I woke myself up from a nightmare last night. I was in Washington and walking at night toward the White House when lights flashed and I saw the statues on the lawn, lit up in a golden light. When I put on my distance vision glasses I saw these huge stone pieces and all of them were of Donald Trump. In one he was swinging a golf club, in another dressed in a gaudy military uniform and saluting toward another statue of himself. this one was dressed in a tuxedo. There were more but the lights began a pulsating motion and I was afraid I might have a seizure.

Luckily, I woke myself up, heart racing and thoughts tumbling around in my brain. I was afraid, very afraid, of what I might see inside the White House.

I think I have an idea, though. Some weeks ago, I was reading People magazine when an article with pictures  appeared about The Donald and his Manhattan residence. It looked as though Michael Jackson and Liberace were the inspiration or maybe the decorators.

Shouldn’t there be a limit on bling, glitz and bad taste for any occupant of the White House?