You know when you're moving down the Interstate alone late at night, five miles over the speed limit. And suddenly, wham, there in your high beams is the snowstorm the radio warned about. That stuff is coming at you so thick and fast it’s blinding and disorienting.

Of course, I've never done any such thing. But that’s exactly what these early few days of Donald Trump’s restored presidency seem like. Turns out, so far, No. 47 is even better than No. 45.