The Russian nuclear submarine, 'Kursk' while submerged, suffered a catastrophic explosion of a torpedo, which set off sympathetic detonations of adjacent weapons. Her entire bow was blown apart, and she flooded and sank in a matter of seconds. Crew in the forward section of the ship were pulverized by the explosion, fire and enormous water pressure as the boat was driven forward and down, at 30 knots by her nuclear reactors.
A bulkhead held and some men survived the disaster in the after part of the ship . . . for days and days and days, until their oxygen ran out. They were trapped on the bottom, in the dark, and utterly helpless. They prayed for help. And help never came.
To me, 'Kursk' is a metaphor for America . . . the explosion has happened, the flooding is happening, and we can only wait for the impact as our big ship smacks into the muddy bottom, there to begin a long, terrible vigil that never ends. All that was, is no more and will never be again.
There were a few who knew the dangers inherent in those particular torpedoes. They were ignored, just as the few here in America sounding the alarm, of our imminent, disaster are ignored.
Like you, I pray that Trump might be The Guy . . . but so many entrenched mandarins are dead set against losing their rice bowls, I fear an assassination. Multiple assassinations, in fact. Caesar had his Brutus.