Aren’t you tired of pretending that you understand the pain of the person who just called you a fascist bigot? Haven’t you had enough of those “Kumbaya” moments where you “agree to disagree,” which is code for “Leave me alone, I want to go eat my dinner.” I know that I’m supposed to write some kind of solemn, wise dissertation this week on how we need to move forward, bond together and follow the better angels of our nature out of this national nightmare. But honestly, I don’t want to.