Wait a minute.
Who’s the greater hypocrite?
The denier-now-super-spreader-in-chief who’s just been hoisted on his own poisoned petard?
Or the pious ninny who expresses sympathy for him despite knowing that he willfully, with indifference aforethought, met mask-less with countless innocents and sycophants after his closest aide Hope Hicks began exhibiting symptoms of COVID-19?
I say to the ninnies: Is it piety or cynicism that prompts you to offer up prayers for this monster?
Would you be so charitable towards a homicidal maniac who shoots himself in the foot and a number of his neighbors after blithely flipping off the safety on a hair-trigger semi-automatic?
I say poetic justice is what Trump got. And good riddance if he remains bedridden and off the vector circuit through his well-deserved defeat at the polls.
No, I am not wishing the worst on him. If the god his evangelical followers conjure for themselves wants to give this guy a swift and painless recovery, all power to him or her. It might even teach Trump the virtues of mercy.
But don’t expect hallelujahs from honest souls who are wise enough to know that that what goes around, comes around.