As I browse around here early in the morning, I pick up a faint but discernible scent. It wafts through like a gentle breeze, rising and falling as softly as a sleeping baby’s breath. But it isn’t the scent of an innocent child. It’s the odor of rotting garbage—very subtle, but still identifiable.

The salaried shills and paid trolls who roam here are more hidden and better focused than ever. Maybe they received new orders, more training, and better pay since Mar-a-Lago. Who knows? But their stink is still here. It’s who they are and what they do—and a lot of them have figured out how not to get banned.

As offended as we are is how brave we can be. Their subtle stink is our call to action.