Scarier Than The Living Dead?

Once again, not to be mistaken for Tuesday's With Morrie, it's Tuesdays With Trump... From Scarier Than The Living Dead?
One current White House advisor said last year that “2016 is the Flight 93 election: charge the cockpit or you die. You may die anyway. You—or the leader of your party—may make it into the cockpit and not know how to fly or land the plane. There are no guarantees.  
The implication being that complete destruction is preferable to allowing things to keep going in the current direction. This is a desperation that is utterly inexplicable to those who are currently toward the top of the income and education scale. 
An explicit aim of the Trumpists – a reactionary counter-revolution rolling back decades of social progress and industry-specific obsolescence. Re-shuffling the deck of cards. Flipping over the roulette table. Letting the chips fall to the ground and the players starting from scratch.
Can anyone or anything turn this tide of our growing separation from each other? I can’t imagine what could do it in the short-term. And I still can’t change an oil filter.
The Nattering One muses... no this isn't a plane hijacked by foreign terrorists. Taking Flight 93 one step beyond, point in fact this is more like Flight 33...
You're riding on a jet airliner en route from London to New York. You're at 35,000 feet atop an overcast and roughly fifty-five minutes from Idlewild (JFK) Airport. But what you've seen occur inside the cockpit of this plane is no reflection on the aircraft, just the crew which has been chosen to fly it. It's a safe, well-engineered, perfectly designed machine. But the men you've just met are a untrained, self interested, combustible and highly inefficient team. The problem is simply that the plane and it true modus operandi, is not within the realm of the pilots knowledge or at least his inept wrecking crews logic to explain it. Unbeknownst to passenger and crew, this airplane is heading into an uncharted region well off the beaten track of commercial travelers—it's moving into The Trump White House. What you're about to see we call "The Odyssey of Flight 33."
This tale of insanity known as Flight 33 is a modern telling of the Flying Dutchman myth. An unlikely break of the time barrier finds a commercial airliner (parable for the insular electorate of the Unites States) sent back into the prehistoric age and then to New York City of 1939.

An odyssey where the passengers keep making the same mistakes over and over again. And yet wonder why things keep repeating themselves and are constantly getting worse. After decades openly spent abdicating their freedom, and being satisfied with the illusion of agency afforded them by those they choose to put in control, they just can't seem to get back home to 2017.
A Global jet airliner, en route from London to New York on an uneventful afternoon in the year 2017, but now reported overdue and missing, and by now, searched for on land, sea, and air by anguished human beings from other countries around the globe, fearful of what they'll find. But you and I know where she is. You and I know what's happened. So if some moment, any moment, you hear the sound of jet engines flying atop the overcast—engines that sound searching and lost—engines that sound desperate—shoot up a flare or do something. That would be Global 33 trying to get home—from The Trump White House.
Flight 33 was not hijacked by foreign terrorists, just common seemingly innocuous domestic ones.   Many are searching high and low, and with plenty of hatred and blame to go around, fingers are being pointed in many directions.  Alas, to catch a glimpse of the real terrorists, all those passengers have to do is give a passing glance into the next reflective object or mirror. This comes to mind as apropos and Out.

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