I am sick to death of Donald J. Trump, sick at heart and weary of spirit at what I see happening daily in this country. Tuesday’s debate was the nail in the coffin.

I want a president, not a peevish child who can’t control himself, not a nasty overgrown boy who goes gimlet-eyed white-with-rage if someone suggests he might not be smart, not a schoolyard bully who means to intimidate by talking nonstop over opponent and moderator alike, so no one can hear anything being said.

He does not want a genuine debate about ideas. He has no plan for the future other than to “win.”

When asked recently what his agenda for the next four years would be, his face went blank. He fell silent, not in thought, but because this was a novel idea and nothing came into what passes for his mind. He clearly had not considered the notion at all.

He thinks no further than Nov. 3, plotting whatever mendacious, cruel or dangerous thing deemed necessary to guarantee a win, right down to and including siccing white supremacists on polling places.

It’s a zero-sum game in TrumpWorld. He wins. You lose.

Michele Margetts, Salt Lake City