the orange assholes dementia reminds me of my moms in a way...
when my mom got to the point where she didn't recognize me, but told me that I looked very familiar but couldn't place my face, it broke my heart.
But...
my mom and I had a really fun back and forth type of humor and we would crack each other up. (I miss that so much) anyway, when I would start cracking jokes, her old wit would come right back and she was very present in the moment and knew who I was. It was kind of amazing to witness.
so while I kinda lost my mom, I knew of a way I could still get a glimpse of her old self.
now onto the orange asshole. for my mom, it was humor, for the now pink haired orange faced idiot, it's narcissism. he seems to emerge from his dementia fog somewhat, when in a crowd or around his fawning sycophants. Granted, he is experiencing something my mom didn't: confabulation. aka making shit up from whole cloth.
so when the general public right wing idiots out there, see him and claim he's fine, they are only seeing him in an element that snaps his brain into something comfortable and familiar. They are not seeing him the other 99% of the time when he's completely batshit crazy.