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Can you feel it, dear reader, the paradoxical sense of relief and excitement cutting through the air?  The spirit of optimism and vigor percolating in the coffee pot of our body politic?  The determination to get it right—and Right—this time?

America is back, baby—and this time, it’s personal.

That’s always been my favorite tagline for cheesy action sequels, but with President Trump’s approaching second term, it’s particularly apt.  Trump II: The MAGAnificent Seven already broke ballot box records.  Trump is back—and, again, this time, it’s personal.

I know, I know—“we should temper our optimism,” I hear the wags—“scala-” and otherwise—clucking.  “Politicians have let us down before.”  In some ways, even Trump let us down before.

But we’re dealing with a man who has transformed, I would argue, fundamentally.  This Trump isn’t the Trump of 2016, surrounding himself with a coterie of sycophants and Washington insiders.  This Trump has survived an assassin’s bullet.  He’s survived political persecution and “criminal” prosecution, often at the hands of the very sycophants who claimed to love him.  Trump is a scorned groom who is about to set his duplicitous lover’s house on fire.

Instead of Washington insiders and Boomer Con darlings (I’m looking at your, John Bolton), Trump’s next administration is going to be the cool table in the cafeteria:  Elon Musk, J.D. Vance, RFK Jr., Vivek Ramaswamy, Joe Rogan, RFK’s cute running mate (Shanahan?), and a whole lot of other hyper-intelligent super geniuses and bros.  We’re about to witness the most masculine presidency since at least Theodore Roosevelt’s.

Buckle up, buttercup—it’s gonna be one wild and fun ride.

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