Here’s what we know: Natalie Wood, then 16, was brutally raped in late 1954 or early 1955.

Here’s what we don’t: The rapist was Kirk Douglas.

The subject came up following his death last Wednesday at age 103, as it did following a Golden Globes appearance two years ago, and as it will Sunday night at the Oscars, following his last-minute inclusion in the Death Montage.

And really, it’s not an unreasonable suspicion. But the certainty with which it’s expressed goes beyond any fact we can nail down. As does the certainty surrounding much of the discussion about it.

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In an apparent terminal mental melt-down, big fat Kremlin call girl Donald Trump has taken to making up his face with a can of construction marker paint and combing his hair with furniture lacquer.

Trump, deeply drugged, walks in slow motion around the White House babbling threats to avenge slights against his royal prerogative to destroy the universe by a growing list of perpetrators that include the parking attendant at the Russell office building that houses the Senate staff and his fourth grade English teacher.

The White House staff have taken to carrying walkie talkies to warn each other of Trump’s movements to avoid encountering him and having to receive his orders to behead someone or to bear his child.

Chief of Staff Mick Mulvaney calls these days the ‘Moe! Larry! Cheese! phase’ of the Trump Administration and spends inordinate amounts of time trying to convince staffers to carry their tassels with them at all times.

CUNT IN CHIEF TRUMP GOES SPASTIC BECAUSE HE IS ORGANICALLY INSANE – COMPLETELY MOE LARRY CHEESE! THE ROYAL IMBECILE DOESN’T HAVE LONG TO GO!

The creepiness of the President of the United States making a complete village-idiot fool of himself is in no way assuaged by the delicious schadenfreude of watching the most vile, repulsive piece of shit in the entire fucking universe melt down into drooling, plotching dementia but I’ll take it.

The Miami Herald reported yesterday: “During the national anthem at his own Super Bowl watch party Sunday night, a brief video posted to Instagram shows Trump greeting guests, adjusting his chair, and straightening his suit jacket as other attendees — including first lady Melania Trump and their teenage son — stand with their hands over their hearts. As “The Star Spangled Banner” crescendoes, Trump raises both of his hands in the air, and twirls them around as if conducting the music.

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When you’re a President, they let you do it.

They let you lie.

And lie.

And lie.

They broadcast your lies, no matter how bald, with the weakest of clarifications.

They never call them lies.

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Post-Unpeachment, it is clear that the RULE! OF! LAW! is a an antiquated relic that has no business in AMERICA!, the land where raw power and access to capital matters and principles that can’t pay for themselves walk and take a ticket and wait to be raped, murdered and eaten alive like all the rest of the losers.

HA! HAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STUPID! FUCKING! CUNTS! Did you really think you had what it takes to stay the MARCH! OF THE EVIL ONE! from ULTIMATE TRIUMPH! over your precious, irrelevant and fantastic little ideals? America, the beautiful! And Justice for all. HA! HAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

SUCK! SATAN!’S COCK!, AMERICA! You’re just another nation of random perfidy like everyone else! HA! HAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

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World War II — the American part of it — lasted less than four years.

It must have seemed like forever.

Time does that. We can measure time — by day, by year, by atomic second — but the experience of time is not the duration of time. If we’re having a good time, time flies, we don’t know where the time went. If we’re miserable, well…

It’s been a long time since November 2016. Less than four years.

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So, what’s the point?

We know how the Senate trial’s gonna end — we’ve always known how it would end — and while there may be a few twists along the way, the conclusion is not in doubt.

So why bother? What’s the point?

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