As the days grow shorter, and night approaches earlier each day heading into the winter solstice, so to does the misbegotten reign of the Emperor come to evening twilight.
But the acting is not yet over at the E Street Theater.
Despite direction from the White House to assist and ease the transition for the Changelings, so that some outgoing positive legacy might be left behind, the Emperor continues on his own selfish path. The Playbill has been handed out to all of the minions, instructing them to turn away from the light and not cooperate with those who might bring an end to the chaos. All of the supporting cast of contractors have likewise been warned to keep data and opinions to themselves. It is a classless finish to a empty script. Such agression may perhaps be borderline illegal, like steroids, but fortunately, none who matter are paying heed to such malapropisms.
And, not that anyone's asking, but even now the man without cloth can not pass up a good opportunity to exit the stage with class. To stay in the press, the Emperor is starting to fabricate nonexistent issues, such as being forced to accept politically appointed staff, as if he might be asked to stay on (he won't) under unacceptable circumstances. Not that he hasn't already had to do that anyway.
It is time to find the hook. Bring down the curtain. Turn out the lights. Enough of our wages have been wasted going down this blind alley to watch this play without redemption. Time is up for this talentless cast of future waiters, waitresses, and bookworms. They have performed badly and the reviews are in.
This show must not go on.