Checkmate.

And now we are coming to the final chess match. The opponents have been playing for what seems to be forever. Captivity is the final goal. To capture the king — the king of evil. There are only two — two players in this final match. Donald Trump is one. Justice is the other.

Trump thinks he can win. But few have ever won against Justice. Still, with his delusions of grandeur, of course, trump would thinks himself the exception. So the Chess pieces face each other. Justice is pure white, as white as snow. The Trump piece is as black as night’s madness. They contrast each other quite well.

Justice starts with an advantage, for they’ve played this game before — again and again. They rarely lose sight of their quarry. They play with confidence. But the other player, trump, is having problems. His Chess pieces are cramped. They are positioned much too close to each other, which severely limits his ability to move the game in any way.

This game is the ultimate battle of wits. And as the game goes on, the pawn seems caught up in it, unaware of the danger he has put himself in. This particular little pawn won’t stop trying, though. He is firmly in defense mode as he is moved about, up and down, and all around, unable to master control from his relentless fellow player, unable to move the board in his favor.

The shrinking little pawn has already lost so many moves. Kings, queens, bishops, and rooks all were in hot pursuit. He had tried to hold them off, tried to postpone their spoils of war, but he could not shake them.

And he was about to be devoured by a pair of rooks — a queen from Georgia — a king from DC — both of whom many were whispering were about to pounce. Of course, the indignant pawn had lots of grievances. But nobody was listening. He was being tuned out as his opponent moved in ever closer. Check-mate.