Trump has gone from disparaging windmills as nothing but bird-killers

to tilting at them in his quixotic, traitorous, bird-brained, cuckoo coup attempt. Like all his other endeavors, it was a miserable failure.

To revise slightly Orwell's first line in Nineteen Eighty-Four: "It will be a bright cold day in January and the clocks will be striking twelve."* This time, however, the clocks will be marking not the continuation of a decades-long dictatorship, but the end of a four-year attempt to create one.

*Original line: "It was a bright cold day in April and the clocks were striking thirteen."