The Self-Love of the Orange Juggler
By Jirair Tutunjian
Report on President of the Universe Donald J. Trump’s pow wow with his cabinet following his 100-minute State of the Union Lie-athon.
Trump: Overnight I received an email from the people at the Guinness Book of World Records. They want to include my two-hour speech in their list of records. I said: “You have seen nothing yet, baby.”
Welcome to this greatest day in the history of our nation or any nation for that matter. Last night I taught the world that America is no longer the sucker to be fleeced by everyone from Patagonia to Pago Pago.
Compared to my American Golden Age, previous American Golden Ages are 8-carat tin.
Before I start the meeting, I want to hear your assessment of my speech. J.D., what did you think of my speech?
J.D. Vance: I was speechless.
Trump: You, Marco.
Marco Rubio: It was music to my ears.
Trump: Spoken by a professional sinecure. Scott, how about you?
Scott Bessant: Sir Winston Churchill couldn’t have said it better.
Trump: This morning I heard the usual medley of media monkeys carp that I had spoken for two-and-a-half hours. But they didn’t mention that I spoke without notes and I was standing up throughout.
I know the bosses of most of these so-called journalists. We are going to take care of the ink-stained wretches. They will be on the street in a few days. I am not controlling the media: I am cleaning it up. So sad, sobeautiful.
My enemies say I have many friends who are pedophiles. I ask ya, what’s so bad with being an aficionado of artistic and purpose-made shoes?
The sanctimonious losers of the Left and the Right accuse me of being misogynist. It takes a special breed of imbeciles to make that allegation. If I were a misogynist, would I have married thrice, not to mention my close relations with girlfriends? I love girls… err…women.
America is bigger, better, stronger, and more beautiful than at any time since it was established in 1746. We are living an epic millstone. THE spirit has returned like never before. Good times are here again.
Inflation is down, employment is up; the cost of healthcare is down; incomes are up; longevity is up, crime statistics are down; abortion is down; house purchases are up…homosexual-lesbian marriages are down. Weddings of normal people are up. You know something… I detect a subtle rhythm here. We should get someone to turn these wordsinto a song. I’ll talk to Pat Boone. We will call it “America Swings.” We will bust the pop charts and win the Oscar, Toni, Global Awards.
The spirit has returned to our Glorious America like never before. We are basking in the Golden, Platinum, Silver, and Molybdenum Age. We are the city atop the hill.
I promise I will keep up the pace and run for a third term. Fuddy-duddy, pipsqueak judges say it’s illegal to run for a third time. I say to them: it wasn’t God who banned a third term. It was people who drafted that law.What people draft, others can change. They say I would be 83 when I ran in the next elections. So what? Abraham was 100-years-old when Sarah gave birth to Itzhak. I am as strong as a bull. Name one 79-year-old who can deliver a three-hour speech standing up. Ask Melania…
O.K. That’s it.
Howard, when are you going to shave your ratty beard? You look like The Merchant of Venice. Call the kitchen and tell them we are ready for breakfast.
Howard Lutnik: Mr. President, I will shave it tonight. The chef emailed me the menu a minute ago. Breakfast is three-tier hamburger, with the works, a ton of French fries, hash brown, and family-size Dr. Pepper (your favorite, Mr. President-for-Life), and a large bowl of Putin.
Pam Bondi: Howie, you mean poutine. Whose bright idea was to order Canuck food? Cancel the poutine order. We have to send a message to that upstart Carney.
Trump: Right on, Pammy.
