One of the weirdest things about the ongoing commedia dell'arte performance that is the Donald Trump campaign for president, is that he's spent all of his time in recent weeks indulging in conspiratorial nonsense instead of working on an affirmative case for his presidency or a "Trump vision for America." The best that any of has to go on is that he will make people "respect" us again and he will swindle world dictators on tent leases.
By putting forth no ideas for the political media to talk about and insisting on promulgating long-debunked conspiracy theories, Trump is all but goading the press to engage in the most painful vetting process imaginable. What if it turns out, say, that he didn't actually send investigators to Hawaii, as he claimed? What if someone wants a specific answer to the question of where he keeps all the Bibles he says are sent to him, beyond "at a certain place"? And what happens when reporters start doing in-depth examinations of his financials?
Actually, as it turns out, Trump claims he's pumped for that part of the vetting process.
"I look very much forward to showing my financials, because they are huge," Trump says of the disclosures he would make if he launched a campaign. "Far bigger than anyone knows. Far bigger than anyone would understand."
That's right! Even if you had 100 skilled reporters using the classiest computers available, they would have no chance of even beginning to penetrate the all-encompassing mystery of Donald Trump's financial disclosures. To stare directly at Donald Trump's financials with the naked eye is to see the face of God Himself, a baleful light that illuminates all that ever was and all that ever will be and that simultaneously scorches our corporal body to cinders even as it fills our soul with the ecstasy of the celestium.