Multiple Artists/Makers
[Broadside for the Capture of John Wilkes Booth, John Surratt, and David Herold]
(April 20, 1865)

“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice”
Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.

"That overlong Arc of Decency will perhaps this time finally inflict his Comeuppance."

Twenty-one months ago, on the Winter Solstice, anticipating the inauguration of who, I felt certain, would prove to be the worst President in the history of our country and probably in the history of this world, I began writing a series I entitled NextWorld. In it, I reviewed a few of my memories from his forgettable first term and speculated on how those patterns might manifest during his second. He seemed no less malignant than he had been through his first attempt, and I had no good reason to expect he wouldn’t be worse through his second. I needed reminding because I had reset into a contented complacency through Biden’s Presidency. I know that many seemed deeply dissatisfied with Biden’s performance, but their complaints seemed petty to me after observing his predecessor’s turn. I was preparing myself for an eclipse, where a reliable sun would be overshadowed by forces far more malignant than any moon.

I took no pleasure in this exercise. I felt horrified as I reviewed the lowlights of that failed first attempt at failing to administer anything, most prominently himself, for, if anything, he had become even more criminal than he had proven himself to be through his first term. My imagination proved incapable of predicting the depths to which he would drive his perversion, but at least I felt I had prepared myself for the fresh insults. I had just finished my prior series, one I’d entitled Exiled, where I’d recounted The Muse and my experience with bankruptcy and dislocation. Considering this incumbent’s second term felt like revisiting my anticipation of exile back when. I felt overwhelmed by a feared, familiar, impending slow-motion train-wreck sensation. I was writing as a duck-and-cover exercise, knowing full well that nothing I might conjure would do anything to prevent the wreck. I’d ride out the next one, praying for minimal damage but expecting much worse.

Eighteen months ago, on the following Spring Equinox, I finished NextWorld and began a fresh series I entitled CHope, a coined term I intended to combine the emotional content of both coping and hoping. I felt powerless after spending that previous quarter recounting and observing that my best next alternative might lie in hope, though I also felt I might need to add to my already considerable arsenal of coping mechanisms, for the performance before me seemed unrelenting. I survived that coping-hoping quarter to matriculate into what I called FollowingChapters. Finally bored with following current events, I chose to follow myself around for a while, justifying this focus by declaring myself finished as an apprentice and perhaps even prepared to harvest what I’d learned as if I’d actually earned a place in this world. I shifted my focus from the troubling out there toward a potentially more reassuring in here.

Twelve months ago, I finished that quarter of refreshing introspection and began seeking the answer to what certainly seemed then like a timely question: What ever happened to Decency? I then spent a most satisfying quarter exploring Decency’s reported demise only to find that notice premature. I found it enormously reassuring to realize that Decency had not been vanquished or banished, but was just absent from the evening news and even the much-touted 24-hour news cycle. But while Decency didn’t seem to enjoy that much print or broadcast time, I found it alive and well, just temporarily forced off the headlines by stories focusing on certain high crimes and misdemeanors, not to mention the many felonies committed by the idiot who felt he was in charge of more than his remit allowed and utterly incapable of directing the barest pieces of with what he had been charged. My inquiry into Decency refreshed me.

Nine months ago, I switched my series from Decency studies to an extended investigation into the unlikely art of Unscrolling. I worked on my budding social media addiction and probably failed to make much of a dent in it over that following quarter. I learned a lot, though, relearning that it takes more than knowing about to meaningfully change behavior. Six months ago, on the Spring Equinox, I boldly began a series I titled EndDays, for I felt certain that a certain incumbent wouldn’t survive another quarter in office. He was already wearing diapers, and his general incontinence seemed to be expanding to express itself in every facet of his existence. It seemed certain to me that he was barely standing on his last legs. I spent that quarter in death watch mode, a little less certain of his impending demise with each passing story. I survived those EndDays, a little wiser but still not released from the seeming curse of this second incumbency. I left that series severely disappointed, to go on in search of something which, along with Decency, had seemed to recently almost completely disappear: Prosperity. Three months ago, on the most recent Summer Solstice, I set out to find ProsperityLost and recover whatever I found. There, I found my most reassuring series-writing experience yet.

Today, I embark on yet another of my signature misadventures, but instead of trying to recover anything lost in encroaching idiocy, I come to witness. If EndDays, that series I started six months ago, didn’t witness the end of this dis-administration, then I’m thinking the midterms might. As I quoted at the start of this first story in this Comeuppance Series, the arc of our moral universe sure seems lengthy, but I believe it inexorably bends toward Comeuppance, just deserts for the most dedicated wrongdoers. It’s always been a wonder to me how anybody could choose a life of crime. Given the finite nature of every occupation, criminal careers tend to end most grimly. The retirement package sucks. Criminals like Trump seem most likely to end up cowering in some ditch or being fitted into a pair of concrete overshoes. Our incumbent cannot possibly be exempt. He’s proven himself incapable of either learning or contrition. Each crime seems to encourage only more outrageous follow-on. He’s grown beyond our national embarrassment. The arc of Comeuppance seems to have him in his sights. I’m here to serve as a witness to what promises to be a most satisfying slice of history in the making.

I hold no special animosity toward this President. He serves more as a cautionary precedent than anything else. He’s the Don’t Be what is regrettably in charge, fortunately only temporarily. We might be most fortunate to be present, if not necessarily fully accounted for, to witness what promises to be an epic fall. That overlong Arc of Decency will perhaps this time finally inflict his Comeuppance.

©2026 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Comeuppance, #PureSchmaltz