My kids are still reeling from the cosmic injustice that Chick-fil-A closes on Sundays, and so it’s no surprise that, after a few Trump-free days, dopamine-deprived Americans were twitching for their next ALL CAPS fix from the attention economy’s reigning purveyor of entertaining outrage.

In case you missed it, President Trump recently vanished from public sight for nearly a week, resulting in social media being flooded with hashtags declaring # TrumpDead.

Eventually he resurfaced, but that didn’t answer the obvious question: Why would a man who craves attention the way most of us crave oxygen go six straight days (!) without a major public event?

Cue speculation — heart attack, mini-stroke, alien abduction. The truth is out there. We’re ready to believe you.

In fairness to the conspiracy theorists, Trump isn’t exactly the picture of health. At 79, he’s the oldest president ever sworn into office. His food pyramid seemingly consists of McDonald’s fries and Diet Coke. And if you’re thinking he’ll just work off the extra calories by running wind sprints and doing burpees, Trump once averred that exercise (other than golf) saps energy.

Perhaps it’s no surprise, then, that he’s been hobbling around with ankles swollen like microwaved hotdogs and a mysterious bruise on his hand that he tries to cover in makeup.

Doctors assured us this summer that the swelling is the result of a manageable condition called “chronic venous insufficiency,” and the bruises are due to aspirin and shaking hands with people — a cute theory, except that Trump has also been photographed with bruises on his left hand.

Of course, conspiracy theories usually require a little help from our so-called friends. Into this circus wandered JD Vance, who added lighter fluid to the rumor mill by telling USA Today he was “ ready to assume the role of commander in chief” in case of a “terrible tragedy.”

Comforting, JD. Really steadying the ship.

Then came a so-called proof of life photo of Trump with former NFL coach Jon Gruden. The problem? The photo was thought to be a week old, at least, according to the “Weekend at Bernie’s” crowd.

So Trump finally did what he always does: He fired off a triumphant Truth Social post proclaiming, “NEVER FELT BETTER IN MY LIFE.” Which, if you’ve ever had an uncle who chain smokes Marlboro Reds and deep fries his own Twinkies, is precisely the sentence uttered before the EMTs find him sprawled out in his bathroom beside an empty KFC bucket.

Upon finally resurfacing in person, Trump took a page out of his own crisis management playbook by calling the speculation “fake news” and saying this sort of thing is why “the media has so little credibility.”

The reality, though, is that these rumors weren’t cooked up by the New York Times or the others in the mainstream media. They spread online, courtesy of conspiracy theorists, amateur sleuths and people whose schadenfreude levels are off the charts.

Again, though, it’s hard to blame them for refusing to ignore the obvious. Trump isn’t the same man he was in 2016. Even then, his cadence seemed comically weird and discursive. Today, his voice is raspier, his gait slower, his eyes puffier. What’s more, there’s no Joe Biden around to make him look spry by comparison.

And make no mistake, as we learned as recently as (checks notes) last year, a president’s health matters.

Think of Biden in that horrific debate. Or — if you’d rather not — think FDR at Yalta, or Woodrow Wilson, whose wife basically ran the country after he suffered a stroke. (If Trump starts signing off Truth Social posts with “ Be Best, Everyone,” you’ll know we’ve entered Edith Wilson territory.)

This is to say, there are plenty of reasons to be alarmed about Trump’s health. Life is fragile (I’m old enough to remember when we almost lost a president to a pretzel.)

Still, I can’t help suspecting that much of the speculation is the result of wishcasting by Trump’s frustrated enemies who are clinging to some, albeit macabre, “Deus ex machina” to solve their political problems.

If you believe Trump is a budding authoritarian, but one whose movement is so personality-driven it can’t outlive him, then his health may be the only actual check on his power. Congress certainly isn’t going to rein him in.

But while it’s possible the mortality table will accomplish what elections couldn’t, putting all your stock on a cholesterol-laden cheeseburger to save democracy is the political equivalent of buying lottery tickets for retirement.

Strongmen sometimes cling to life long after their expiration dates. They have a tendency to outlive their enemies and their doctors long after they’ve outstayed their welcome.

So while it’s not crazy to suspect the White House is hiding something from us in regards to Trump’s health, if the Democrats are counting on plaque buildup to do what they can’t or won’t do at the ballot box, they could be in for a long, cold winter.

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Matt K. Lewis is the author of “ Filthy Rich Politicians” and “ Too Dumb to Fail.”

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