Through it all, the public’s trust in everything fell to all-time lows.

Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton became the least popular characters to seek the presidency in modern history.

As for Congress, one imaginative polling firm found that brussels sprouts, head lice, cockroaches, colonoscopies, and gonorrhea were more popular than our elected representatives. Apparently, the American people realized that when you take it up the ass from a proctologist, at least it’s for your own well-being. From Congress, not so much.

As for the mainstream media, the public’s trust in them fell to its lowest level in recorded history. Maybe it was Trump repeatedly calling them out as dishonest. Maybe it was the hyperpartisan posture they’d adopted in the face of an ever-fading audience.

Whatever the reason, we had no one to blame but ourselves.

The Hillary email leaks during the general election runup confirmed for people what they had long suspected: When it comes to politicians and the press, it’s a chummy little dinner party in Washington, D.C.

The public got wind of the gaggle of reporters invited to drink, dine, and have an off-the-record conversation at the residence of one of Clinton’s campaign representatives; not one of them ever bothered to inform the public of what they heard. Journalists sent unsolicited talking points to her people. They offered obsequious encouragement and slyly provided her questions in advance of a debate. They traded the appearance of independence for access and the occasional but inconsequential scooplet.

On the other side, conservative TV pundits were advising Trump on his run, one going so far as to say that he wasn’t a journalist at all but a talk show host. What was that supposed to mean? He did no fact checking and tossed questions as soft as overripe cantaloupes? Was Larry King now the gold standard?

This went on at the local level as well. At a private birthday party for a government official from which cameras were barred, media personalities nonetheless shamefully posted online pictures of themselves hoisting glasses of booze to the official, all of it paid for by the official’s subordinates. These personalities attended conventions and swilled bourbon at kiosks with the contractors, lobbyists, and politicians they were supposed to cover impartially. The contractors, lobbyists, and politicians knew this was good for them. Why else would anyone drink with a reporter?

The mass media had become gluttonous for fame. The press awarded themselves prizes and statuettes and reported these as important events to the ordinary citizen. Every year, they threw a big Washington party for themselves where they donned tuxedos and gowns, walked a red carpet, and introduced their sources to movie stars and comedians who played fake reporters better than real reporters played real reporters.

And then, as if to repay the favor, real reporters showed up in fictitious movies and TV shows playing their real-life selves reporting fake stories.

And former politicos showed up on TV news programs, passing themselves off as independent analysts.

You’ll forgive the ordinary citizen his confusion.

At least a cockroach knows it’s always a cockroach.