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The Trumps have COVID—and I’m confused

So apparently Donald and Melania Trump have COVID.

And I’m confused.

How am I supposed to feel about this news? Am I supposed to be sad, because Donald Trump is the president and every life is precious? Am I supposed to be happy, because Donald Trump is a sack of shit who treats most people like discarded chips of suitcase bile on the bottom of an airport luggage belt? Am I supposed to take the information at face value, because who would lie of such a thing? Am I supposed to be skeptical, because Donald Trump lies about seemingly everything?

Is it OK that I want to scream to his most devoted COVID-denying admirers, “WELL, NOW DO YOU FUCKING SEE? DO YOU FINALLY FUCKING SEE?” Is it OK that I wouldn’t be shocked were this to be some sort of “Dave”-esque hoax—a way for Trump to leave the election without losing? A way to propel Mike Pence? A way to save face? Is it OK that there’s something oddly satisfying in having the leader of the COVID-is-no-biggie movement come down with the no-biggie disease?

Does it make me a bad person that I would shed nary a tear should Donald Trump die? Which isn’t to say I’m actively rooting for his demise. I’m not. But when someone takes such much pleasure in the misery and destruction of others, well … am I really here to root that guy on?

In short, I don’t know how to feel.

What I do know is, in 2020, there’s something awfully warped about the world; about the nation; about a people no longer able/willing/comfortable bonding over the well wishes for a president.

We are broken.

And sick.

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