The trumpet calls, double tower, golden door, Donald. Hillary and her supporters, the world left behind, the race up the golden elevator, will you be so lucky to be selected. The markets worry, haven’t seen anything like this before, a reality TV president, the power of the box in the corner, now in your hands, the remote, the tablet the mobile. Image is so powerful, the message that repeats itself , pressing into your head, the slogans turning over inside you while you sleep. Solomon wondered what all the ego and power stuff was about. The world had changed enormously in a few short years. The Holy Spirit of God had made itself known, great events, miracles, safe plane landings on water, two of them, and hosts of other similar news items. Would any of them vote for God, well, it was a question. There would have to be lots of promises, something God didn’t do, he didn’t need to make a promise, he just did. A choice between eternal life, or death, what do we have to do they ask!, what an ungrateful lot. The brain was smitten with the image of Donald, the slogans stuck, greed was welcomed, and this happened, to great applause, in 2016. Solomon sighed, the image from the sky is real, do they know what they do, amen.