How do we get Trump to IKEA?

We had a small gathering at our house the other night in celebration of Robin achieving another year around the sun.  As sometimes happens the conversation turned to politics.  At least in our circle, these conversations never last a long time as we are all in consensus in being appalled and distressed at the current state of the country and the country’s politics.

I made the comment that Trump had started me praying again, a funny thing for an agnostic to do.  I do pray sometime, but I look at it as a way of focusing on what is upmost on my worry prone brain.  I elaborated by explaining that I pray every day that  Donald Trump has a massive heart attack and we are done with him.  Of course, at that point I would be praying about the next individual in the current line of succession from a White House populated by the Bozo Mafia.

I further related how I had shared my pray about Trump with a friend in Chicago who has a grown autistic son who does not always have good control of his body.  When Trump mocked the disabled reporter by going into a spastic act, it went all over my friend.  Understandably.  He said he does not pray for a heart attack, but for a massive stroke that would cause Trump to lose control of his body and bodily functions.  All that while retaining enough mental capacity that he could realize that people were laughing at him due to karma coming home to roost so dramatically and correctly.

One of the members of our little party was a young, gay man, a kind, gentle person.  He always strikes me as an old soul enjoying another romp through this plane of existence.  He commented that he would never wish anyone dead, but that he did have a reoccurring fantasy.  He had this vision of Trump and all of his Cabinet going to IKEA.  As they wander around the huge store they become lost, and are never seen again.

So how do we get them there?