For those of us who didn’t fall prey to becoming a member of Cult 45, the past 517 days have still been like a ghastly nightmare, like living with an intense, blaring car alarm right outside your window at night. It might momentarily pause and give you reprieve, only to start back up again the moment you breathed a sigh of relief. And then you might think, “oh well; not my car, not my problem.” But then you remember that regardless of whoever owns the car, the noise can’t be tuned out, and it’s the middle of the night, and a feeling of panic starts to well up inside you.
