Talk’st thou to me of ‘ifs’? Thou art a traitor

Off with his head!

Richard III, Act 3, Scene 4, Shakespeare

Monday, living the furlough life and finally seeing a hammer hitting the cookie jar hard enough to break it.  SFB must be wondering why his self-created universe is bouncing so hard the brown sky is falling on him.

We are seeing the third act start as the curtain rises.  No longer are we needing to hear from minor actors in the wings yelling “this will bring him down”.  We are now watching as the lights come up on the tableau built on lies and Putin’s agents works.  We can see shiny objects, but those no longer are blinding us, usually for a few seconds, somethings a few minutes, but no more.

The characters on stage now are the comedic and tragic figures, many unwitting agents, a few deliberate in their actions, all involved in treasonous arcs pointing to Russia as their love.  America is melting into a puddle on the stage.  Rubles are raining from above and mysteriously falling as dollars into the agents pockets.

The third act brings us great anticipation.  We do not know if there will be a rousing chorus of wonder as America rises in the end and the Russian agents are rounded up and placed in prison, or if there will be the ugly death knell of a former great country torn apart.