Pope Donald I

In 1960, when JFK was running for President, a Roman Catholic, was running for President, an uncle of  mine went on a little speaking tour to local Protestant churches, where he'd warn parishioners what was going to happen should the war hero be elected to office: we'd no longer have a President because he would be, of necessity, a pawn of the pope.

I was just a kid, 12 years old. I remember hearing him hold forth in our church brandishing a fervent warning about our democracy descending into chaos at the hands of a man sworn in allegiance to the papacy. I remember thinking my uncle's appraisal was whacky, that he was overreacting in some way. He wasn't an embarrassment to me because by my assessment  most people in our church believed he was right even before they heard his arguments. Voting for the Massachusetts senator was like voting to turn America Roman Catholic: Rome would be calling the shots.

JFK won, and an assassin's bullet took him out of the office just two years later. My uncle, like his crusade, went off-line. 

Things have changed. Today, it's not the Pope looking to undercut the American spirit, it's a man with strange hair and a huge personality, a man who rarely sleeps, it seems, who is seemingly incapable of tempering his bravado about himself. Now, somewhere in his own Magic Kingdom,  he's got his own statue up for genuflection.  Here 'tis, a masterpiece.

Surprise!!!  Trump loves it. 

Pope Leo doesn't.

So Trump disparages Pope Leo. 

My uncle is long gone, unavailable for reference in this case.

Barring some mad quest to stay in office--with Donald, all things are possible--we're almost finished with the Orange man's madness. His time is short.

Which is why he seems devoted to finding ways to make his reign eternal, like a golden monument.

Well, some like my uncle might say, at least he's not Catholic. 

Very, very sad.