I am in a deep blue small town in a deep blue state, here on the West Coast.

The natives are jubilant today.

"Happy Indictment Day!" shouted the neighbor of my host, as my host and I sat out on a balcony. The neighbor was emerging from a car, three stories below us. The building must have contained thirty apartments. The man was certain that everyone who was in earshot of his joyous shout, agreed with his sentiments.

He witnessed my silence. "Don't you agree?" he goaded me, a near-stranger, still shouting. "Don't you?"

Finally I responded, "I am not sure that this sets a great precedent. Every sitting President in the future will try to indict his or her political opponent." He cut off the discussion — a reaction, from the Left, to which I am getting accustomed — and headed inside.

Earlier, at lunch, an otherwise lovely lady had celebrated the possible-near-incarceration of "that criminal." Again, she assumed that everyone present shared her view of the events of the day.

I am experiencing considerable inner turmoil at the spectacle of President Trump's indictment, as well as at the almost animalistic glee that this spectacle has triggered in the solid bloc of Democrats that currently surrounds me.

I am extraordinarily sad — at the thickheaded ignorance of history that those who are celebrating tonight, reveal; and at what has become of our country.

Don't people understand — much as they may hate this fellow — that this is exactly what coup leaders in every banana republic, do? Seek to imprison their political opponents?