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We’re all getting contact insanity from proximity to this violent, kleptocratic Administration.

There is no way for otherwise mentally well, emotionally stable human beings to exist in this kind of prolonged lunacy and extended predation without being internally altered, without losing some sense of normalcy, without developing a persistent PTSD that will likely never leave.

It’s understandable. We are all sharing our home with an unhinged cadre of miserable doomsday cult squatters who will not rest until everyone around them is as nihilistic and devoid of joy as they are.

The toxic cocktail of boundless hatred, prolific malfeasance, and breathtaking incompetence that they continually day drink from spills over into the lives of those of us who still wake up every morning just hoping to do our work, care for our families, help people, and enjoy human existence without having to contend with full-blown Armageddon.

No event comes without chaos, no day arrives free from existential catastrophe, no consequential moment is not leveraged to divide. For the last ten years, everything has been a fraud, a grift, a con, or a weapon, manufactured and stewarded by a collection of broken people who’ve found affinity in their greed, narcissism, and refusal to do the work of self-examination.

Combine this carefully curated chaos with incessant attacks on the media, dubious dissemination of information following emergencies, and never-clear investigatory procedures in their aftermath, and every single moment of crisis is made exponentially worse.

This week has been no exception.

Within nanoseconds of a shooting at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, hundreds of MAGA influencers, Right-Wing talk show hosts, and Republican politicians began saturation bombing social media with a single message:

This is why we need Trump’s ballroom.

Uh, what?

Conservative influencers were still livestreaming from the site of an alleged assassination attempt on the President and Cabinet, in a monumental breach of what should be the absolute tightest of safety protocols—and the wave of propaganda and disinformation flooded our newsfeeds.

Not gratitude for the incident ending without death.
Not concerns for the safety and well-being of hundreds of people.
Not efforts to bring clarity to the bedlam of yet another supposed targeting of a President.

Such things would be the hallmarks of a collective not addled by cultic tribalism and possessing working empathy. They would have defined any other Administration in this nation’s history.

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In the wake of the WHCD, as in every other time of national unease, what we get from Trump, from his soulless surrogates, and his wish-they-were-bots-but-sadly-they’re-actual people, is nonsense and buffoonery.

Instead of factual information, calm-headed discourse, and calls for unity, we get a coordinated virtual building campaign for another bloated, opulent, gold-plated monument to a cognitively-addled felon-rapist, who is rapidly losing his battle with time and gravity and wants to desecrate everything he can with his likeness before departing.

Trump’s cultivated mass delusion has permanently damaged tens of millions of people around us who quite likely would have been reasonable right now if not for having developed Stockholm syndrome and becoming emotionally tethered to their greatest abuser. Their identities and destinies are now inextricably bound to his.

And my friends, that leaves the rest of us; the sleep-deprived, heartbroken, rightfully furious human beings to try and hold onto our right minds while being immersed in the insane, the profane, and the cruel, by people who have nothing else to offer.

And our individual and collective sanity is non-negotiable if we are to withstand this steady onslaught of chaos, be effective in reversing our political realities, and course correct from the greatest error in our nation’s history.

Resist the pull of their nonsensical rage bait, do your best to avoid being distracted by their incendiary bombast, and do not be drawn into debate with people who have abandoned sense and benevolence.

Find times of rest and clarity, taking refuge in stillness and solitude.
Care for your physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional health.
Create beautiful things, cultivate gratitude, and fight like hell to stay joyful.
Immerse yourself in meaningful community with your like-hearted neighbors.
Partner in the redemptive, neighbor-loving work happening where you are.

And above all, refuse to let your mind descend into the spinning maelstrom of madness that has swallowed so many around us. We can’t afford to lose our heads or our souls right now.

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Dear White Evangelical Church,

I have some good news and some bad news.

The bad news is you’re dying.

If you’re paying attention, you’ve probably noticed the symptoms.

Your buildings are slowly clearing, your pews gradually emptying, your congregations visibly aging away, your voice carrying less resonance than it used to.

The reasons for this are complicated and interconnected, but here are a few broad strokes:

You’re dying because of your hypocrisy.

People see the ever-widening chasm between who you say you are and what they regularly experience in your presence.
They see the great disparity between the expansive hospitality of Jesus and the narrow prejudice you are so often marked by.
They see Christ’s deep affection for the poor, hurting, and marginalized, and either your quiet indifference or your open hostility toward them.
They’ve listened to you preach incessantly about the immorality of the world, the dangers of greed, the corrupt nature of power, the poison of untruth, the evils of sexual perversion—and watched you willingly align with politicians embodying all of these.
They see that you are so often the very kind of malevolent ugliness that you forever warned was coming to assail the world.

You’re dying because of your willful ignorance.

People are tired of your war on Science.
They are sick of your arguing with Biology.
They are exhausted by your attacks on women.
They are disgusted by your justifications of racism.
They despise your narcissistic nationalism.
They know the Earth is round.
They know it is billions, not thousands of years old.
They know dinosaurs walked it.
They know that it is warming rapidly.
They know people here don’t choose their sexuality or deserve their poverty.
They know whoever and whatever God doesn’t appoint Presidents or hand out weapons or attack people with tornadoes.

You’re dying because of your devotion to cruelty.

People watch you dig in your heels against others because of their gender identity and their sexual orientation; the way you continually exact violence upon them, the way you try to blame God and the Bible for your mindless bigotry.
They’ve seen your intolerance to other religious traditions: how you vilify anyone who finds spirituality and meaning outside of your precise expression of Christianity, how you so easily disregard the faith stories of those who don’t mirror your own.
They’ve watched you so revel in being the bully to those you were originally called to protect.

You’re dying because of your complicity in violence.

Good people have seen you so often be a haven for misogynists, domestic abusers, sexual predators, and white supremacists, who more often receive protections than condemnation.
They’ve heard your explicit silence in the face of a brutal and rising flood of open racism, of hostility toward immigrants, of anti-Semitism, of attacks on Asian people and Muslims.
They see your pastors and leaders misuse their positions and leverage their influence to victimize the most vulnerable and make them scapegoats for discrimination.
They’ve watched you be the last, hateful holdout in matters of gender equality, racial diversity, sexuality, and theological difference; lagging behind almost everyone in the world in the kind of goodness you say you aspire to.

It’s easy to be fooled into believing you’re well because you have the political power of a presidency behind you, because you can temporarily impose your will on this nation. But this frantic flurry of cruelty is actually the death rattle of a doomed and dying thing. The empty bombast and blinding lights of your megachurches are a hollow rally that may momentarily anesthetize you, but they cannot stave off what is coming.

Yes, Evangelical Church, the bad news is that you’re slowly but surely expiring as you are now.

The good news is that in your passing, something else is being born.

Rising in these days is a sprawling movement of disparate people, not bound by denomination or tradition or nation, who want to create something redemptive and life-giving here, who don’t care what it’s called, who gets the credit, or what building it happens in.

Its makers are conscientious objectors in your unending holy wars, choosing to step away from you in order to create loving spiritual communities, grow deeper in personal faith, escape tribal partisan politics, craft a healthier planet, reflect the character of Jesus, and hold onto their souls.

These newly emancipated sojourners are creating something of compassion and generosity and hospitality; a radically inclusive faith that opens the table, a spirituality that welcomes the world, a religion that does no harm: a working theology of love. These open-hearted human beings are unearthing the beauty buried beneath heavy layers of rigid dogma, ornamental religion, and institutionalized discrimination.

The soul is leaving a body that no longer serves it, and you are that body.

The bad news for you, White Evangelical Church, is that you are certainly dying.

And it’s very good news for the rest of us and for a Jesus you have long abandoned.

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I Just Can’t Any More. I Am SO Tired Of The Constant Lies Pouring From His Anus Mouth, His Accordion Hands, And Most Of All I Am Tired Of The Republicans Inability To Remove Him From Office

hey, remember that fucked-up morning back in October when we all woke up to find that demolition crews were already hard at work smashing the shit out of the White House’s stately and historic East Wing?

remember how outraged we were?

calm the frig down, we were told. don’t get all knicker-twisted. Dear Leader is going to put up a big, beautiful Epstein Dance Hall in its place. it’s going to be amazing. oh, and here’s the beauty part: it ain’t gonna cost you taxpayers one penny. Donny and all his billionaire besties are going to completely foot the bill, because their hearts are enormous and they love America to pieces.

yeah, well guess what. the bill for this dance hall just came due, in the form of the GOP’s budget reconciliation legislation — and We the People are on the hook for a billion fucking dollars.

what in the hallowed name of Bait-and-Switch Jesus is this fuckery? when did this ‘gift to America from Donny and his morbidly wealthy homies’ become a billion dollar taxpayer-funded boondoggle?

it’s not like there isn’t an extensive public record of Donny running his fat yap about how he was going to personally pick up the tab for this abomination.

check this out: CNN actually committed a journalism and put together a montage of Donny promising over and over that his fugly Epstein Dance Hall wasn’t going to cost a single taxpayer dime.

“and I’m paying for it. I’m paying for it.”
“we’re donating a four hundred million dollar ballroom.”
“myself and donors are giving them, free of charge, for nothing.”
“we did it, we said no charge to the taxpayer whatsoever.”
“rich people and people are putting up the money. zero taxpayer dollars.”
“it’ll cost two hundred and fifty million dollars.”
“it’s about three hundred million.”
“it’s approximately four hundred million.”

don’t you just love how the price keeps spiraling? two-fifty mil. three hundred. no, four hundred. last week it was six hundred million.

and now, a billion. why? is the accursed thing going to be made out of solid gold?

let’s back up a second, because I have a question. Donny claims to have already raised three hundred mil from his oligarch buds.

Trump has said that the administration has raised about $300 million for the project.

tell me, please, because I really want to know: where the fuck is thatmoney? did it get up and walk away? is it now in one of Donny’s bank accounts?

WHERE’S THE FUCKING MONEY?

this fugly, unnecessary dance hall is such a perfect encapsulation of America in the year 2026.

nobody asked for this. nobody said ‘hey let’s take the stately and historic East Wing and smash it to rubble so some piss-baby narcissist can build some ginormous monument to his own ego.’ no, this vulgar Epstein Dance Hall™ is being inflicted on us by a serial predator who isn’t big on consent.

think of how many teacher’s salaries a billion dollars could pay for. think of all the school supplies a billion dollars could buy.

did you know that at the start of every school year, teachers have to crowdfund in order to pay for things like chalk and erasers? what the fuck?

what kind of shithole country forces teachers to brainstorm with each other to come up with new ways to beg for money — money that the federal government should be giving them for free?

oh I’m sorry, there’s no money for funding education. we had to cut that shit out of the budget. oligarchs need tax cuts. Jeff Bezos’ personal flotation device needs to refurbish her kidneys.

and Donny needs a billion dollars for his hideous Epstein Dance Hall™.

“because they’re sick people, they’re sick people, and we’re not gonna let lunatics have a nuclear weapon. the power of a nuclear weapon is— something I don’t even wanna talk about. it’s not gonna happen, and— we have— beaten them badly, they’re talking all— now they’re reduced to little boats with a machine gun on the front of them.”

read the room, you dunderhead, you’re talking to kids.

pro tip: don’t put Sundowning Grandpa Fuckbrain in the same room with children. he hasn’t the slightest clue how to talk to them.

those kids were props, trucked in to stand around while Donny signed some ‘Presidential Fitness Proclamation’ — and what does he do? start yammering about nuclear bombs and boats with machine guns. perfectly normal, age-appropriate stuff.

remember when Donny told some 7-year-old that Santa Claus didn’t exist? remember when he spoke at a Boy Scout Jamboree and started rambling about drunken boat orgies?

remember when Donny and his dead pedo bestie used to argue over who got to ‘own’ the ‘spa girls’ at his Florida golf motel? that should forever disqualify Donny from being allowed in the same room with anyone under the age of 21.

mommy, what’s mutilization?

“when you have men in women’s sports, and you have open borders, when you have transgender mutilization — don’t listen to this, kids — of your children, of your children. trans. gender. mutilization of your children, or for everyone. when you have policies like that, you have to cheat. it’s the only way they can win. and we shouldn’t allow them to cheat.”

what kind of parent says yes to having their kid in the same room as this malignant toad? don’t make me come over there and call child protective services.

‘don’t listen to this, kids’ — cover your ears as the demented hatemonger fills the room with his sick brand of bigotry.

and could someone please explain to Dear Leader that nobody is ‘mutilizing’ children? that’s not a word, and it’s not a thing.

remember, Donny actually believes that schools in America are performing gender reassignment surgeries on random children, without warning — that Jimmy gets on the school bus in the morning and when that child steps off the bus in the afternoon, she’s now Jane.

Donny seriously campaigned on ending this imaginary scourge, and apparently he thinks it’s still going on.

this is our president. he’s bugfuck nuts, he’s completely detached from reality, and he needs a billion dollars for his tacky Epstein Dance Hall.

have you heard? we’ve moved the goalposts once again in the don’t-you-dare-call-it-a-war on Iran. here’s Liddle Marco Big-Shoes to lay it out.

“our preference is for the Straits to be opened, to the way they’re supposed to be open. back to the way it was.”

wait, that’s our new goal? to open the thing that was already open in the first place, and only got closed down because Donny started an unprovoked, unnecessary and illegal war?

why did we just waste 25 billion dollars on bombing the shit out of Iran? for that money, we could have built twenty-five vulgar Epstein Dance Halls.

hell, we could have transgender mutilized every child on the planet.

this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:

practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.

to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.

we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.

 

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How Much Longer Will We Have To Suffer Before They 25th Amendment Him?

 

of the myriad accomplishments that Preznit Fuckwit has accomplished during an entire lifetime of accomplishments, none fill him with a greater sense of pride than his preternatural ability to point at shit.

big, strong neurologists — the afternoon sun glistening off their massive biceps, copious tears of gratitude coursing down their chiseled cheeks — will come up to Dear Leader and say ‘sir! sir! no one takes a brain damage assessment test like you do! sir! can you please take another one? sir!’

and Donny, he’s so eager to show off his skills, he’s all ‘what do you need me to point at, bro? a squirrel?’

boom! manifested!

“no president has ever taken [a cognitive test] except me. I’ve taken three of them. I’ve aced each one. one in the first administration. two over— and whenever they get a little sassy, like ‘does he still have it?’, I say all right, I’ll take another. and they are hard. you know, the first question is very easy, and they always show the first question. you have a lion, a bear, an alligator, and a what’s another good— a squirrel, okay? ‘which is the squirrel?’”

know why Dear Leader is so goddamned proficient at pointing at squirrels?

it’s because has has a whole family of them living inside his big dumb pumpkin head.

how completely fucking insane is it that bragging about how good he is at pointing at shit has now become a central part of every one of Donny’s public appearances?

it no longer matters who Donny’s speaking in front of, or what the topic is. his prowess at pointing now comes up every single time he opens his rancid anus-mouth. yesterday’s Oval Bordello dog-and-pony show was ostensibly a ‘small business summit.’ there was no possible context for yammering about squirrels, but that didn’t stop Donny from boasting about taking a test that’s only administered to people suspected of having brain damage.

it’s just more perfectly normal stuff from our perfectly normal president — except for the part where none of this is normal, and all of it is insane. having a crazypants president is not sustainable. alarm bells should be going off in Congress and in every newsroom in America right now — and yet, our institutions have one again failed us, and have normalized having a deranged and impaired president.

oh, and by the way — there’s no squirrel in the MOCA assessment test. remember harder, dumbfuck.

no president has ever worked so tirelessly to convince the American people that he isn’t bugfuck nuts — and you know what? no one’s buying it.

Heather Cox Richardson, could you step in here and give Donny the bad news?

According to a new Washington Post–ABC News–Ipsos poll, fifty-nine percent of Americans believe President Donald J. Trump does not have the mental sharpness necessary to lead the country. Fifty-five percent think he does not have the physical health to serve as president. Fifty-four percent say they don’t think Trump is a strong leader. Sixty-seven percent think Trump doesn’t carefully consider important decisions.

sorry, pal. it looks like no one’s falling for your ‘I’m so good at squirrel’routine.

gee, I wonder where so many people got the idea that Donny’s an erratic imbecile. maybe it’s because he acts like one.

pretending he’s a ‘trans weightlifter’ is also now a regular part of Donny’s act. why? all he’s doing is reminding everyone that he’s cuckoo for cocoa puffs.

and it’s not just the weird-ass raving. Donny’s now at the ‘words, do they even exist’ stage of his cognitive collapse.

“on the way back home, take a trip to the reflecting pond, or— they call it the reflecting pool, some people call it the reflecting lake, but the word ‘reflecting’ is always a part of it. they call it different things but ‘reflecting’ is always a part.”

what the actual fuck? no one on the planet calls it the ‘pond’ or the ‘lake’ — it’s been the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool since it was built in 1922. but since Dear Leader can no longer dredge the proper word from the murky depths of his rotting brain, he has to pretend that nobody can agree on what it’s called. I guess it’s now just some linguistic free-for-all.

maybe we should call it the Squirrel Pond and let Donny brag about how he can point at it.

I’m so old, I can remember all the way back to our previous president. when Joe Biden would occasionally stumble over a word, the press would react as if it were the Fall of the Republic, and demand Joe resign on the spot, for the good of the country.

but Donny has somehow earned a lifetime free pass to stand there with his brain visibly leaking out of his ears, and no one in the media says boo.

wake the fuck up, Jake Tapper.

Dear Leader can point to all the squirrels he wants to and claim it’s proof of his mental stability, but everyone can see how an erratic and irrational Donny changes his mind about Iran every single fucking day.

“President Trump tells Fox if US ships are targeted in the region, Iran will be ‘blown off the face of the earth’”

oh, okay. so Donny’s back to threatening to blow an entire country off the face of the earth. perfectly normal stuff.

for those of you keeping score at home, in just the last four days, we’ve gone from ‘hostilities are over, I pinky-swear it’s true’ to ‘that blockade, it’s a friendly blockade’ —

— to ‘everything’s cool, we’re liberating the Strait,’ to ‘we’re gong to blow these fucking fucks to kingdom come.’

it’s not just the batshit ranting that has Donny’s poll numbers in the shitter. everyone can also see that Donny’s a physically deteriorating mess who can no longer walk a simple straight line.

holy fuck. a meandering Donny changes direction about eight times in this 30-second clip. if you were a cop, you would immediately rush over and administer a field sobriety test.

granted, Donny isn’t quite yet at the ‘ministry of silly walks’ phase — but he’s getting there.

the press can sanewash and healthwash Donny all they want, but the public has eyes and ears and they can witness for themselves that Dear Leader is out there where the buses don’t run.

having a deranged chief executive who threatens to destroy entire countries and can no longer remember what words mean is a clear and present danger to the entire world.

here’s the good news: Donny’s massive unpopularity is dragging down his entire party. even the White House recognizes that a bloodbath is coming.

The White House is forecasting a rough November for congressional Republicans.

In private briefings, attorneys at the White House Counsel’s Office are preparing executive branch staff for a blue wave in the 2026 elections, The Washington Post reported Monday.

let’s make this happen. let’s all work to make the White House’s nightmare a reality. then, a Democratic-controlled Congress can at least begin to restore sanity to Washington.

we can do this.

this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:

practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.

to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.

we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.

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Photo by Art Litvinau on Unsplash

Hey MAGAs and Trump Supporters,
No Cinco De Mayo for you.
Seriously, y’all need to sit this one out.

No one wants to see you ICE-supporting, immigrant-slandering, landscaper-harassing fascist bootlickers in local Mexican restaurants throughout this country, cramming your faces with tortilla chips, pounding half-price margaritas, and pretending you haven’t spent the previous 364 days making life hell for the Latino community.

We’ve had it with you hypocrites.

You don’t get to both literally and figuratively patronize people you continually demonize, recklessly paint as illegals, drug dealers, and gang members, and spread dangerous disinformation about, just because you feel like doing a little overeating, some day drinking, and suddenly cosplaying as decent human beings.

Now, most Mexican restaurant and bar owners aren’t going to say this because they’re too kind hearted and welcoming a people, but I’ll say it: you career bigots who’ve stridently celebrated this racist president for the last decade, have a hell of a lot of nerve showing up and expecting the rest of us not to call you out on the dehumanizing stereotypes you traffic in all year long.

You need to own the garbage you believe and broadcast about our Latin, Central, and South American brothers and sisters, and the violence that you are complicit in by your votes, your rhetoric, and your silence.

Over the last year and a half, Latino business owners, day laborers, construction workers, teachers, and families have been terrorized, beaten, threatened, improperly detained, jailed, and kidnapped by masked thugs, and your repugnant spray-tanned savior has been the author of it all.

Brown-skinned children have been ripped from their parents, couples have been separated, grandparents have been bloodied, church services have been invaded, and entire communities have been thrown into chaos—and you have applauded every second of it.

And you sure as hell didn’t speak up or show up to defend or support them in the streets or online, lest you feel the slightest bit of turbulence in the places of privilege you call home.

We’ll all had to listen to your rambling racist nonsense in front of our houses, at our family gatherings, at work, at the gym, and pretty much everywhere you show up. We’ve endured your incendiary memes and your asinine jokes and your baseless partisan hit pieces. We’ve absorbed the sewage you spill at town halls, school board meetings, and on neighborhood social media apps.

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So, please, pardon the rest of us for not wanting to have to eat our lunches this Tuesday with a side order of your staggering hypocrisy, and for asking you to show a little consistency.

You don’t get to and drive up your local taqueria with a Build That Wall bumper sticker on your F-150 and expect us all to give you one day of amnesty just cause you’re in the mood to get smashed. I’m sure there are tons of good ol’ boy-owned meat-and-threes, or maybe a nice Applebee’s that’ll do you just fine.

It’s just a little bit disengenous for you to mock and ridicule and vilify a group of human beings all year long and think that we’ll all develop 24-hour amnesia.

And, MAGAs, the same goes for every day after Tuesday, as well. You can complain about diversity, atta boy ICE, cheer voting rights rollbacks, lament foreign cultures, spot off about everybody needing to “talk American”, and you continue to fall prostrate before for your Racist-In-Chief.

But don’t show up in places where people gather to celebrate disparate humanity and the cultural richness of this planet, and hope we’ll ignore your red baseball hats, your white nationalist propaganda, and your efforts to make this nation into a white gated community.

If you’re planning on making an appearance this Cinco De Mayo, let us give you a hearty preemptive “adios!”

Have lunch somewhere else.

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Bringing the Trump-Corrupted Presidency to Heel

We will de-Trump America when he is gone. Tearing down all the monuments, taking his name off places it never should have been, unfucking the gaudy vomit he has put all over the White House will be easy and relatively fast.

All the other stuff he has destroyed is going to take the rest of my life to rebuild. The open corruption, lying during confirmations, and naked political actors in SCOTUS, all the relationships with America’s 20th century allies, the empowering and protection of the Epstein Class… it’s a lot. And I we haven’t even mentioned the DOGE destruction.

The rest of my life, at least, and I do know one thing: if we can do it, we can’t just roll it back to 2015. We have to rebuild everything, and we have to punish the absolute fuck out of this entire criminal organization. I’m talking prison for life, nationalizing of assets. We need to ask ourselves, “What would John Brown or Sherman do?”

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I fear that rebuilding what has been destroyed will take longer than I’ll be alive, even optimistically giving myself another 20 years…

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One Of Two Films This Year That I’m Actually Going To A Theater To See

Backrooms is one of two films I’ll be venturing out to actually see in a theater this year. (The other being DUNE3.) I purchased my ticket today, not that I fear I’ll have any trouble getting in…

I first stumbled across The Backrooms on YouTube back in 2002. Posted on the Kane Pixels channel, at the time the initial video terrified me because I hadn’t run across anything like it previously. Was this real? Rationally I knew it couldn’t be, but the environment was so damn convincing.

In the intervening years, The Backrooms has become somewhat of an internet sensation, with multiple videos being produced by dozens of creators. Some of the videos are really good, expanding upon this strange universe and some are…well…not.

There were rumors last year that a feature-length film was in the works, even though I couldn’t imagine how this story would be brought to the big screen. Well, apparently it was more than just a rumor. Kane Parsons—the original creator of The Backrooms—is directing this A24 production, which is being released later this month (on my birthday, no less!).

If you’re curious, Kane’s original videos can be seen here,

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