Like, on a smallish container barge registered in Cote D'Ivoire, conveying a six months backlog of cars stolen out of Essex County, New Jersey, for detailing and re-sale way up that lazy river to Asunción? The captain has a comfortable guest cabin, price negotiable, but better bring your own food. The US Intel Community will not find the good doctor down there because they will not bother looking for him. And so, the distinguished American public servant will live out his last days in exile among the swooping fruit bats and grinning crocodiles, to the music of toucans screeching in the silk-floss trees (Chorisa speciosa).

Anyway, that's my fantasy du jour. Walt Disney had it right: America's fate would be a descent into pure fantasy as the final product of our many twentieth century triumphs. It is increasingly difficult, for instance, to sort fact from fantasy in Dr. Fauci's magnum opus: the Covid-19 pandemic, starting from the premise that it actually exists. There was some kind of rumpus in Wuhan, China, in January of 2020… folks dropping dead in their tracks on the sidewalks (captured on closed circuit TVs)… folks getting the doors to their apartments welded shut… and then what?