PUSSY GALORE.

Even on North Carolina Avenue over a mile away, there was a steady stream of them -- nearly all women, nearly all wearing that hat, some carrying signs, all looking resolute and cheerful. They went to the space they'd been licensed and they owned it -- half a million flooding the avenues, spilling onto the sidestreets, chanting and cheering and ululating like Xena. They were strong without being macho -- that is to say, without being assholes. This was the biggest demo I've attended since the 2004 RNC protest in New York, and certainly the one with the biggest f-to-m ratio, and perhaps for that reason it was the most polite (no crowding, no shoving, every jostle came with an apology) while being at the same time the most fierce -- no one would expect a limo to be set on fire, but each time the ladies raised their voices by God you heard every one.

And this was replicated around the nation and around the world. Millions of women took the time to answer Friday's atrocity. I'm pretty sure that's why Trump's flak Sean Spicer lied his ass off so splenetically about the feeble attendance at Il Douche's douchination -- he knew that, as he'd been outnumbered in the election, so he would be outnumbered in the streets. And he tried to head this off in the only way chunkhead thugs like him know how: Bullying and bluster. That works with some of the more suggestible and insecure guys in this big high school we call America. But the girls, whether they're on the student council or smoking behind the gym, know better, have always known better. Of necessity they've gotten pretty good over the centuries at keeping their own counsel. But that is changing, and by the minute.