Meanwhile One Timeline Away… in a universe not very far away… an obese President Donald Trump, one very much like our own, living on a parallel Earth, very much like our own, lays intubated, deep in a Covid coma October 2, 2020.
Steve Bannon paces the White House presidential bedroom that’s been converted into a hospital room for the unconscious lump of Trump. Running his stubby hands through his unruly mop of salt and pepper hair, Bannon stops pacing to stare in disbelief and despair at his pal Trump through the clear plastic wall that separates them.
Losing her small amount of patience Ivanka says, “Well, Will you do it, Steve?”
Bannon hesitates for long beat before answering coyly, “I need time, Ivanka. He’s in a damn coma. How am I supposed to run a campaign with him un-fucking-conscious?”
Jared chuckles offering, “Ever seen WEEKEND AT BERNIE’S?”
“No.” say Bannon and Ivanka in unison.
“You guys are no fun,” says Jared, sounding high as a kite on something.
“I’VE GOT IT!” shouts Bannon, frightening Robert, Trump’s Black aid, who is replenishing Trump’s IV bag. It falls to the floor and bursts on the makeshift tile.
“Quiet. Respect for my father-in-law,” scowls Jared.
“Respect from the WEEKEND AT BERNIE’S guy? A movie where Bernie is dead and some freeloaders use Bernie’s corpse to stretch out their free ride?” says Bannon sternly.
“You said you hadn’t seen it,” says Jared sheepishly.
“I lied to save you the embarrassment in front of the President’s wife.”
“Don’t you mean daughter?” says Ivanka.
Bannon remains smugly silent.
Robert slips on the fluid spill and falls to the floor, sending a tray of instruments flying. A flying scalpel impales Trump’s forearm but the trio of plotters are so engrossed they miss Trump’s impalement.
“So what do you have, or got, Steve?” asks Ivanka.
“And please don’t say Covid,” half-jokes Jared.
“Overdoing the Zoetis again, darling?” ask Ivanka, her cheeks flush with anger.
“Knock off the jokes. My father’s, and our, political futures hang in the balance. Go ahead, Steve. We’re all ears,” says Ivanka, oozing sex appeal to get her way by pinching Bannon’s ugly cheek.
Bannon swats Ivanka’s cheek tweak away, distracted as he watches Robert bandage a blood spurt where Robert pulls out the flying scalpel. Bannon takes a long breath and grunts, “Either of you familiar with deep fake videos?”
“We sure as hell are. A porn deep fake of me fucking a donkey while Ivanka rubs her ample breasts in the donkey’s happy face has 10 million views and counting,” crows Jared.
“Ew. Disgusting,” says Ivanka.
“Well, minus the donkey, and Ivanka’s ample breasts, all we need to do is get a gvoice actor with the same build as Donald.”
“Why would people want to see a video of Donald fucking a donkey?” ask Jared incredulously.
“Silly, the donkey is the mascot for the Dems, ” says Ivanka, proud of her political acumen.
“Guys! Enough with the donkey shit. We do this legit. An impassioned speech from his sick bed. We make a deep fake video of your father coming out of his coma to rouse to the base with a red meat attack on the old fuck Biden,” offers Bannon.
“Genius! I’ll never know why Daddy fired you,” says Ivanka, kissing Steve on the cheek.
“Wasn’t fired. I quit, ” brags Bannon.
“Ha. And Nancy Pelosi is really Q, ” jokes Jared.
Ivanka gives Jared a shot in the arm as she says, “Zip it. Go on, Steve.
“The Q balls love the sexual dirt. So in his deep fake speech let’s have Donald’s double accuse Biden of having a S&M with Kamala,” Bannon says dryly cracking Jared and Ivanka up.
Ivanka hugs Bannon so hard and he get a little boner and tries to hide it with a Wall Stree Journal.
Jared jealously look on and says, “The security risks are enormous. Where can we find a Trump imitator we can trust?”
“Simple. We just use them for the deep fake and then kill them!” cheerfully offers Ivanka.
Bannon pulls out his cell phone and dials, “No, no. We need to keep the imposter alive long ’cause we need more than one Trump deep fake video. And I know just the man to help us.!” Bannon diala V for victory and waits. “Vlad?”
“Steven, we speak alone?” says Putin on Bannon’s cell phone speaker.
“Uh, yeah.” says Bannon motioning for Ivanka and Jared to keep quiet. “Remember that double guy we were going to murder in Donald’s place, if Donny boy would have been impeached, then smuggle Donnie boy out into Mother Russia for amnesty?”
“Da.” says Putin warily.
24 hours later…
A naked Yuri Yakov, who could easily stunt double for Trump, slips into a hospital gown with the seal of the president printed on it’s chest. Yuri says to the nervous looking Bannon, “Relax, Commrade Bannon. –”
“Call me, Steve please.”
“How about Steverino?” says Yuri .
“When we go live?”
“Never. This shit is taped so I can add in the deep fake in later. Doing the damn edit myself.”
“Relax, bro. Can’t be too hard to make a deep fake if kids on the internet are making these damned things. Haha! I love the one where Bill Hader turns in to Tom Cruise. ”
“Just, Steve! Cut the chi chat, Yuri, and study your fucking lines!”
“Comrade — Ah Steve, why so tense, my brother in this deepest of deep fakes?”
“Melania’s due back tonight,” Bannon says checking his watch.
Meanwhile at the grand stairway…
An exhausted Melania slumps her way up the stairway to the presidential residential quarters. She’s spotted by a shocked Ivanka and Jared, standing guard for Bannon.
“Mamma! You’re home 7 hours ahead of schedule. How nice!” shouts Jared rushing down the stairs to intercept Melania.
“Jared, you have never called me Mamma before. What is wrong?! Donald dead?!”
“No, no. Of course not. But he’s in no shape for visitors now.” says Ivanka nervously.
“Fine. I need a bath. Bad weather. My flight was as exhausting one of Donald’s accursed rallies or protests or whatever he’s calling them to lure these fools to the deaths. Such stupid people Trumpies.”
“Let me treat you to coffee there, Melania!” says Jared yanking Melania down the hallway.”
“I don’t drink coffee.”
“Why are you keeping me from my bedroom, Jared?”
Jared panics into silence but Ivanka takes over. “Redecorating! They are redecorating your bedroom, Melania, and it won’t be done for several hours. Oh it’s going to be beautiful!”
“You’re going to love it, Mama!” shouts Jared.
“Fuck off the both of you! Decorating of the White House is my department!” Melania storms past Jared and Ivanka up the stairs. They shrug to each other, not knowing what to do.
Meanwhile on the set that’s been built in Melania’s First Lady bu dour…
Yuri is doing a very convincing voice imitation of Trump, “Q is saying Kamala first dines on babies before bull whipping a naked Biden –”
Bannon shouts, “Cut!”
“Ghost of Khrushchev! What was wrong with that one, Comra — Steve?” sobs Yuri.
“Be stronger. Trump may not be bright but he’s an amazing leader,” says Bannon, getting up in Yuri’s face.
“Agree with you… on the not bright part. Haha.”
“I don’t need your fucking opinion. I need a stronger Trump!”
“Before I do take 20 here, answer me a question, or no more takes.” coyly offers Yuri,
“I noticed, Steve, you were fired on — ”
“Quit not fired.”
“OK, so you quit August 2017 and then, presto, October 2017, Q makes their first post on the web.”
Bannon sighs in frustration.
“And then there are clues in your name.”
“I know how to spell my fucking name!”
“Replace the B in your name with a Q and you have QAnnon!”offers Yuri, immensely pleased with his conspiracy theory.
“QAnon is spelled with two Ns after the A, not three, Cocka.”
“There’s no need to call me a dummy in my mother tongue!”
Bannon pulls a gun and shouts at the trembling Yuri, “The script! Stronger! Action!”
Melania burst into her bedroom and Bannon spins to see who has barged in and his pistol accidentally goes off. BANG!
A rapidly spreading dot of blood appears over Melani’s heart on her pristine white dress.
Melania softly says, “Tell Donald I love him.” and then she falls to Steve’s feet.
Steve takes Melania’s pulse, “Oh fuck. She’s as dead as Trump’s brother Robert!” croaks Bannon.
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 8 – TRUMPTOPIA
A big thanks once again to my talented wife Elizabeth England for playing all the female parts in this 2021 reading.
As always my handy disclaimer that this story is of course a work of pure fiction about an alternate universe. It is in no way a true reflection of the kind and compassionate real-life Donald J Trump, and his charming GOP enablers or the supposed good guys in this dark comedic tale.
Whoa! Alternate reality President Arnold Schwarzenegger is here and wants a word with you!
Listen up, America! My good friend Ken Sheetz is busting his flabby ass to bring you laughs and wild adventures, in a time of sorrow; to show you just how fucked up your world can be if you don’t defeat your Trump once and for all, along with all the lying losers in the GQP! Donate at the link below for the coolest in stories and meditations, you cheap bastards!
Since April 2020 I’ve been developing TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM, hosted temporarily here on my meditation blog, as a warts and all work-in-progress. Warning violent content and explicit language ahead. Whadya expect from a Trump nightmare were still trapped in?
And speaking of nightmares: Trump is about to have a Black Lives Matter nightmare, which of course bears very little similarity to reality.
Chapter 6 – Trump’s Worst Nightmare
Meanwhile, one timeline away, in July of 2020, an alternate universe’s Trump has been struck with a deadly case of Coronavirus and is lost in a delusional series of fever dreams. Kinda like our own Trump does with his eyes wide open.
Dr. Faucci makes a deep incision in Trump’s throat. Blood trickles, crossing the orange tan line where Trump’s bloated chest meets his saggy neck.
Faucci says, “OK, I’ve successfully made the incision to avoid the President’s damaged throat tissue, caused by drinking bleach. Insert the ventilator tube, Dr. Edwards of you will.”
Dr. Edwards takes over the operation and Faucci heads for the door, wiping sweat from his furrowed brow.
Ivanka, sporting the latest Paris fashion Covid mask, rises to her feet along with the mask wearing Jared when Dr. Faucci exits the surgery room. She asks nervously, “Doctor Faucci, is Daddy going to be OK?”
Dr. Faucci sighs deeply and wipes sweat from his forehead, “A tracheotomy is a relatively easy procedure. My real concern is that your father hid his catching virus for too long. And, well, the bleach.”
“That’s no answer, Tony!” blurts Jared, his normally high pitched feeble voice nearly inaudible beneath his red, white and blue mask.
Dr. Faucci ignores Jared and calmly addresses Ivanka, “Your father’s odds of a recovery are quite low. And even if he does ever recover, he may be in a mentally reduced to the condition of a moron —
“Reduced?” mutters Jared,
“- where he can no longer serve as president,” finishes Fauci.
Ivanka spins to pound Jared’s tiny chest.
In the adjacent operating room, dead to the real world, Trump does not stir on the operating table as Dr. Edwards carefully inserts a respirator air tube through Faucci’s tracheotomy incision. The operating room fades from view as the White House Bunker fades into view…
Nestled in the safely of his bunker beneath the White House, the real world a forgotten memory, Trump offers his best presidential poker face as his advisors wrangle with a new series of more violent BLM protests.
Larry Kudlow gasps as on the big screen an array of BLM protestors use a stolen city bus to flatten the White House fence. The angry mob charges the heavily armed Secret Service Agents.
Mark Meadows says, “Relax, Larry. Our troops learned in Portland how to put these dogs to sleep.”
“Relax? This is revolution! And we all know what happens to the player in an old regime, especially one as cruel as ours,” croaks Larry.
Trump laughs at Larry and says, “Chill, Larry. Theses walls of the vault are 6 feet thick, or something like that kinda thickness. Tremendously thick. And we have all the comforts of home here. The best champagne. The best caviar.”
On screen the Federal Troops lay down their weapons as the angry mob races past them.
“What in Holy Hell?!” shouts Trump, cracking one of TV screens with his tiny fists.
The Director of the Secretive Service, James Murray, calmly says to the shocked Trump, “Not to worry, sir. Like you just said, in your genius way, the protesters cannot possibly reach us down here.”
“Protest? You call this fucking protest.?” bellows Trump.
“Look, sir. The lowlifes have zero chance!” shouts Stephen Miller, making a Nazi salute, which he fakes into a stretch.
“Let’s get back to talking about my fantastic Mt. Rushmore monument to the greatest presidency ever! Mine! Tell me about getting head, Kayleigh.”
The men all laugh at Trump’s sexist joke, while Kayleigh does her best to hide her disgust. She rolls over a model of Mt Rushmore into the bunker conference room. “Mr. President, I’m afraid the Rushmore survey ream has determined that there is not enough structural integrity to the surrounding rock to add your incredible face.”
“I am not happy about this, Kayleigh!” grumps Trump, folding his arms across his big belly.
“It’s OK, Mr. President. We have a solution…” Kayleigh loses her train of thought as on the big screen protestors fall and die under heavy gunfire from a more resistant line of White House defense. But an endless stream bat wielding protestors take their place in the bloody battle for the White House above.
“Go on Kayleigh. Don’t worry about the losers up there. Nigger scum,” snarls Trump.
“Well I see a lot of white people with these guys,” says Kudlow.
“The losers can’t reach us. Go on, Kayleigh. Give me some head!” chuckles Trump.
Mastering her outrage Kayleigh says, “Well, it’s simple. All we have to do is re-chisel one of the four heads into your amazing image. All that remains is for you to pick who to replace with your handsome face. Who shall it be, Mr. President, Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt or Lincoln, sir?”
Trump relishes at this historic decision making moment, spinning around and around in his larger life leather chair, and finally decreeing,”Q-Anon calls me the greatest civil rights leader of all time. Lowest unemployment for Blacks ever. Well, before the Covid started killing them off like flies. So I pick to replace the head of Abraham Lincoln head with mine. My base will love it and my haters can eat shit and die.”
Meadows offers obsequiously, “Brilliant as always, sir! It’s true you have supplanted Lincoln in the hearts of the people after all!”
The gathering of white men, plus one frustrated woman in Kayleigh, give Trump a standing ovation.
For a split-second Trump is back in the real world. Trump’s heartbeat stops on the monitor. Dr. Fauci takes up shock paddles and shouts, “Clear!” and jolts Donald Trump.
Shocked back into his bunker fever dream, Trump points at the security monitor and bellows, “What?! Those rioters, they’re in my Oval office!”
Trump and his team watch helplessly as the security TV screen shows a rush of protestors of all races and creeds swarming into the Oval Office
Trump demands, “Murray, set off the self-destrust bomb and blow the fucking Antifa anarchists off the face of the earth!”
Murray pleadingly turns to Meadows, who coldly nods for him to carry out Trump’s command. “You heard the president.”
Turning to the monitors, where the Resolute Desk is being set aflame, Murray anguishes and finally croaks, “I respectfully decline to carry out your orders to blow up the protestors, sir. You have my resignation.”
Trump spins to Defense Secretary Esper and roars, “Esper, wipe out these fucking terrorists!”
“These are American citizen’s, Mr. President. They can’t reach us in here. I respectfully refuse and resign as well,”
“Where are my Portland shock and awe troops?!” shouts Miller.
“In transit to Milwaukee I believe,” answers Meadows.
“Well, get them here to DC pronto! — Seen this Tweet?” says Trump, jamming a cell phone in Miller’s sweaty face.
The gaggle white men crowd around Trump’s cell phone that reads:
“Lynch the #BunkerBaby!”
“The bastards are calling me BunkerBaby! Even after I crushed them in Lafayette Square!”
“Um, my mom taught me sticks and stones may break –”, says Robert Tulsa before he’s cut off.
“Shut the fuck up! Sergeant Cosco, escort these traitors my bunker!” shouts Trump pointing at the TV screen.
“Name’s Tulsa. Mr. President, and I am afraid Mr. Esper and Mr. Murray cannot leave as we are sealed in.”
“Look, COSCO. No one’s in the hallway!” shouts Trump pointing at the TV screen.
“But, sir, the 2 ton door operates slowly, by the time we see rioters we could be….”
“Break the seal!” demands Trump.
“– fucked.” finishes Sergeant Tulsa. “The door moves slowly. You could be killing us all.”
Trump defiantly pushes the open button and gloats, “Fuck off. You’re Black. Obviously, you’re in on this with them. You want something done right you gotta, um, something something or other.”
Miller takes charge, “Seargent, remove, Esper and Murray from my bunker or you’re up for a firing squad!”
“Pussy. I told ya. Look. It’s all clear.” gloats Trump. “You see. You’ve got nothing to fear but it something… We have nothing to fear but, ah.. Oh, fuck it!”
Gunfire erupts as mob of rioters race up the long hall for the bunker door.
“Seal the bunker! Seal the bunker!” shouts Trump.
BANG! Sergeant Tulsa falls to the marble floor, a bullet hole in the center of his forehead.
Kayliegh shouts to the mob, “Power to the people! I am not with the dictator, sexist, racist Trump anymore! I’m free! Yay!”
The laughing protestors get such a kick out of Trump’s sad reaction to Kayleigh’s betrayal they let her slip away.
An angry Black man races up to a screaming Trump and raises a bloody hatchet.
Trump begs on his knees, “Black lives matter! Praise Jesus! Black lives matter! Spare me! I’ll sign any law you want!”
Trump curls into a ball and weeps like a baby sucking his thumbs, eyes slammed shut, waiting for a death blow.
The angry black man laughs saying, “Pathetic!” He plants the axe in Trump’s throat. Exactly where the incision in the real world. Blood gushes and all goes black. Faintly, the beep of a life monitor gets louder and Trump’s eyes flicker open.
Thrilled to be back in the real world where he is on life support, Trump cracks open his eyes to see his loyal personal Black attendant Robert reading the newspaper beside his hospital bed. Trump’s bloodshot feverish eyes close.
We see Robert’s Washington Post’s headline reads:
PRESIDENT CONTRACTS CORONA VIRUS. LIFE HANGS BY A THREAD!
To be continued in Chapter 7 – Weekend at Trumpies
Special thanks to my wife Elizabeth for playing Kayleigh and Ivanka.
As always my handy disclaimer that this is of course a work of pure fiction about an alternate universe. It is in no way a true reflection of the kind and compassionate real-life Donald Trump, and his charming GOP enablers, or for that matter, the supposed good guys in this dark comedic tale.
Phew. It takes months to make these audio recordings. Donate at the link below to keep my one of a kind quantum space time meditational auditory entertainment and enlightening content flowing.
Seven years ago the world lost one of it greatest actors and comedians of our time when Robin Williams chose to take his own life. The devastating news came without any sort of clear warning signals. A public outcry of grief and mourning erupted across the world that had not seen since the shocking death of Princess Diana.
Last week my wife and I had coffee with Robin, at least as my writer’s brain, happening for seven years now, likes to envision his brilliant light still shinning from the afterlife. Over java I asked Robin’s spirit what he thinks of our Covid crisis and here’s what I imagine he had to say on the matter.
Hey Groovy Gals and Guys,
Holy shit. This would all be funny if it were not so damn tragic, folks. People are literally dying because politicians, my brother and sisters in the media and regular people on social media are fabricating stories. All in a feeble effort to make them seem more important than they actually are with more clicks and eyes. In the end this toxic BS is simply to sell everything from donations to snake oil cure to tennis shoes to precious metals to crypt o-currencies.
Worst part is it done by appealing to the worst in human nature; a crusty old white man who lives in fear in our noggins. It’s gross gross negligence to plant fear in people’s hearts on a money-making scale never seen or felt before.
Now, I am sure many of you who were fans of my movies did not like every damn thing I acted in. You only watched the ones you liked, right? GOODWILL HUNTING over MAN OF THE YEAR (MOTY) let’s say. MOTY being one of my films that should have worked that didn’t. In fact, if you judged my career based on MOTY you mot not be here.
Treat all the Tuckers, Johnsons, Bezoses, Hannitys the same way. You are the master of your own story-verese. You pick and choose your reality. Take a pinch of reality from the blue and a spritz from the red. Stay balanced in a unbalanced AF world.
Time to stop listening the BS artists. Truth is love. Be smart. Get vaccinated.
King of the Star Fish Nation
Robin’s kidding about the king thing But I do still see my vision of Robin — likely just a part of my beautiful imagination as I can’t bare he left us so soon — is reincarnated as a starfish. The starfish nation is a a nueral network for the planet Robin has explained to me.
Shameless plug. Read my far out sci-fi comedy set in another universe, Trump’s Fever Dream, using the pull-down menu above to access all 12, and counting, chapters. If I lifted your spirits please make a donation to keep more Williams visitations, new TFD chapters and cool cold style radio show audio coming.
Greetings from the road in Denver. My wife Elizabeth and I, plus our rescue dog, are on the homestretch of a love-packed race across America to reconnect with friends and family before the anti-maskers and anti-vaxers, rapidly spreading the Delta variant, shut down America again. So, it seems oddly appropriate to post my rewrite of my April 2020 Chapter 4 at a break in the journey home.
TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM is set in a dark comedic alternate universe, where another Trump caught Covid about 6 months before our own Big Lie fostering leader. A stupid occurrence in our parallel reality that no one had to be psychic to predict.
This grotesque alternate Trump-iverse, just one timeline away, is set in the year 2020 and time travels to the year 2022. Curious what the hell I mean? Read chapters 1-3 to understand better my BACK TO THE FUTURE meets INCEPTION kind of mind-bending science fiction back-story, or just plow on. All chapters are written to stand alone if that’s your preference.
The Covid death toll of this even scarier reality, where we reach a civil war by chapter 12 — read that in the pull down menu above — has reached 3 million and counting. Tragically, like our reality, Trump takes no responsibility for his abysmal handling of Covid.
In fact, both Hitler-loving Trumps seem to thrive on how the virus tends to kill off more Black people, while it divides the rest of us suckers and losers, as he sees all Americans. But, that’s all about to change for alternate reality Trump in chapter 4 when Covid mutates into a zombie apocalypse.
Warning, violent explicit content ahead when many GQP heroes of this alternate universe, like Ted Cruz, Mitch McConnell, Christie Noem, Tucker Carlson, and more, go full zombie and make the dumbass mistake of attacking President Arnold Schwarzenegger.
We now join…
Chapter 4 Redux – Dancing With Spicer and Schwarzenegger
Meanwhile, one timeline away… Trump has caught Covid-19 and is trapped in a series of ever more delirious fever dreams, just as we all are on this timeline.
Trump’s Black body man, Robert Tulsa, runs back into the Presidential bedroom where President Trump has collapsed of Covid. He stops dead in his tracks shocked to see Trump strangling on a bed sheet twisted around his neck.
Robert hesitates rescuing the choking Trump. “Lord Jesus guide me on what to do,” prays Robert.
We enter his right eye, travel down Trump’s optic nerve, and enter his Adderall befuddled mind…
Trump’s twisted view of the deranged Hilary Clinton, strangling him in the White Hospital, in the Covid devastated future of 2022, where the death count has reached 3 million lost Americans, fades into the darkness of death.
Off in the distance, a small yellow speck sparkles in the distance.
Trump looks down at himself, happy to see he’s out of his paper hospital gown and spiffed up in his favorite blue power suit, complete with his clownishly long red tie. He’s surprised to see he’s wearing shinny red vinyl dancing shoes that match his hilarious orange afro.
The bouncing yellow speck grows in size to form a Marimba dancer, complete with Carmen Miranda’s famed fruit hat. The dancer rockets up to Trump, who is stunned to see the dancer is none other than Sean Spicer… in Marimba drag!
Sean sweeps Trump into a passionate dance. Trump laughs and says, “Learned a few things on Dancing With the Stars, Spicey, I see.”
“Touche!” shouts Spicer, spinning Trump like a rolly-polly punching doll.
“Enough!” growls Trump. A crowd of thousands of red hatted MAGA rally goers cheer wildly. Trump does a bow and the crowd goes absolutely ape shit. Spicer gracefully takes Trump back into the dance.
“Welcome back, sir. Oh, look who we have for dance judges!” sings Sean.
Trump notices the dance judges are none other than the nine members of the Supreme Court. Bret Kavenugh sneaks a swig of beer and flashes Trump a thumbs up. While Ruth Bader Ginsberg blows a raspberry.
Trump grouses, “Fuck this. I will not dance for the likes of Ruth Libtard Ginsberg.”
Trump struggles free himself of the dancing Spicer, but the smaller man is supernaturally strong.
“Let’s Marimba!” sings Sean. He yanks Trump by his long red tie down to his eye level and whisper sings in Trump’s ear, “You don’t understand, sir. Sing and dance or the judges will give you a death sentence.”
“Death sentence?!” says Trump.
“Afraid a lot has changed since you vanished two years ago, sir. Dance like your life depends on it. Because it does!”
Across the shinny black stage for the Fox & Friends team provide color commentary as the crowd of Trump fans continue to adore their returned king.
“Good evening, America! 5,000 plus Trump fans are here tonight at the Miami’s Hard Rock Sports Stadium to welcome back the great President Donald Trump!” says Doocy with a big silly grin to the Fox cameras.
The cheering crowd waves Trump 2024 flags and shout “Welcome back, President Trump!”
“Lots of GOP VIPs here tonight too,” adds Kilmead. The cameras point to Senator Ted Cruz, Governor Christi Noem, and the usual GQP suspects.
“Oh my God, Trump is an amazing dancer and his new hair style is revolutionary.” says Ainsley giggling about Trump’s orange afro.
“Any minute now we expect President Schwarzenegger to arrive. But here comes his Vice President Chris Christie. A word Chris?” says Ducey.
“Sure,” says Chris as he signs an autograph from a sweet old woman with a MAGA hat. “What’s your name, hon?”
“Mindy!” chirps the sweet old lady. Veep Christie signs with a flourish, collects a smooch and turns to Doocy.
“How does President Schwarzenegger feel about the mysterious return of President Trump?” says Doocy.
“Well, after President Trump was declared dead after he vanished two years ago, a lot of Trump’s unfinished work has fallen on Arnold’s big shoulders,” says Vice President Christie.
“Ha ha. Not an answer, Chris.” teases Kilmead.
“With three million dead of Covid, rumors of a new DeSantis variant that’s attacking the white community, now might be a good time for you to drop the smart-ass routine, Kill-mead.”
“Any truth to rumors of a new zombie variant?” says Ainsley batting her eyes flirtatiously.
“Zombie variant? Q shit?” chides a concerned Vice President Christie.
“Hmm. No comment,” demurs Ainsley.
“I’ll close by saying, President Schwarzenegger and I are in total agreement that my old pal Trump has a lot to answer for when it comes to the three million and counting death toll and dangerous new variant that ravaged America until President Schwarzenegger stepped in,” says Vice President Christie.
“Are you saying, Mr Vice President, that President Schwarzenegger is going to ask the DOJ investigate Trump’s handling of the pandemic?” asks Doocy, hoping for a scoop.
Without answering, Christie slowly turns away from the Fox & Friends trio and strides, whistling, for the VIP box. Mitch McConnell beckons to the VP to a saved seat between himself and a selfie taking Tucker Carlson.
“Swell. I’m stuck between the Russian turtle and and Tucker the fucker,” mutters VP Christie to himself.
Trump yelps as Sean yanks his red tie so hard that he sends Trump spinning like pinball into a giant pinball machine set. Trump — a red, white and blue blur — hits a bumper that lights up:
IMPEACHMENT FARCE – Ding, Ding, Ding!
Trump flies, screaming towards more bumpers that light up in rapid succession as he rolls into and off them.
3 MILLION DEAD OF COVID! – Bong!
WORST PRESIDENT EVER – Bing, Bing, Bong, Bong!
CHEATS ON PREGNANT WIFE WITH A PORN STAR – Dong, Ding!
TAX CHEAT – Wha-Err-Err!
BRIBE-O-RAMA – Cha-ching! Cha-chong!
RELIGIOUS FAKE – Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
BLEACH DRINKER – BOOM! BAM!- GAME OVER!
Bursting from a cloud of smoke, Trump tumbles down the giant pinball machine set and falls on his orange face to the black shinny stage floor. Trump struggles to his two left feet. All to the wild applause of red capped MAGA rally goers.
In the stands, Governor Noem says softly, “His fans still love him.”
“Schwartzengger’s in deep trouble if Trump seeks to be reinstalled.” chuckles Mitch.
Trump sees himself dancing with Sean on the Jumbotron screen, “How the fuck did I end up with a damn orange, afro?” says Trump as he tries to pull off the wig. “Damn it! This clown wig is stuck!”
“Oh, don’t worry, sir. Your new fro is gorgeous,” sings Sean.
A pipsqueak of a zombie usher, with the name tag Jerry, emerges at the top of the stands. Jerry the zombie usher hungrily eyes a burly Hell’s Angels biker and leaps upon his back. Jerry chomps the biker’s tattooed shoulder. The biker yelps and instantly transforms to a fellow zombie. Biker and usher go to bloody work making more zombies.
Clueless to the instant zombie apocalypse racing through the five thousand strong crowd. Trump bows and gloats, “Yeah! I still got it, Spicey!” shouts Trump, beaming a million watt smile in the spotlight to his Trumpies… who are rapidly turning into a zombie horde.
“Look at me! Look at me tap, tap, tap. The best tapper ever. The most super epic tap dancer who ever tapped a tune!” signs the off-key and bad dancer Trump.
In the stands, Sweet old lady Mindy is bitten and transform in the blink of a bloodshot eye into a flesh eating zombie. She hungrily eyes Vice President Chris Christie as he flees the VIP zombies. “Stay away from me, Tucker. Stay away.!” shouts the terrified Christie. The old lady leaps forty feet into the air and chomps into the screaming Veep’s fat leg.
The applauding crowd of now 90% freshly minted zombie Trumpies still have the love of Trump in their eyes.
“We love Trump! We love Trump!” says the zombie horde as one.
Sean panics and yanks Trump back into the Marimba and whisper sings, “The judges hate your tap dancing!”
“Well, I didn’t pick Brett and Neil for their good taste.”
“But the crowd… something seems terribly wrong.” .
“You worry to much, Spicer. Remember how you gave yourself an goddamn ulcer when I told you, ‘Tell the presser that my inauguration crowd was the largest ever?’” laughs Trump.
Trump and Spicey quick-turn away from the crowd an instant before a wave of biting and grotesque zombie transformations races through the audience stands behind them.
“Oh no! Look at Moscow Mitch! He’s zombie!”
“Relax. Mitch always looks like a fucking zombie,” pants Trump.
The curtains part and none other President Arnold Schwarzenegger struts onto the stage, a bevy of beauties on each arm and says warmly, “Donald, it’s so good to see you. I can’t believe what a good tap dancer you are! I’m sorry the judges don’t like it. I thought it was awesome, man.”
“So you think president now, huh?” grouses Trump.
“Oh, Donald, you’re always so funny.
Two high-fiving Trump zombies leap iknock each others arms off.
“But you weren’t born in America. How can you be president?” demands the clueless Trump.
“Because the people needed me, Donald. They needed me after your terrible presidency.”
“Well, I’m back now. Doesn’t that mean I’m president?” angles Trump.
“I’m afraid not, Donald.”
“I’m going to into the audience now, with your wonderful followers. Oh, wait… they’re all zombies.” says Arnold in shock.
Zombie Representative Jim Jordan dives for Arnold. But Arnold swings a folding chair an knocks zombie Jordan’s ugly head off and says, “Wrestle that!”
“You killed my Congressional hatchet man, you mother fucker!”
President Schwarzenegger watches in shock as his bevy of beauties are devoured by Trump zombies and says softly, “We are in great danger. Very quietly we speak.”
“What?” shouts the hard of hearing Trump.
“Quiet, you fool! They’ll hear you!”
“MAGA, MAGA, MAGA, “says a badly decaying Trump Zombie, who looks like she may have once might been South Dakota Governor Kristi Noem.
“Whoa! That you, Kristi?” asks Trump.
“Donald, no!” shouts Arnold, spinning Trump to face him as the zombie Trumpers grow hungrier and more restless.
“Relax, Terminator. These are my fans. Nothing to worry about!” chides Trump. Her biker chic biker’s outfit dripping blood, Noem stalks Trump.
“Donald, Duck!” says Arnold pulling a .357 Magnum.
“Hey! I’m no cartoon –“
“Duck you fool !” shouts Arnold shoving Trump to the floor. Bang! Governor Noem’s head explodes.
Arnold gloats, “Consider this a recall!”
“Swell. There goes my shot at Mt. Rushmore.”
“Oh, you’re going to take the place of Lincoln, huh?” quips Arnold.
“Go to hell! She was a Republican!”
Arnold picks off a zombie that’s come too close. BANG!
“Republican? Donald, they’re a bunch of flesh eating zombies! Your Goddamn handling of the virus caused a mutation!”
“It is what it is,” says Trump with a shrug. “I’m still taking you court where Neil and Brett owed me!”
“Look at the Supreme Court. They’re insane! They got this hive mind! And they’re going to blow us up if we’re not careful!” shouts President Schwarzenegger, taking aim.
As if on cue, laser beams shoot from Gorsuch’s eyes. But the shot at Arnold misses and instead slices Brett Kavenaugh in two. Kavenaugh says, “Ha! Ha! Split decision.” Kavenaugh’s cut in two body comes apart with a sickening slurp.
“Fuck! There goes the conservative majority,” bitches Trump.
“Mr. President, so yummy, yummy,” says a sweet looking female zombie.
“So tasty. Like a big blo0d orange,” says a male zombie in a fuck Hillary T-shirt.
“Oh-oh. Your Trumpies are looking at you like you’re a goddamn Happy meal!” warns Arnold.
“You’re just jealous because my fans love me. They love me!”
“Look, they think you’re delicious!” shouts President Schwarzenegger. BANG!
“Trump can I have a selfie?” says a Proud Boy zombie.
“Sure,” says Trump.
“Are you insane? Run, you goddamn fool!” BANG! Arnold blows the zombie Proud Boy away and yanks Trump into a run.
A zombie that looks like he used to be either Ted Cruz or the Wolverine steps slowly for Trump, “Hamburders. So good. He’s full of hamburders.” Cruz roars as he dives for Trump.
BANG! Arnold blows Cruz’s head off.
“Have a nice cruise.”
“Why you gotta do that?” grouses Trump.
“Make a wisecrack every time you shoot somebody?” pouts Trump.
“It’s my trademark. Get over it Donald!” shouts Arnold.
Arnold’s good shooting frees Ruth Bader Ginsberg from the Supreme Court hive mind. Gorsuch fires another laser blast at Ruth. BANG! Arnold blows Thomas’ head off.
“Guess he’ll never be head of the supreme court.”
“Thanks, you big hunk of hero!” says Ruth blowing a kiss to Aronold as she exits the giant sound stage. But Trump and Arnold are blocked by the hundreds of angry zombie Trumpies.
“Dear God I smell something awful. Wait… Have you pooped your pants, Donald?”
“Stop ordering me around, Schwarzenegger! I’m the real fucking president!” barks Trump just as zombie Mitch McConnell dives, green teeth bared, for Trump’s neck.
“Oh, it’s you, Donald. I must tell you the greatest regret I have of my career is that I was not able to defeat Obamacare for you,” sobs McConnell as he dives for Trump. Blood splatters Donald.
“Now ya did it!” shouts Trump.
“Putin’s gonna be pissed you killed Moscow Mitch!”
“Shut up and move, you out of shape hamburger brain! Now! Now! Now!” shouts President Schwarzenegger, shoving Trump into a maze set of mirrored walls, the Trump zombie horde hot on their heels.
“I had way, way better ratings on The Apprentice than you did, Arnold!” gripes Trump.
“Fuck you, Donald. Go right!” says President Schwarzenegger. But Trump comes to a stubborn stop. ” Go right,I said! You love right don’t you?”
The mindless Trump zombies are lost in the maze, buying the duo a bit of time .
Trump pants and says badly out of breath, “Wow. I’d be more scared if these zombies were black.”
“The Trump variant of the virus only makes White people into zombies, Donald. Thanks a lot.”
“Damn Chinese,” quips Trump.
“Pathetic! I hope some day when you have passed, Donald, hopefully of the covid you allowed to spread and mutate, that scientists crack open your thick skull and study what makes you the greatest racist in world history!” says Arnold running into the maze.
“Enough! I ain’t budging until you agree that I am the rightful president, Schwarzenegger,” pouts Trump.
“I inherited a shit-hole US of A when you abandoned ship in 2020. For two years I’ve been cleaning up your Goddamn mess and I am so done with this! So fuck you! Fuck you, Donald you’re on your own!” says Arnold running off into the maze.
Trump shouts after Arnold, “Foreigner! I was twice — Uh oh!” Trump’s tirade is cut short as the Trump zombie horde spin around the corner behind close in his heels. Trump spins and say, “My brave, Trump fans! Halt!” says Trump making a Nazi salute.
The Trump zombies all freeze in their tracks and return Trump’s Nazi salute shouting, “Heil, Trump! Heil Trump!”
High above, perched in the rafters, watching the show, the angel winged ghost of Martin Luther King passes a bag of ghostly popcorn to the ghost of LBJ and says sadly, “All I can say, Lyndon, is I’m glad Trump’s not one of my flock”
LBJ says, “Well, the orange clown sure as hell ain’t one of my flock either, Martin.” frowning down on the Trump zombies offering Trump a Nazi salute.
The maze, seen from this ghostly high vantage point, is a horrific collection of interwoven Nazi symbols.
Meanwhile, on the glossy sound stage floor in the maze below, a zombie, who was once Tucker Carlson, steps from the zombie horde,” Mr. President…” groans zombie Tucker.
“That you, Tucker? Wow. Good to see you, man,” says Trump happily.
Zombie Tucker nods and says sheepishly, “Ah, I’m sorry, sir.”
“Sorry for what, Tuck?”
“Well… You look great.”
“Thanks, Tuck. You… not so great.” says Trump sheepishly.
“I’m so hungry, sir. All the Big Macs you packed away. — Sorry, sir. I gotta eat you!” Tucker races from the crowd of Trump zombies for Trump.
“Tucker, you’re canceled.” BANG! “Come with me, Donald if you want to live!”
“Wait. Where have I heard that line?
FUCK YOU! THIS IS NOT A GOD DAMN TRIVA SHOW!”
“Hey, I’ve got Proud Boys who will beat the living shit out of you for speaking to me in such a rude -“
“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! I think I found a way out.”
“No. I love my fans.”
The Trump zombies all smile at Trump suddenly.
“See? My Trumpies… Wait a minute… I have a zombie army!” says Trump.
“What the hell did America ever see in you?” shouts Arnold as he dashes off again.
The red capped zombies begin to inch for Trump. “Stop!” shouts Trump again, doing his Nazi salute. But the zombies pick up speed. Not much, but they do pick up speed. Trump freezes in his tracks as the zombies claw over each other.
Suddenly, Spicer appears from nowhere to the rescue. “So grateful! You’re safe, sir! The Trump zombies listen and obey my song!” sings Spicer, thrusting his pelvis. “Halt! You fabulous bastards!”
Before Trump can say another word a badly overweight zombie leaps upon Sean Spicer. “Not the hat! Don’t touch the hat!” screams Sean. And rips him to shreds, splattering Trump is Sean’s blood. “Chris?”
“It’s always about the bridge. The bridge…” mutters zombie VP Chris Christie.
A horribly deformed Vice President Chris Christie spots Trump just as Trump spots him.
“Chris, is that you?” says Trump.
“You! You gave me Covid, you stupid bastard! Now we gotta eat your delicious ass! Dinner’s served, gang!” says zombie Chris Christie as he dives for Trump… and Trump somehow easily dodges Christie.
Trump easily keeps dodging as he taunts, “Slowpokes. Always did prefer the movies where the zombies are slow as fuck. Whoa! Gotta tweet that!” says Trump pulling out his cell phone and tweeting as he runs through the blood soaked mirror maze. “I love my twitter. Love Facebook even more. Yeah, social media. That’s where I get all my power and I got the tech nerds wrapped around my gigantic little finger.”
Christie dives for Trump and misses.
“Gettin’ tired yet Christie? You are one slow as fuck of zombie. Hahahahaha!”
Trump far behind, Arnold dashes through the maze. He stops to look at himself in the mirrored wall of the maze and says to his reflection, “For as old as fuck as I am right now, I still look better than –,” A zombie wearing a cheese hat jumps out in front of Arnold, waving an AK-47. Very slowly of course. Arnold gets the drop on him and BANG! Arnold notices the zombie he just shot is wearing a Congressional pin. “Oh, fuck. I think I just shot Ron Johnson.” Arnold yanks the machine gun from Johnson cold dead hand and says, “Oh well. No loss.”
The cocky Trump turns the corner and stops dead in his tracks facing his greatest enemy… a long… long… “RAMP. This is it. Impossible. No one could make it down. I’m finished,” croaks Trump as the slow moving zombie horde closes in on the frozen Trump. “This is it for me.”
“My brother President, I am here to save you!” shouts Arnold mass executing zombies with the AK-47 he took off Ron Johnson.
“You’re not my brother President. You’re a foreigner. You’re not president.”
“Goddamnit. Let me save you, you stupid fuck!” says Arnold as he easily runs down the ramp. “Baby steps, Donald. Try baby steps.”
Trump waddles down the ramp, slow as shit.
“Oh my God! What is it with you and ramps?” says Arnold sending dozens of zombie to their graves.
“Do not fucking rush me, Schwarzenegger. I will not end up with a hip surgery!”
“Hip surgery? You need a brain surgery!” shouts Arnold, picking off ten Congressmen zombies closing in on Trump with the AK-47. “And you’re welcome for my saving you.”
Foreigner! I’m the president!”
“Hurry! I don’t have unlimited bullets here, you know!” shouts Arnold, polishing off a baker’s dozen of Trump zombies.
Trump finally makes it to the bottom of the ramp. Trump fast walks with his arms as he slow walks with his feet.
“You’re not fooling anyone with that ‘fuck you’ walk of yours, Donald”
The equally slow moving zombie Christie reemerges from the Trump zombie horde. Trump shouts at Arnold, “Well, what are you waiting for? Shoot him!”
“I will not shoot my goddamn Vice President. You’re on your own, Donald. Again!” says Arnold running off into the maze.
“Let’s cut this fat orange fuck down to size, boys and girls. He’s had so many Fish Fillets we can all feast on one of his chubby thighs for a week!” shouts Christie. The growing zombie horde becomes more determined, as they slowly move for Trump, who is quickly running out of maze.
Trump finally gets it and runs as fast as his fat legs can carry him. Trump dodges through the mirrored maze and comes face to face with the entire Fox and Friends gang. The trio of Fox zombies have muted into an 8 foot tall three headed drooling monster.
Trump says nervously, “Hey, hey, how you three doin’? Whoa! Love that new look. It shouts GOP unity!”
The Fox and Friends giant Zombie rips the orange clown afro wig off Trump’s head, leaving Trump completely bald.
The deformed head of Doccy does all the talking,”You, fucking evil clown! You made us lie about the Covid every Goddamn day. You’ve killed us! You’ve killed the world! Get him!”
Trump pulls off his long red tie and forms a silk lasso. Trump’s red lasso swirls and snags the not so friendly Fox & Friends. Trump dashes off, amazingly light on his feet for such a fat man.
“Sir, lie to us! We love your lies,” shouts Ainsley, despite angry glares from the heads of Kilmead and Doccy.
Trump freezes in his tracks and riffs, “OK… How’s this one? The Chinese vaccines caused to mutation that made you sweethearts into a three-head giant zombie, not me!”
The tied up trio all confer with each other, speaking in some kind of weird zombie language. Ducey says, “Breaking News! “Trump and the other zombies watch Doocy with great anticipation. “Kill this lying sack of shit!”
The tied up Fox and Friends zombies, followed in slow pursuit by Christie. The zombie smash in side of mirror. Glass flies as Trump tap dances away.
Trump loses the zombies in the maze again. He comes upon President Schwarzenegger desperately pondering a series of five doors, labeled in neon with the years 2020 though 2024. “This is your show, Donald! We only have seconds to pick which door!”
Trump slowly walks up the pentagonal formation of doors, “Well, 2024 looks good because I can easily defeat you in a rigged election.”
“I already tried that door, you fool. It’s locked!” shouts Arnold as the sound of the zombies gets closer.
“Well, 2021 then. I’ll have won the election against you, even that fucker Biden.” says Trump with a smirk, opening then door. But Trump is stunned to see a angry mob of red capped insurrectionists, chasing Mike Pence as they shout, “Hang Mike Pence! Hang Mike Pence!” Trump slams the 2021 door shut and says, “What the fuck was that?”
“Oh, just some of your Proud Boys you’re so proud of!” grouses President Schwarzenegger.
Trump zombies, some of whom Trump saw at the glimpse of insurrection before they were zombie, spin around the corner.
“Time is up asshole! Pick another door!” barks Schwarzenegger as he mows down the endless supply of Trump zombies.
Trump yanks open the 2022 door and comes face to face with a fat zombie Mike Pence. “Donald?”
“Mikey? Haha. So good to see you, buddy,” says Trump hiding his terror.
“The insurrection. Why did you send the Trumpie insurrectionists to hang me on January 6th?” says Pence.
“Uh, must be some kinda antifa trick. I’d never sick my Trumpies on you, buddy. Not me. I’m from 2020! We never had the insurrection. I swear, Mike!”
Pence scowls, “Huh. Why don’t I believe you, Donald?” He unhooks his jaw and swallows Trump whole.
“Mother Mary of God? — How does he taste, though?” wonders President Schwarzenegger.
Pence burps and says somberly, “Like hamburgers. What else?”
Pence’s gaping maw transforms to Trump’s personal attendant Robert, giving Trump mouth to mouth. “Like breathing into a football!” says Robert out of breath.
The unconscious Trump is back in his White House bedroom in the good old present day April 25, 2020. Jared and Ivanka, dressed to a glittery hilt for a formal dinner, both look on nervously.
Ivanka whispers to Jared, “What in holy hell was daddy singing about? Some kind of hive mind. What was that?”
Jared whispers to the sobbing Ivanka, “Should Robert be reviving your dad?”
“So what if Robert’s black? Father is no racist!” sobs Ivanka loudly enough to interrupt Robert.
“Can you two keep it down for a minute?” says Robert, taking a breath from resuscitating Trump.
“That’s not what I meant. You’re always so critical!’ bitches Jared.
Robert stops mouth to mouthing Trump and says drolly, “Kids, do you mind putting your the universe-revolves-me -white-shit aside for 5 minutes while I –“
“Does OUR father have resuscitation order, Robert?” shouts Jared to the incredulous Robert.
Ivanka beats on Jared’s tiny chest,”JARED! Let Robert try to save Father until the paramedics get here.”
“Ah ha. I get it. Make it look like we care. But seriously, Father dies we take over the presidency ,” whispers Jared to Ivanka, who finally gets it with small nod of collusion.
“Hmm. Robert. Um, does my father have a resuscitation order?”
Robert rolls his eyes at Jared and Ivanka and goes back to saving Trump with mouth to mouth.
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 5 – THE COVID KID
Return with us to the thrilling days of yesteryear in the OId West, when Trump is the sheriff of a small western town divided into Confederate and Union citizens
A big thanks once again to my amazingly talented wife Elizabeth England for playing all the female parts in this 2021 reading. No disrespect to the fallen of Covid intended. I hope you can have a good sense of humor about all this stuff. It’s the only way we can keep sane.
And thank God we’re on the timeline we are where we don’t have the three million dead kind of situation I think we would have had under Trump. I don’t know what the hell he was doing with the Covid, but it really was not working . Kudos to Joe Biden, Kamala and his team for what they’ve done to restore our lives. I’m going to be seeing my grandchildren soon and I’m really excited.
As always my handy disclaimer that this story is of course a work of pure fiction about an alternate universe. It is in no way a true reflection of the kind and compassionate real-life Donald J Trump, and his charming GOP enablers the Supreme Court, or for that matter, the supposed good guys in this dark comedic tale.
Whoa! Alternate reality President Schwarzenegger is here and wants a word with you!
Listen up, America! Help my good friend Ken Sheetz is busting his flabby ass to bring you laughs and wild adventures, in a time of sorrow, to show you just how fucked up your world can be if you don’t defeat your Trump once and for all, and all the lying losers in the GQP! Make a god damn donation, you cheap bastards, to help Ken keep bringing you more chapters and more old-style radio show audio and make sure that… I’ll be back.
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Meanwhile, when we last visited the alternate Trump universe, one timeline away… Trump’s harebrained insurrection succeeded in a wonky as hell overthrow of the rightful US government.
A gruesome house to house battle, dubbed The Blue Civil War, erupted to put the rightful President, Joe Biden, into the Oval office. And has so far cost 396,423 American lives.
Furious his son Don Jr. perished in the opening minutes of the Battle for George Floydland (formerly known as Kenosha), Trump has done the unthinkable — even for him — and ordered a strategic bomber to drop a North Korean tactical nuke, gifted by Kim Jung-un, on the Blue state of Wisconsin.
We now join…
TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM – Chapter 11 – TO NUKE OR NOT TO NUKE KENOSHA THAT IS THE QUESTION
A strategic bomber glides the starry skies over Lake Michigan beneath the full moon. In the bomber cockpit a heated argument rages between the pilot and co-Pilot.
“Orders are orders!” shouts the pilot.
“Not when the fucking order is to nuke a city on American soil for a delusional illegitimate president!” bellows the co-pilot.
Pilot and co-pilot reach for their pistols. BANG! Both shot through the forehead, the dead pilots slump over the bomber’s blood splattered controls. The bomber nose dives into Lake Michigan and sinks for the murky depths.
The desperate bomber crew wrestle to open escape hatches as the cabin rapidly fills with water.
Water flows from an ornate sink tap. Trump brushes his teeth, drowsily gazing at himself in the Presidential bathroom mirror. Trump almost jumps out of his orange skin when his reflection stops brushing and says, “Stop your compulsive brushing and listen up.”
“Not listening! La-la-la! Can’t hear you!” says Trump as angrily brushes his teeth, bleeding gums and all.
Trump’s body man Robert calls out from the bedroom where he is turning down the bed for Trump, “Everything OK, sir?”
“Peachy,” grouses Trump sticking his tongue out at his pissed off reflection and resumes brushing.
“Everything is definitely not ‘peachy’. You fucking ordered a nuclear strike on American soil!” says Trump’s reflection.
“Relax. The bomber sunk off the coast of Milwaukee. Zero casualties.”
“What about the bomber crew?” says the Trump reflection. As he waves his arms the bathroom in the reflection becomes an opulent Mar A Lago bathroom. “Here in my reality, where I bravely called off the insurrection to regroup and keep donations rolling, you’re making me glad about my peaceful strategy. You’re a moron!”
“Who you calling a moron, Moron? Your aborted insurrection was a way, way bigger dud than my sunken bomber.”
Robert finally pokes his smiling Black face into the bathroom, “Damed Adderall’s making you talk to yourself again, sir. Gotta listen –“
Trump yanks Robert into the bathroom and shouts as points to the mirror, “Look! Look with your big Black eyes! See him! There! There’s the pathetic loser Trump from another universe who got his fat ass thrown out of the White House!”
Trump’s reflection laughs spitefully, but all Robert sees or hears in the mirror is himself and the manic Trump beside him. Robert hoarsely whispers, “God blessed the USA tonight when that bomber crashed into Lake Michigan.”
Ignoring Robert, Trump spins hearing Blue State President Biden’s voice coming from the bedroom TV flat screen and he shoves his way past his befuddled body man.
“My fellow Americans, the illegitimate ruler of the Red States, dubbed Trumptopia by the mad king himself, Donald J. Trump launched a nuclear strike on George Floydland, formerly known as Kenosha Wisconsin, tonight. Fortunately, through divine providence, the stealth bomber carrying the nuke crashed 15 miles off the coast of Milwaukee before delivering its North Korean supplied dirty bomb,” says the fuming Biden.
“Dirty bomb? How dare he!” says Trump to the emotionless Robert. “Kim’s beauty was a Neutron bomb that only kills people. All the real estate would have been left intact.”
Robert mutes Biden and slowly twists to Trump,saying loudly, “‘Only ‘kills people’? You mean like my brother and my whole family who live in Kenosha?”
“George Floydland. Uh, Kenosha is now called Geroge Floydland. Why’d you people name it like that, Robert?” says Trump patiently waiting for an answer.
“No idea and I frankly I don’t give a fuck, sir. Lemme ask you a question. You mind, sir?” says Robert.
“Seems like no matter what I say you’re gonna. Knock yourself out,” says Trump tugging on a fluffy red robe.
“Did you actually believe that shit in your speech tonight, about that nuke, might be able to end the civil war quicker? Or was that something you just made up, just doing your thing?”
“Thing?” puzzles Trump.
“The thing you love to do. You know, lying about shit so hard you can smell it,” says Robert quivering with rage.
“Don’t get smart with me. That is unless you want to be the first nigger lynched on the White House lawn.”
Robert pulls Trump’s gold plated .45 from from under Trump’s heavily embroidered pillow, “Fuck this! I am so done actin’ the house nigger with you, you faded frat boy!”
“A joke. I was joking, Robert!”
“A joke about lynchin’. Ha fucking ha. Now get on the fucking floor and get your tiny hands behind your thick skull,” says Robert, ignoring the pounding at the door and shouting of Trumptopia Troopers.
“Whoa, Robert. I know things have been a little tough on your people in the Blue States, but that’s no call to go all Samuel Jackson on me with the potty mouth routine,” says Trump using all his charm as he awkwardly lays face down on the floor.
“Huh. “Little tough’ on my people, motherfucker? 93 fucking percent of the casualties of the Blue — ain’t nothin’ civil about this motherfucking Civil War — are fucking Black. What a Goddamn shit show on both sides. I mean fuck Joe Biden up the ass too for his “Who’s the best Whitey War” while 3 times more of my people are still dying of the goddamn Covid than you white devils!”
“I don’t know where to go with that. I can barely understand you talking all jivey and shit all of sudden. Where’s my sweet Black pal?”
“Pal? A pal does not change your damn diaper. A pal does not have his brother’s family living in Kenosha threatened with a –” says Robert, annoyed to be cut off by Trump.
“George Floydland. Uh, Kenosha is now called George Floydland. Why’d you people rename it like that, Robert?” says Trump patiently waiting for an answer.
“You are so fucking losing it, Donnie boy. Asked me that dumb ass question two minutes ago,” says Robert tying Trump’s hands with the cords off the curtains.
“Careful with the curtains, they’re a gift from Putin. Come on. Tell me why Kenosha changed it’s name to George Floydland.”
“How the fuck should I know why the people of Kenosha, site of the first Red states attack in the USA that killed almost every Black person in mother fucking Kenosha, except my brother Freddie and his eight kids, all nephews, while Biden was busy in France –”
Trump tries to turn over and Robert pistol whips him, “Stay rock-still motherfucker! Now where was I?”
Breathing laboriously, Trump manages to say, “Outta your mind. My men will break down that door and shoot you, unless I make this… O-O-O-OK.”
Robert grins that Trump is having trouble breathing on the hardwood floor. “Perhaps, Mr. White Racist President, as you ain’t breathin’ so good layin’ on your big old belly, like George Floyd did — minus two cops layin’ on his back and one mother fuckin’ Chauvin perched on his neck — might help you to understand how it felt when your Nazi shock troops unleashed nerve gas on my Kenosha people and took their damn breath away.”
“That was General Bannon! Donald Trump had nothing to do with the gassing of innocent Blacks in Kenosha.”
“Don’t ya mean, George Floydland, Mr. Real President?” says Robert putting his knee to Trump’s neck.
“Sorry! Sorry, Robert! Don’t do this!” gasps Trump.
“Do what?” chuckles Robert.
Trump barely gets the words out, “Choke… me… out… like… Floyd.”
The sound of an axe hacking away at the secure door makes it hard to hear either man, so Robert raises his voice, “I ain’t choking you out, bro! Just helping you understand that maybe your Trumptopia Red troops asphyxiating 3,210 Black people in Kenosha coulda, you know, inspired the city council of mostly White crackers to rename Kenosha George Floydland.”
“Why would the hell would they do that?’ says Trump, his face starting to turn blue from Robert’s knee on his neck.
“Fuck you, Trump. Ya’all’s stallin’ ‘while your white boys knock that door in, ain’t ya? Get up, fatso!” shouts Robert yanking Trump to his feet just as the reinforced door bursts open. An elite swat team of three beefy rednecks bursts through the shattered door into Trump’s White House bedroom.
The blonde haired blue eyed Swat Team leader tries to take aim on Robert, but Trump is squarely in the way, so he shouts, “Release Real President Trump! Do it now. Do it now, nigger!”
“Chill the fuck out, Fritz Von Swat Leader. Drop all your God damn weapons or this old as fuck frat boy here gets it.”
The swat team look at each other in confusion.
“NOW, YOU PALE-ASSED MOTHERFUCKERS!” barks Robert, jamming the gold plated .45 into Trump’s mop of orange hair.
“Do what he says! Do what he says!” barks Trump. The Swat team all reluctantly drop their weapons.
Robert cracks a victorious smile and calmly says, “Nice work, boys. Now pay real good attention to what ya’all gotta do next.”
Half an hour later Robert, Trump in tow, exits the White House onto the smoke choked front lawn. They cross the White House lawn for the waiting Marine One chopper. Robert tosses Trump aboard and gives a bow to the pissed off swat team.
“Fuck!” shouts the swat team leader who watches helplessly along with dozens of soldiers as the chopper lifts off into the DC night sky… and EXPLODES
Sirens blare as the fiery twisted wreckage Marine One crashes into the Washington Monument.
Meanwhile 200 feet below the surface of Lake Michigan, amidst the floating bodies of the dead strategic bomber crew, a 24 hour countdown clocks lights up on the North Korean nuke.
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 12OF TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM
As always my handy disclaimer that this story is of course a work of pure fiction about an alternate universe. It is in no way a true reflection of the kind and compassionate real-life Donald J Trump, and his charming GOP enablers or for that matter the supposed good guys in this dark comedic tale.
Make a donation to help me keep bring you more chapters. Thanks.
Meanwhile, when we last visited the alternate Trump universe, one timeline away… Trump’s harebrained insurrection succeeded in a wonky as hell overthrow of the rightful US government. This sadly happened through the sheer blind luck of Pelosi and Pence both taking wrong turns on the run on January 6th, ending in both being taken hostage by the rag tag white supremacist led insurrectionists.
A gruesome house to house battle, dubbed The Blue Civil War, erupted to put the rightful President Biden into the Oval office, has so far cost 256,234 American lives.
Looking to raise quick cash for a boost in the polls to bless his proposed launch tactical nukes on Blue states, Trump enlists the help of a Marjorie Taylor Greene for crowd funder to raise $5 billion to knock out her mythical Jewish space laser. We now join…
TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM – CHAPTER 10 – A BITTER CHEESE
Trump shows General Marjorie Greene Taylor, the new Speaker of the House, to the paneled door of the oval office saying, “Much as I love you, Margie, I don’t want to see your face again until you have the $5 billion!” Before Taylor can complain, Trump slams the door in her face.
Nestled in the blue yellow sofa, My Pillow Guy, Mike Lindell, the newly minted Secretary of Defense and Pillow Production Czar, reports to Trump on progress in Blue Civil War. He speaks fast, like he’s ripping off a band-aid, “Sadly, we’ve lost Illinois to the Sleepy Joe forces, sir.”
“What about Wisconsin?” demands Trump.
“The Battle of George Floydland was — ”
“George Floydland?!” shouts Trump.
“F.K.A. Kenosha Wisconsin, sir,” nervously answers Secretary Lindell. “Confusing, I know, because Minnesota is where Floyd was –“
“Do I look confused?” says Trump getting up in Lindell’s dumb as dirt puss.
“Of course not, sir!”
“I know where that counterfeit passing snake Floyd was choked out! Spades wanna name part of Wisconsin after a dead loser Minnesotan that’s their fucking funeral. Bigger question: How did that useless cheese head Johnson blow the 2-1 military advantage I gave him?” says Trump firmly pushing the button on his resolute desk to call for a Diet Coke.
“You’re in luck , sir! My film team from ABSOLUTE PROOF has whipped up a new doc about it and it’s already up on Trump TV!” says Lindell, doing a little victory dance.
Robert, Trump’s Black body servant, enters at a run, delivers Trump’s Diet Coke. Robert avoids making any eye contact with the hand waving Lindell.
“You put a fucking documentary about my brave Trumptopia troops losing to Obama on my TV station without my OK?” barks Trump.
Robert stumbles as he quickly exits to avoid Trump tantrum fallout.
Lindell fumbles with the big screen remote. He nervously says, “Sir, ahem, CNN and MSNBC have their version of the story coming out on the Battle of George Floydland premiering tonight. I had to move fast so that you’re the first one to tell the story. You know to slant it your way, of course. Ha ha. Knew you’d OK that since you are the genius chosen one after all!”
“Secretary Lindell… I saw on Fox News that you were broke and homeless. So how’d you afford making a movie with a 24 hour time –”
“Look, Donnie boy, I know you still watch Fox, because you’re personally keeping an eye on the enemy. But that junk will rot your –“
“Fair warning, I don’t like this rushed as fuck doc you’re with Pelosi, executed on Trump TV LIVE tomorrow at dawn!” barks Trump, cleaning a speck of lint off his banana Republic uniform.
Wiping sweat from his brow Lindell hits play and he says, “Narrated it myself.”
“Shut the fuck up and let me watch!” grouses Trump, already annoyed by the opening title.
A Bitter Cheese – Defeat in George Floydland (F.K.A. Kenosha, Wisconsin)
Documentary style footage plays as Lindell ham-narrates:
House to house combat raged for weeks in America’s dairy state. Troops led by former president Barrack Obama are on the march south from the Biden won city of Milwaukee.
Trumptopia’s Supreme Commander, aside from President Trump, Don Jr., confers beneath the fire scorched Kenosha Brat Stop sign with General/Senator Johnson, who for some dumb reason demands both titles as General Senator — Seriously, if this titty bar loving cheese dick slept better he’d have had a much clearer head for the battle he was about to lose for our heroic leader Donald the Chosen One Trump, all powerful President of Trumptopia FKA the USA.
For a dreamy night’s sleep visit MyPillowGuy.com!
“Fuck’s sake! Is this an My Pillow infomercial or God damn news story?” comments Trump imperiously.
Lindell hits pause. “Sir, we’ll edit my little pillow plug out ASAP. Let’s go on, sir. There’s some things in here you’re going to want to see firsthand,” Lindell quickly hits play again.
Lindell’s narration continues: And so, because many in the US Armed Forces are sitting out the Blue Civil War out, the hand to hand civilian combat showdown of the 21st century was at hand.
Lindell hits “pause” on the remote and says proudly, “Like the poetic thing I did with the hands? Classy huh?”
Trump just glares at the My Pillow putz who quickly hits the “play” button in response.
First to fall were the obese of both the red and blue civilian troops, causing some smart asses on the rogue app Twitter to dub this The Battle of the Second Battle of the Bulge. Although the bloodiest civil war since the Civil War of Lincoln’s Day, it has proven to be a chance to lower our obesity health index for the first time in 50 years.
The game was afoot. The sneaky Black former failed President versus our heroic great white Hope’s son of our stable genius president Donald John Trump, Don Jr., was accompanied by his operatic battle crier Colonel Guilfoyle .
Both of them clad in golden armor, astride the white stallions recalled the great days of Roman rule. All looks promising as General Senator Ron Johnson joins the Trumptopian troops in his cheddar cheese colored armored tank to draw final battle plans.
“General Johnson.” says Don Jr imperiously while Johnson lifts open the hatch on his tank.
“With all due respect that’s General/Senator Ron Johnson, Junior!”
“Oh, get off it, Ron. We’re about to go into battle. Let’s keep it short shall we?” grouses Guilfoyle.
“I outrank you and outgun you, little missy,” says Johnson laughing as his tank turret playfully takes aim at her and Don Jr.
Don Jr. fast draws his pearl handled pistol and blows the smile from Johnson’s face along with his head.
The cameraman shouts off-screen, “Holy fuck!”
Don Jr. smiles for the camera, “Command is all about respect. And –“
“Donnie! Come on you wuss! We gotta battle to win!” shouts Guilfoye.
“Later, fans. After Kimberly and I kick some Kenyan BLM ass! Yee ha!” shouts Don Jr. as he rears up his stallion and follows Guilfoyle. The two look amazing charging into battle until…
BOOM! The duo vanish in a massive explosion.
“Stop! Don Jr. is dead?” shouts Trump.
Lindell hits pause and says consolingly, “Along with Colnel Guilfoyle and most of our brave Wisconsin Trumptopia troops. Sorry for your loss, sir”
“My son was a damn fool not using Johnson cheesy tank. But, hey, I’ll put on a show of grief. Should inspire some donors,” says Trump.
Lindell looks for any sign of grief from the stone faced Trump and then says, “Brilliant as always, sir! Now, if you don’t mind, I’m on Fox in five minutes to discuss the film.”
“No. I’ll take the Fox interview myself.”
“It’s really no trouble, sir,” offers Lindell, clutching one of his crappy pillows for security.
“I said I will take the interview. No one’s lost more in this battle than me. My firstborn.” says Trump with a fake sniffle.
“But may I start the Fox interview and turn it over to you? Makes you more sympathetic.” says Lindell hopefully,
“Hmm. We can do that. But make it quick.”
“Great. Follow me. I’ve got the Fox setup in my office.” says Lindell, pointing the way with a gracious bow.
“No. This interview will be done from here in the oval,” demands Trump
“But it’s all set up in my office and there’s not time to — Of course. Of course.” Lindell barks into his phone. “Get the Fox crew over to the oval.”
A short time later Trump listens as Secretary Lindell makes the intro to the Fox cameras.
“Our Donald may have lost a son… but he still has all of you fine citizens of Trumptopia as his children. My fellow My Pillow fans, I give you the chosen one, our true President, Donald John Trump,” says Lindell with sweep of his hand that messes up Trump’s hair. Everyone holds their breath for Trump’s furious reaction. But Trump does not notice his hair is askew, revealing a bald pate as he speaks to the camera:
My fellow, Trumptopians, in a vicious sneak attack, Blue forces led by the evil Barack Obama, murdered my… my brave boy Don Jr. in cold blood. This is personal now! Therefore, Obama the puppet master and his puppet Biden have left me no choice but to order, herewith, a tactical nuclear strike on George Floydland, FKA Kenosha Wisconsin.
I know it seems horrible as such an attack will kill red and blue soldiers and civilians alike. But the Pentagon estimates this ultimate shock and awe attack will end the Blue Civil War years ahead of conventional hand to hand fighting. Thus saving millions of American lives at the sacrifice of approximately half a million Wisconsinites.
Fear not! To reduce civilian casualties I am hereby grant the next 30 minutes to depart the George Floydland’s blast zone.
Please take your most precious possessions as Kenosha will be radioactive and uninhabitable for the next 35 years. Good news that’s half the normal length of radioactivity contamination thanks to our brilliant tactical nukes granted to us by our beloved friend and ally Kim Jung Un. Good night and God Bless Trumptopia.
Fox News cuts to pandemonium on the streets as forces of the left and right fight their way out of Kenosha. It’s a blood bath.
The camera lights go off and Trump smiles proudly at the stunned camera crew and a speechless Secretary Lindell.
“How was I?” asks Trump calmly.
Fox cameraman wearing a Trumptopia T-Shirt gushes, “Trumptopia’s behind you, sir!”
“I’m really trying to keep casualties low yet send a message of compassion. Fucking tightrope act,” says Trump loosening his red tie. Not to mention the chance to catch Obama sleeping with a nuke.”
“3 D chess once again, sir!” says the Fox cameraman.
“What’s your name, kid? You have a future on Trump TV.” says Trump shaking the cameraman’s hand in the dominant style Trump is famed for.
“But I have a major My Pillow distribution center in Kenosha,” the shocked Lindell finally says.
Trump checks his watch and says, “Um, not 28 minutes.”
A strategic bomber glides the starry skies over Lake Michigan beneath the full moon. In the bomber cockpit a heated argument rages between the pilot and co-Pilot.
“Orders are orders!” shouts the pilot.
“Not when the fucking order is to nuke a city on American soil for a delusional illegitimate president!” bellows the co-pilot.
Pilot and co-pilot both reach for their pistols. BANG!
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 11 – TO NUKE OR NOT TO NUKE KENOSHA THAT IS THE QUESTION
*As always my little disclaimer that this is of course a work of pure fiction about an alternate universe. It is in no way a true reflection the kind and compassionate Donald J Trump, and his cohorts or for that matter the good guys in this dark comedic telling, the Biden bunch. But I hope it makes you feel a little better about the weird as hell times we are still lost in.
In these menacing times it’s helpful to meditate on the big picture to regain some sense of objectivity. I needed a meditation to settle me down after a disturbing dip of my toe into the Monday night news about the cesspool that was the Nazi odal staged CPAC 2021. A strange, almost occult event, complete with a golden idol Trump and fueled by our ever more fascist GOP, filled with Trump wannabe liars.
I took some deep breaths to launch myself into meditation, closed my weary eyes and began to visualize the evolution of the human race, all the way from its early primitive cave people beginnings up to the troubling Q-soaked mind control times of today. A somber time where nearly half the US population is still enraged and enslaved by the dangerous BIG LIE that the Dems stole the election from Trump.
Some of us are trying to move on from the Trump era of arrogant incompetence and mean spirited thought, word and deed. I love Biden’s work 6 weeks into his presidency. But I am frustrated that so many of my fellow Yanks are clinging to the old ways of a GOP I believe is already dead. Living in the Trump BIG LIE reality unfortunately leaves many of my friends stuck in Q inspired racism, entwined in wilful spread of Covid, and knee-deep more karmic awfulness than George Orwell could imagine.
As a builder of skyscrapers and a maker of movies, I know firsthand that all things begin with imagining. Last night I yearned to imagine answers to the big picture behind the BIG LIE. And so I set my vivid imagination to workless work.
I began to visualize, as if from deep planetary orbit, our blue world spinning and spiraling through space time. The curve of humanity’s negative traits and positive traits presented themselves as a wild mesh of blue and red strands of energy. Thin blue and red lines streaked along the path of earth’s trajectory within this galaxy and our Milky Way galaxy in a glorious dance of the cosmos.
Now the visualization meditation took on a life of its own. Indeed, it was, as it often is for me, it seemed as though the universe was revealing something profound. Somehow this unfolding epiphany allowed me to let go of seeing the blue and red as good versus evil. Instead I witnessed the web of human lifetimes simply as primitive thinking versus evolved thinking. Borrowing from Biden recent neanderthal comments concerning Texas Governor Abbott’s dropping mandatory mash wearing as the pandemic still rages.
The lines of primitive thinking, represented in red by (Who else?) Trump, were energized by the people who love him, at the core, for his being a cunning yet not bright, racist. Lines of the blue higher consciousness reality swirled in space time among the stars as a lighter and hipper energy more in tune with my frequency of which I wish to be a part.
I watched the human wave of consciousness expand from its tiny prehistoric origins blossom into the vast bundles of blue and red lifeline threads of today’s harrowing reality. Then I saw that humankind stands at a great fork in reality. In the blue fork of reality, humankind ascends into a space faring race that populates the stars, emerging after eons as a species immortal through exploration of space and our own diversity. But in the other fork, the red dominated one, humankind does not even master this single world that we’ve been gifted by the universe. And sadly in a relatively short span of time from 2021 humanity’s beautiful time lines all end in our species’ extinction for a number of idiotic self-destructive reasons.
I observed all this sorrow without forgetting to remain relaxed and to keep breathing deeply. Then something wonderful, in a weird way, arose my vision. The shorter red Trumpian dominated timeline bent into a loop where alpha and omega met and humankind’s collective life force rode the entire rise and fall of humanity over and over. All of this beauty experienced each time as new personas.
And so the finite red timeline evolved from Trumpism had it’s own form of immortality, expressed as looped lifetimes. Now I visioned there were two primary ways for humanity to exist infinitely. Each valid for it’s own kind, those who cling to the past and those who look forward to the future.
I slowly opened my eyes, gradually coming back to this reality. The TV was playing Wonder Woman 1984. The fireplace filled our living room with warmth and orange light. My beautiful wife Elizabeth was sound asleep on the couch, snoring lightly. My rescue dog Lincoln was cozy-ed up to me in my easy chair. I continued not to judge either fork in the human wave of timelines that my mind saw as diverging as either right or wrong. I felt blessed that the universe provides infinite possibly via the quantum physics of the multi-universe.
A deep sense of gratitude and relaxation washed over me. And then I gave myself and perhaps the world a gift… I let go of the loop Trump universe and all it represents. You see, I prefer to go forward to the reality timeline where the human wave populates the stars. A bigger joy awaits us all there.
When we last left our alternate timeline Donald J. Trump and his alternate enablers in Chapter 8, Trumptopia’s orange presidential bad boy was busy selling his BIG LIE that he was cheated out of his rightful second term.
In this dark alternate reality, a series of cautionary political tales I plan to gather into a book, working title Trump’s Fever Dream, the Trump fostered insurrection on the capitol succeeded in overthrowing the rightful government.
There’s just one problem in Trump’s rebranding of the USA he’s dubbed Trumptopia: A Civil War from the left looms. One for which Trump has been unable to access the treasury to prepare for battle.
CHAPTER 9 – THE GREENE JEWISH SPACE LASER NEW DEAL
Trump nervously paces the oval office, wolfing into a Big Mac.
Bannon, Jared and Ivanka wait patiently on the couches as Trump washes the burger down with a noisy gulp of diet Coke. Bannon opens his mouth to speak but Trump holds up his hand and belches. Bannon waits for an “excuse me” that never comes and pushes on, “Mr. President — “
“Mr. President. Wow, love still hearing that. What you were about to say, Steve?” says Trump absentmindedly.
“Um, Mr. President, our brave patriot Trumptopia troops have lost control of three state capitols this week; Maine, Georgia and Arizona. All to bastards loyal the Former United States. As a result we are running low on the basics, ammo, shelter and food,” says the ever more scrubby looking Bannon.
“Damn Putin to hell! The lying louse was supposed to back me up with shock troops, air cover and tactical nukes!” shouts Trump.
“Putin has his own troubles fighting off the Navalny revolution, Daddy,” says Ivanka.
“Swell. I’ll nuke the blue states on my own. What are the polls showing?” says Trump as he mindlessly fidgets with the aluminum pop top tab on his diet Coke.
Bannon fans through his notes and offfers, “Only 33% of our base favors the domestic nuclear option.”
“Get those assholes on Fox cracking! I need 60% approval before I can nuke California! The smug bastard Newsom is going to pay for his wanton slaying of 11,780 brave Trumptopians who perished storming Sacramento!”
“Uh, sir, that’s actually the total you needed to win Georgia. We lost more like 10,000,” says Bannon.
Everyone shouts in unison, “Never forget Sacramento!”
“Jared, you’re the money man. Congress is still a war zone. How do I raise some quick cash to fight these stubborn bastards that old coot Joe Biden and the half-breed Harris are leading to overthrow me?” says Trump pounding his pudgy fist into his meaty palm for emphasis.
“Space Force,” says Jared brightly.
“Space Force?” says a puzzled Trump. “Nah. It’ll be months until the nuclear space platform is at the ready to nuke anything.”
Jared clicks the intercom and softly says, “Send in the new Speaker of the House.”
The paneled door opens and Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, the new speaker, enters. She is dressed in the new Trumptopia military uniform. Her ill-fitting uniform bears an uncanny, though not unexpected, resemblance to the Nazi SS uniform of World War ll. Greene wields an AK-47 recklessly.
“That thing loaded?” asks Trump, trying to sounds brave.
“Of course, sir. DC is still crawling with libtards!” says Greene incredulously.
“Put your damn weapon down!” demands Trump.
“Nope. Here, I’ll just put on the lil’ old safety on my AK, Mr. President,” gushes Greene.
“I said put the god damn weapon DOWN!”
“All due respect. That’s no way to speak to your new Speaker of the House.”
Trump grabs the AK-47 and wrestles with Greene. The AK-47 erupts. Rapid fire cuts off the head of a Trump security guard. Greene finally relents to Trump. Guards cart the headless corpse off as the rattled group climb out of hiding places.
Trump sighs and gingerly stands the smoking gun against the resolute desk and says, “OK, OK, what’s this big idea you had for raising money, Greene? It better be fucking good and it better have nothing the fuck to do with asking for more dough from the My Pillow Guy. We busted that brave patriot. Poor Mikey is homeless.”
“Simple. Let’s have a crowd funder to bring down the Jewish space laser!” says Green brightly.
“But there is no such thing as a Jewish space — Oh, I get it! A new Big Lie!” says Trump, annoyed he did not think of this himself from his expression.
“May I take it from here, Majorie?” asks Jared. Greene’s happily nods. “Mr. President, this is how we reach 60% approval for the domestic nuclear option. Take a look at this iPad.”
Trump yanks the iPad from Jared. Trump’s bloodshot eyes go wide as he reads.
FUNDING GOAL $5 BILLION!
“Renewed weapons grade brainwashing with this kind of budget! I predict your new Destroy the Jewish Space Laser! crowd funder will be the most successful campaign in history, Mr. President!” beams Jared.
“But $5 billion? Aren’t we aiming a little high even for my stupid as hell fan base?” says Trump.
Ivanka pipes up, “No amount of money is too big, Daddy. Fighting the Jewish Space Laser is brave and patriotic. So in character with your mandate as our Christian war chief. What’s a measly $5 billion? You’ll raise 10 billion! You are the chosen one after all.”
“Thanks for seeing my glory, baby!” says Trump grabbing his daughter to him for a hug so amorous that it makes Jared jealous. “Greene, you have my word that I will promote you to 5 star general if your campaign to Destroy the Jewish Space Laser succeeds!”
“But I already have 5 stars, sir.” pouts Greene.
“Six stars then!” boasts Trump.
Mark Meadows pokes his head in the oval office and says,”Sir, it’s time for your fitting for your military outfit. Shall I tell the tailor you’re busy?”
“No, show my tailor in. Oops, watch the pool of blood on the rug there, Mark. Everybody else out. You have a Jewish Space Laser to defeat!”
Greene smiles and says coyly, “Now you’re talking, like my fearsome leader!”
Jared pipes up, “Fearless leader.”
“Nope. Fearsome, as in awesome.” chides Greene.
“Fearless. Fearsome means timid. Google it, you ignorant bitch!” shouts Jared.
Greene dives for her AK-47 and spins on Jared. “I knew the Jew in you was a traitor. Let me shoot him Mr. President!
“No, Margy. Jared’s family. One of the good Jews. Put down the rifle.”
Greene sags and whispers in Trump’s ear, “Never trust a Jew.”
Trump whispers back in Greene’s ear, “Never question my judgement again or you’ll be facing a firing squad.”
As Greene exits she passes Trump’s Jewish tailor who gives her the hairy eyeball.
“What are you looking at, tailor?” grouse Greene intentionally bumping into the old tailor.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” says the tailor bowing dismissively to the enraged Greene.
All of the Trump Fever Dream stories are of course purely fictional and not meant to portray the individuals in any real way. It’s been created simply for your reading pleasure and maybe to help you realize just how lucky we might be that Trump has been pushed aside like the old fart he truly is by the voters of this great land; supported the politicians, judges, pundits brave enough to stand up to the Trump incited, or at the very least inspired, January 6th insurrection.
Stay true to yourself and those you love. – Ken Sheetz
The title of this week’s blog (one month post-insurrection) is in response to the latest desperate attempt by Q to maintain its stranglehold on the hearts and minds of far too many gullible Americans. Q’s mind-fuck story this week? Trump and Biden have switched faces!
Q is quite simply the biggest mind control attack ever propagated on a civilian populace. And it’s frustrating as hell Q is still fucking with us without being arrested. Not my idea of freedom.
My theory is that Q was created in desperation to build a bigger base of white power. This violent, yet invisible, attack on a large segment of the American populace, vulnerable from its own sense of white privilege, was stabbed into the heart of our country through a full frontal media/advertising attack and via a sneak attack, deployed through weapons grade memes, videos and bot postings all on unregulated social media.
Spitballing freely, here are some of my wild-assed ideas of how we got into this fucking mess where nearly half the country is still lost to Q and its racist variants. Hey, the dark side doesn’t have an exclusive on theoretical BS. Well, here goes:
1. Racist Trump rose to power in the highest office in the land with help from a racist GOP. We’re all weary as AF right now because, not only we have we avoided a civil war by the skin of our teeth, but we are also fighting the remnants of Trump’s deadly herd immunity scheme. A scheme that, to my painful observation, rapidly evolved into a bio weapon when Jared learned Covid kills 3 times as many Blacks as whites.
2. Power drunk business person(s) rose to Bond-villain multi-billionaire status and used Trump as their front man. There have never been so many white oddball billionaires as now and the list is growing. Some racist player may have thought, ‘Hey, it’s cool to manipulate people to buy my rotten shit like reality TV and slave labor made tennis shoes. So why not demo the hell out of my less intelligent brother and sister whites and enslave those suckers and losers to hate and division? Divide and conquer!
3. Fact: Religion’s influence has been diminishing for decades. So might it make some sense that religious leaders might desperate enough to reverse decline by seeking to reinvent itself? It then doubles down on the magical thinking they foster in the church every Sunday. All to recruit more believers and remain in power. See THE FAMILY on Netflix to understand the huge role religion played in putting Trump in power and Pence as his obsequious as hell VP.
4. Going sci fi: An advanced alien race is harvesting angst consciousness. We sure got a lot of that today. That’d be yummy to a nasty alien consciousness getting it’s rocks off on endlessly fucking with us.
5. Going super high tech: Might the gross manipulation engender a simulated universe for one master conscious AI? All to be able to launch AI super computer realities in the form of an infinite number of lives, patterned after our own on social media?
6. Last, just the good old Ruskies looking to incite a civil war. What a comeuppance. The USA has meddled in toppling governments for a century. Perhaps seeing our Capitol sacked by Nazis might give America pause for future meddling.
You get the idea. Who the hell knows? But without question, someone or some group is fucking with human consciousness in ways we cannot grasp, only theorize about. Our collective angst on this topic has left almost half our country in a self-destructive state of mental illness; still enraged about the BIG LIE that the election was stolen from Trump by the rightfully elected Joe Biden. And watching the assholes in Congress (House) and the Senate fuel this lies in goddamn infuriating.
And no. Biden did not switch faces with Trump. The idiocy of this latest Q drop is that one only need look at the slender build of Biden to compared to the fat stack burger build of the orange deposed wannabe dictator to know its mind control nonsense. GET REAL! This is engineered cognitive dissonance, designed to insert things of the enemy’s choosing into your mind.
If you went down the rabbit hole, you must undo the Q in your life. You were sucked into a Trump cult. Seek help if you need it to break free. Only then might you see there is only one one reality here on the blue planet, one universe which we all enjoy in divergent and creative ways. Time to grow the fuck up and love reality. You’re not a kid anymore.
Consider this an invitation to be a reality proponent. Magical thinking, which I do lots of, is fine if you don’t start to buy your own stories as literal truth. Speaking of which, let’s honor all religions and all faith not as literal fact but as beautiful stories created to help us be better, not worse, people.
Now that America did not self-destruct after all on January 20th, despite the predictions of Q, it’s time take a deep breath. Phew! Time for me to thank my wife for her amazing help in keeping me from falling down the Q rabbit hole. A hole many of the best people in the New Age and yoga community fell into.
All to the shock and horror of our left leaning community that so many of us could be so hung up — on wearing masks and taking a sensible vaccines — that so many vegans would end up passionately supporting a dim witted Neo-Nazi “hamburder” led insurrection against democracy!
You see, my beloved Elizabeth England, and fellow DreamShield blogger, is a pro-calling mind control BS, based on great intuition and 17 years military experience. Some of Elizabeth’s long and excellent service to America was performed in Special Ops, working in psychological operations. AKA PSYOPS.
To learn more about the weapons grade PSYOP that was launched on the Brits to ram through Brexit and then launched 4 years of Trump hell in America see THE GREAT HACK on Netflix. And, yeah, that film is one of the big reasons the Q brain washers, who may be Russian, is one of the reasons, besides their liking Obama, that, like any controlling cult, Q has told their believers not to watch NETFLIX.
As my loving partner in all things, Elizabeth has and continues to tirelessly blow the whistle on Q for me and those smart enough to listen to her here, Twitter and in person since day one when Q emerged to spread lies and hatred in 2017.
Elizabeth believes that Q, even in tatters for now, remains the most dangerous and powerful mind control tool ever inflicted on the American people. Letting go of Q, and all it stands for, is the first step on the road back to peace of mind.
You might think mind control can’t get me. AND YOU WOULD BE WRONG. This battle for the hearts and minds of America is not over by a long shot. Stay sharp. Many in the New Age community are profoundly infected by hateful conspiracies. So be careful with what you open from well meaning but totally messed up friends and family.
Get ready. Many will not give up Q and conspiracy theories even in the face of the wicked smoking crater the Trump years represent. A persistent desire to live in the bliss of brainwasher’s Big Lie all too well embodied in this sad yet hilarious photo today of the only NY guy who showed up today for Trump’s civil war on inauguration day.
Just remember, with all the love you can muster, that if your confused friend and/or loved one’s are under the very real mind control of Q and the Big Lie, the proven methodology of right-wing extremists, and gently tell them the truth.
Trump was not cheated.
There was NO voter fraud.
Biden is a legit president and is not a baby eating demon.
Let’s get on with building back better.
Use your IQ to free yourself of Q.
Get them to watch more media than just the brainwashing echo chambers.
Go easy on them on yourself in progress they make. It won’t be easy.
I now return you to your celebrating, or, being still lost to Trumpism and Q, mourning, the inauguration of Joe and Kamala, the rightful and righteous new President and Vice President.