So the crazy, angry, out-of-touch guy with possible PTSD, known anger management issues, possible creeping dementia, and a painfully obvious inability to process things on anything but an instinctual, surface level — that is to say, the man that would like to be in charge of the trillions of dollars worth of death-dealing merchandise the US has, in our great, benevolent wisdom, arranged to point towards every other corner of the Earth — the dude’s taking Ambien? The drug that made mild-mannered REM sideman Peter Buck fly into a rage towards flight attendants before accidentally wedging himself between two seats? The drug notorious for putting its users into “fugue” states where they don’t remember a fucking thing? Where they do crazy shit like eating everything in the house or swearing incomprehensibly at loved ones?

Forget Bush and his Jack Daniels, that shit is terrifying. I’ve seen more than my share of people who took Ambien and either didn’t go to sleep when they should’ve or were woken up (which, incidentally, is almost impossible — good thing the fucking President doesn’t have to be up in the middle of the night) and they are crazy. Like, zombies. For real. The only way Sky Captain Andy Rooney Buck Turgidson Death, Destroyer Of Worlds could make himself any scarier at this point (at least if avoiding a world plunged into horrific turmoil isn’t your bag) would be if he tried to wrest control of his plane from the pilots and crash it. Which, I give it a week, and more power to him.