In To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee’s lead protagonist, Scout, is forced to spend Christmas day with her spoiled, snotty, cravenly racist cousin Francis. Spending time with Francis, according to Scout, “gave me the sensation of settling slowly to the bottom of the ocean.”

For many millions of people, the ceaseless vicissitudes of the Donald Trump experience, the serial humiliations, degradations and compounded outrages, leave us baffled in our efforts to simply get through the day. Trump is our collective Cousin Francis, and we are all sinking slowly.

The policy bowl of rancid jellybeans was overflowing again this past week, but one cluster of events stood out in stark relief. On Tuesday, Trump winged his way to a big-dollar fundraiser in the tech-heavy San Francisco Bay area. He is so popular in California that the location had to be couched in secrecy; it was as if a bunch of comic book villains planned a get-together somewhere Batman couldn’t find them.

“Donors invited to the event — whose tickets cost up to $100,000 per couple — were told only to arrive at a parking place where they would be transported to the event, without any advance notice of where it was or who was hosting it,” reported The Wall Street Journal. Ibid. re: simultaneously astonishing and not at all surprising.

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