An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying King;

Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow

Through public scorn,—mud from a muddy spring;

Rulers who neither see nor feel nor know,

But leechlike to their fainting country cling

Till they drop, blind in blood…

–Shelley, “England in 1819”

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Donny reminds me of those July 4th fireworks that became ashen black worms once you lit them.

All the worm—billed inaccurately on the box as a “cobra”—left behind was a black smudge. 

It was, of course, a classless social media post, expected from a classless man—“mud from a muddy spring.”

What does class look like? Thank you for that rhetorical question. I have several answers.