It's taken us all longer that it should have to arrive at the obvious: Trump was never running, Trump never wanted the job, and we've all been conned in a fashion no one ever thought possible.
It would be like learning the whole point of NASA's moon missions was to test out if the place really was made of cheese, and, if so, to keep it from the Russians, at least until we had global dairy prices locked down.
Only a green-cheese maniac would think of using the American presidential race as a con game and a self-promotion tour -- and so, a maniac did. And has. We've all been had.
Look at the wreckage, all the carnage, the shredded landscape -- and that's just around each of the new, daily-dozen of the dim-witted, ham-handed, face-palmed Trumping pronouncements. Smoldering craters, everywhere.
Back at the beginning, what did we know, we electoral chumps? We rode the primary Tilt-o-Whirl, like good little citizens, playing the Important Adult Business game, not realizing we were being played at the deepest possible levels. We were playing Crazy Eights -- or Tipsy Twenty-Twos, whatever, based on your candidate count -- with the Berserk Chimp Gang, just as they wanted, sure.
Only thing was, the rest of the Chimp Gang was rifling through our cars in the parking lots, and our homes, and our bank accounts, while we were wondering why The Big Player was stalling. (After all, even for Trump, how tough is it to answer the question, "Got any fours?")