This morning's infuriating story is the revelation that Donald Trump was much sicker from COVID-19 than the White House admitted. This idiot vacillated between calling the pandemic a hoax and stating that the SARS-CoV-2 virus was no more dangerous than a typical flu.
Trump was given a cocktail of experimental drugs, consisting of SARS-CoV-2 antibodies (antibody therapy was the topic of a Secret Science Club lecture last year) and steroids, to help his unlovely corpus fight off the disease. Six hundred thousand dead Americans never received the benefit of these therapies.
The enraging thing about this story is that Trump's life-or-death struggle against COVID-19 did nothing to change his response to the pandemic. Not even his near-death experience, or the death of his supposed friend Herman Cain, for that matter, would change his irresponsible pandemic response, his dismissal of the virus as a deadly pathogen, his disdain for the wearing of masks, his championing of dangerous quack 'remedies'. Hell, he never even slowed the pace of scheduling superspreader events. The assertion that the presidential succession was in disarray is, to me, merely a disquieting footnote to the anger I feel at Trump's endangering of the public.
Extraordinary measures were taken a man whose inaction and duplicity resulted in the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Americans. Trump, a foolish man, gained no wisdom from his brush with death, he never even acknowledged that fact that only cutting-edge medicine, paid for from the public coffers, kept him on Earth's topside (even going so far as claiming that his good genes protected himself from the virus). It was a heroic effort to save a villain.