanatic who distrusts science as much as he mistrusts his own puny libido – right, mother? He is so fucking lost he   actually held a prayer meeting to fight the virus. I guess they were waiting for Trump's miracle.  Pence is almost beneath it, but, again, J'Accuse!

Pence leads these jive press conferences where bona fide experts have to verbally kiss Trump's ass before they can speak their pieces. And in true fact most of their comments directly contradict Trump's delusions.

The same time Trump was talking bout miracles – during that crucial, critical two-weeks of wheel-spinning, Trump actually said there was a chance that the number of cases would go to zero when it got warmer. He said that was his hunch. This asshole was making like Inspector Clouseau with his hunch. Donald Trump is going to cost this country untold lives, maybe mine. J'Accuse!

Does Trump care about my life? He cares about his golf score much more. But what he really cares about is the stock market and the one percent. While nobody is getting tested, there he is with the airline and cruise ship and hotel guys and especially the fossil fuel guys trying to salvage their sorry asses during the pandemic. He actually wanted to keep a cruise ship full of people off the California coast because he didn't want their infected passengers to tilt his “beautiful” response numbers. J'Accuse!

Maybe the clincher was when he modestly admitted that even the doctors were amazed with his deep medical knowledge and that maybe he should have become a doctor.

You can cheat at golf. You can't cheat at medicine. We're going to find that out in a deep and painful national way. And if I don't make it through this crucible – Donald Trump, J'Accuse!