Just deserts

Justice is mockery, parody. History tells but its own self-congratulatory truth. Shame for the shameless is futile. What, then? How may Trump realise the rage of right, the fury of the sensible, the retribution of all humanity, heaven, and earth? Curses, accompanied by spit in the face, knees to the balls? Those but pinch, those but sting.  What, then? Damning to hell? Mere folly. If hell is but that place where truth is forbidden, he is its patron, its harlequin.  Still pondering? What do his fellow fascists do with those who offend? Forced confession of perceived infringement as prelude, then torture, then death.  Devoid of honour, unworthy of his office, the most abhorrent of criminals, why does the charade continue? Give him what he deserves, without remission, without sympathy, without remorse. Take no prisoners.