Trump got shot and didn’t die. Praise the heavens.

Had Trump died, it would have been bad for him. End of life, and in all likelihood an eternity in the fires of damnation. It might have been worse for those he left behind. Whatever havoc he sows over his remaining days, the chaos that would have followed his murder might have been worse.

Such speculation is beside the point, however. Murder is wrong. We should all be glad his didn’t happen.

That the current disintegration of American politics—a temporary mutation or an accelerating devolution?—briefly culminated in an assassination attempt is mind boggling. That it was Trump is hardly matters, in a sense. If Vegas has odds on such things, Biden was the safer bet. And yet a young man tried to assassinate Donald Trump. His attempt encapsulates much about our mental health in 2024. The shooter saw a solution to something—his concerns, his demons, his frustrations—in a murder/suicide. Clearly deranged. And from some of those who sought to comprehend what had happened, to fit it into the narrative of this election cycle, came a different but only somewhat less deranged response.

God moved the bullet.

Yes, it was a fluke that one of the shooter’s bullets grazed Trump’s ear and got no closer. But the former president’s prostrating fans inevitably and inanely saw the hand of God at work.

Whose God? we should ask. And was this same God busy with his hands when Trump cheated on his wife? Or when he raped E. Jean Carroll? Did this God direct those bullets into Corey Comperatore, the bystander in the rally bleachers who was murdered?

This quasi-religious reaction is one of the major takeaways from the sad attempt on Trump’s life, for it shows in a new way how religion has moldered in America. They talk about Christianity, but they don’t walk the talk. There is very little living in the example of Christ. Instead, they find brother- and sisterhood, nay, meaning, in praise of Trump—lumps, scars, lies, convictions, rapes, and all.

The second takeaway is that Trump got to name JD Vance his running mate.

I’m all for the evolution of beliefs and ideas. But there is a name for Vance’s transformation from never-Trumper to whatever abomination he has become: bootlicker.

Like anyone who has joined Trump’s circle, Vance’s dance with the devil will unfold into tragedy. While his journey might take longer, he’ll end up in the same place as Mike Pence: vilified, unloved, untouchable. The problem is despite Trump’s infatuation with the spotlight, he might let Vance step into it more than he did Pence. Trump, after all, has a physical inability to focus on details or to care about policy. Vance is bright enough and works diligently enough that, given the opportunity, he could do a lot of damage before his downfall. He’s bad for Ukraine, and therefore all of Europe. He’s bad for the evolution of the energy sector and horrible for the environment (and thus the health of all).

Though Vance has a long runway ahead of him age-wise, we can only hope he joins Pence in Republican purgatory ASAP. Or sooner.