Donald Trump is a steaming pile of human shit, and everything that he touches turns to shit.

In the United States, a contaminated location is designated a Superfund site when it is managed under the EPA’s federal Superfund program.

When Trump’s fascist regime finally ends and he exits the White House, the new presidential tenant should order the EPA to condemn the People’s House as a Superfund site.

In Dante Alighieri’s Inferno, the lowest level of hell is the ninth circle, which is a frozen lake called Cocytus reserved for those who committed treachery and betrayal. The lowest level of depravity in the White House is the treasonous octogenarian’s bedroom.

Trump’s bedroom is such a den of iniquity that Melania refuses to enter and instead keeps a separate room. The incontinent octogenarian leaves his sheets soaked with urine and smeared with feces, while his pillow collects orange tanning residue, mucus, and dandruff—conditions so foul that no self-respecting bedbug would venture inside.

Trump has a penchant for eating in bed, imagine Cheetos’ crumbs, ketchup stains, and hamburger grease added to the toxic mix of his bodily fluids.

I would rather share a cell in prison with a gay serial killer than spend a night in Trump’s White House.