I would never attend a Trump political rally or campaign event; I would rather be on a line for a proctological exam than be on a meet-and-greet line for the fascist monster. The likelihood of ever meeting him is nonexistent, but late at night when I am tossing and turning, I sometimes wonder if I would survive a close encounter with the pedophile-in-chief.

I like to look a person straight in the eyes, but the prospect of staring into the soulless raccoon eyes of the sociopath makes my skin crawl. Friedrich Nietzsche is well known for his assertion: “If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.”  What alien thoughts would infect my consciousness if I looked into the eyes of a man without empathy?

If I avoided locking eyes with him and instead gazed at his hair, would that be any better? Being only inches away from his grotesque toupee that looks like cotton candy soaked in the urine of Russian escorts would cause me to lose my lunch.

If I focus on his mouth that resembles a sphincter, the price I would pay would be life-long therapy.

If I avoid his countenance altogether and glimpse at his neck, I would be confronted with an abomination that looks like a prolapsed vagina. Ogling a naked vagina is every heterosexual male’s fantasy, but when it is on the neck of a senile pedophile, it is every male’s nightmare.

I have survived many horrible experiences but thank God I have never endured the soul-quenching ordeal of meeting Trump face-to-face.