The Rusted Machines, 33rd Day of Hagwinter, 525 M.E. (Betelgeuse): Shhh. Be very quiet. Actually, let me try that again, but this time in a trembling, Elmer Fudd voice: be vewy, vewy qwiet. 

Do you hear it? That's the sound of MAGA dying. The hateful movement is in its death throes. It's impossible to ignore the advanced dementia of the Stable Genius, once loyal sycophants are now asking "Stable who?," and the inevitable tide of reality is rising against the sand castle of lies and grievance that he's built. The end is near.

That makes these times extraordinarily dangerous. He's liable to lash out to prove his relevance and his potency, and that might take the form of mass arrests, or military occupation of American cities (but this time for real, not just National Guardsmen picking up trash on the National Mall). It might mean court-sanctioned executions of political opponents on the White House lawn. It could even mean a Truman-esque dropping of the big one. Nothing's off limits to an injured ego lashing out - did you ever see the movie Forbidden Planet?