Showing posts with label Donald Trump. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Donald Trump. Show all posts

Saturday, December 13, 2025

If Donald Trump Were Santa Claus

 

Image courtesy of Shutterstock


In the world of “What If,” since it is almost Christmas, I can’t help but come up with a weird idea  -- what if Santa Claus were to retire and Donald Trump take over.

First, The Donald would move his headquarters from the North Pole to Florida.  Only he and his secretary would relocate, however.  He would leave the elves up in the frozen north, under the supervision of overseers, and would lower their pay to just above poverty level.  The elves, of course, would go on strike.  The Donald would respond by bringing in thousands of laborers from India and expecting them to get used to living in subzero temperatures.

Herr Orangenfuehrer would not travel on Christmas Eve via sleigh and reindeer.  He would commission a special flying gold Mercedes, at taxpayer expense.  In the meantime, he would encourage his Indian toymakers up north to slaughter and eat the reindeer, which he would look upon as useless.  Rudolph’s shiny nose would be used as a street lamp.

When his Indian workers decide to join the elves on strike, the tiny-fingered dictator wannabe would outsource the toymaking to small businesses, which he would refuse to pay for reasons only he would know.

Donald Dishonest would kiss the behinds of his Evangelical followers by shouting all over the place that Christmas is Jesus’ birthday and must only be celebrated as such.  The fact that he doesn’t care a whit about this fact and is only saying it to make himself look good won’t make a difference.  Enough people will believe that he is religious to enable him to fool some of the people some of the time.

The Orange Menace would declare a moratorium on his tariffs, but only for his North Pole-Florida toymaking business.  Everybody else would just have to suffer.

Last but not at all least, Donald Trampler would not distribute toys to anyone on Christmas Eve.  Instead, he would travel the world in his flying gold Mercedes and expect people in every home in the world to give him gifts.  He would return to Florida with an overloaded Mercedes filled with the world’s enforced tribute.

Of course, most of his loot would consist of gag gifts because the majority of the people on the earth hate him and think he’s a stupid clown, but he will be too brain-addled to notice.

The North Pole-Florida toy company would go bankrupt because of neglect and mismanagement.

And that, dear readers, is what would happen.

 

Saturday, June 24, 2017

A Perfect World

New Worlds to Conquer??
Imagine that now, in 2017 CE, we are living in a world where space travel to other galaxies is common.  New worlds inhabited by many kinds of life forms, including humanoids, are being found every year.  New technologies are being invented every month.  People can be transported from one place to another in ten seconds.  You get the idea.

Because it is embedded in their genetic code, the human beings who live on Earth are eager to explore, take over and rule any habitable planet whose indigenous population is capable of being overrun.  To this end, the United States and its allies, financed by a couple of global corporate conglomerates, have built and manned a large fleet of intergalactic space ships.

The Intergalactic Ship Empire has landed on a populated planet whose inhabitants call it Kikass, from an ancient word meaning “Dirt.”  It is an Earth-like planet with a nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere, an unspoiled place of great natural beauty, loaded with natural resources that the people of Earth can really use right now.  The people of Kikass are peaceful by nature, but they are known to become ferocious fighters when they have something to fight about, such as being invaded by aliens from Outer Space who are after their planet.

The Captain of The Empire’s name is Shirley Custer.  (His mother was a Shirley MacLaine fan who wanted a girl.)  Captain Custer has kidnapped the President of the largest country on Kikass.  Her name means “The Wise One,” so the officers and crew call her “President Wise.”  President Wise is a slim, elegant, middle-aged Kikassian with turquoise skin, cat-like ears and white hair.  Her people think she’s ugly, but they vote for her, anyway.

The Captain attempted to interrogate President Wise, but she wasn’t stupid and wouldn’t talk.  When the Captain blustered that he was going to set her whole planet on fire if she didn’t answer him, she smiled and said softly, “You’re probably going to do that anyway, you butt-faced fucker.”  The Universal Translator was set to gloss over obscenities, so the Captain missed the butt-faced fucker part, which would have upset him and everyone in his church back home.

It was now 2:00 Eastern Standard Time on Earth, and the Captain had an appointment for a videoconference with U.S. President No. 45, who was waiting in the Oval Office with a few hand-picked toadies, including Mike Pence, Jeff Sessions, Rick Perry and a middle-aged pole dancer named Busty Chanel, who was picked off the street after being seen worshipping a photograph of the President.

The connection went live right at the point where Captain Custer threatened President Wise and she responded with the butt-faced fucker remark.  Busty Chanel gave a loud whoop, startling everyone else in the room.

“Sorry,” said Busty.  “I’ve been studying Kikassian and I can read lips.  Ooh, what she called him!”

Because she was middle-aged and looked it, the men in the room found Busty uninteresting, so they ignored her.

Captain Custer turned his face to the video screen and beamed a huge smile.

“Greetings, Mr. President,” he said.  “I cannot tell you what a pleasure and honor it is to be speaking with you today.  I have traveled to many worlds, and have yet to meet a leader like you.”

“Hello, Captain Shirley,” said No. 45.

“Uh, Custer.  My name is Custer, Mr. President.  Captain Custer.  I’m Captain of The Intergalactic Ship Empire.”

“Okay.  So what do you want?”

“Well, uh … you called this conference, Mr. President.  I want whatever you want.”

Mike Pence leans over and whispers something in No. 45’s ear.

“Is that what this is about?” asked No. 45.

“Yes,” said Mike Pence.  “We sent an intergalactic spaceship to Planet Kikass last month.  They are supposed to bring useless stuff to trade to the inhabitants, frighten them, overpower them.  You know.  The usual.”

“Did we get anything out of that?”

“That’s what the Captain will tell us, Mr. President,” said Mike Pence.  His face was covered with the biggest fake smile he could muster.  He was kissing some industrial-sized ass.

“So Captain Whatever-Your-Name-Is, what have you been doing the last four weeks?” asked No. 45.

“Mr. President, the operation has been a huge success.  We landed on Kikass a month ago.  We tried to gain their confidence by trading the stuff we brought, but the natives just laughed at us.  Apparently, nobody wants gold-tone chains, Earth rocks and canned air in exchange for land.  They offered to pay us the equivalent of $2 for the whole lot.  We tried frightening them with loud noises and displays of fire power, but they have a well-equipped army, navy and air force here, as well as a space program as advanced as ours.  I was almost convinced that we had invaded the wrong planet, but then we lucked out.  We managed to kidnap President Wise here.  She’s the President of the largest, most powerful country on the planet.  I think we have a good bargaining chip here now.  Her people love her.  If we say we’ll kill her or something, they’ll give us anything.”

“Are you saying we can’t just go in and bomb the place to smithereens and take it over?”  No. 45 was shouting now.  “How am I supposed to make America great again if we can’t even take over one planet way out there in space somewhere?”

There was an audible murmur in the conference room, topped by Mike Pence saying, “That is absolutely right, Mr. President.”

“This man is a god,” piped up Busty, “Just like the Roman emperors in old times.”

Jeff Sessions was about to shout “Hail, Trump,” but he was stopped short by President Wise, who finally spoke up.

“Okay, you bunch of idiots,” she said as she stood up and faced the video screen.  “Listen to me, and listen well!  You can kill me and it won’t make a difference.  My Vice President is well informed and very capable of taking over my office, and he will.  We have a Parliament that works together, and they will be happy to mobilize all our forces to drive you out of here, which should take us about 20 minutes, because our army, navy, air force and space program people all work together and we’re better than you are.  Nobody will want you to take over our planet because life is good here.  There haven’t been any wars in 200 years, unless you count a few stupid invasions like yours.  We kicked them all out fast, by the way.  Our economy is in great shape.  We have very little crime, and almost no violent crime.  Our jails became so empty that we closed them all and put all our criminals on house arrest.  So why would we let you come in here?  The answer is, WE WON’T.  You’ll be very sorry if you try.  Now, if you want to send tourists here, that’s different.  That you can do, if they all behave themselves while they’re here, spend their money, then go back home.  If you still want to invade us, be warned.  We’re ready for you.”

President Wise sat down again.  There was silence in the conference room on the other end.

“Whose idiot idea was it to invade that place?” shouted No. 45.

Nobody answered.  The other men looked at No. 45 warily under bowed heads.

“We were all misinformed, Mr. President,” said Rick Perry.  “Nobody gave us the right data about Kikass.  So when you told us to invade it, we thought it was a good idea at the time.”

“Well, get us out of there!” shouted No. 45.  He turned to Rick Perry and said, “You are trying to say it was my idea?  You’re fired!”

No. 45 stomped out of the conference room.



Monday, February 20, 2017

The Boomer Life

I never do anything the normal way if I can avoid it.  This includes living my life in the right order.

This could be me, back in the late 60s.  It isn't me,
though.  Sorry.
I was born on the leading edge of the Boomer generation.  I came of age in an exciting time.  My generation protested and demonstrated against racial discrimination, the Vietnam War, and the subjugation of women.  We studied ecology and warned people to protect the earth.  We even went overboard, declaring, “Turn on, tune in, drop out.”  Reefers were passed around at wine and cheese parties, with the wine served in paper cups.  New forms of addictive drugs were developed and sold.  The more reckless among us dropped Acid and hoped they would survive with their brains intact.  Transcendental Meditation became a fad.  Brassieres were burned, boys and men grew long hair and beards.  Women and girls grew long hair, too, including me.  My hair is thick and coarse and it grows at the speed of light.  Growing it so long I could almost sit on it was easy.

Speaking of going overboard, there was easy, open sex.  This was hard for those of us who were still reeling from strong religious upbringings.  We felt like a starving person with Celiac Disease locked in a room with 200 loaves of bread.  It made us envy our friends who could be “spiritual” and wild at the same time without a twang of guilt.

Although I eagerly adopted a hippie look and a somewhat broader outlook than the one I had been raised with, I didn’t take part in any campus demonstrations, although there was plenty to demonstrate about.  I was busy studying music and theater, attempting to get my head together and breaking into an operatic singing career.  Anyone who has ever tried that knows how it sucks every bit of energy and attention from body and brain, especially when you have to work a 9 to 5 job at the same time, to support yourself.

Fast forward to the year 2016.  I was now a senior citizen, complete with AARP membership, senior discounts, arthritic knees, doctor visits and friends who worried about me, even when there was no need to worry.  Suddenly, a loony guy who, up until now, had been only known as a wealthy, obnoxious, egotistical real estate developer was the Republican candidate for President of the United States.  The loony guy proudly shouted his racism, xenophobia, misogyny and whatever other dangerous ideas came into his head.

In other words, this was the Mother of All Causes.

At age 70, I suddenly became what I could have been at age 21:  a protester.  I signed a gazillion online petitions and gave a lot of contributions, which were, by necessity, small.  I am not wealthy, and I would make a terrible bank robber.

When the loony guy was declared President, even though he didn’t win the popular vote, I geared myself to escalate the protesting – after I recovered from being sick over the whole mess.

So here I am, still signing online petitions, still giving small amounts of money, sending postcards, knitting “pussy hats” and trying to talk myself into calling members of Congress, which is something I have a half-phobia against (don’t ask me why).  The only reason I didn’t join the women’s march was that I knew I wouldn’t last more than about 30 minutes because: (1) I have arthritic knees (see above); and (2) we older ladies need accessible bathrooms, which can be hard to find in New York City.  On the other hand, I can yell as loud as I ever could, and I can certainly sing loud, so when the next opportunity to march comes, maybe I’ll go there and stay as long as possible.

Those 30 minutes might count for something.


The Mother of All Causes
-------------------------------------

For more of my humor, go here.

Monday, October 10, 2016

The Donald Trump Groupie and Fan Club (Again!)

Humor is one of the best ways to battle hatred and bigotry.  It is in that spirit that I post this piece.  I believe that Donald Trump and his ideas are dangerous, and I strongly hope he will not be elected.  Using humor is one way to fight against him

Kathy Minicozzi

================

THE DONALD TRUMP GROUPIE AND FAN CLUB NEWSLETTER
October, 2016

Annabel Lee Longfellow Stump who always edits these newsletters won’t return my calls, unfriended me on Facebook and spits on my shoe when I go to talk to her.  I have nobody to correct grammar and spelling.  My ten-year-old son, who corrected me some on the last newsletter, didn’t want to do it again because he said it’s stupid and he doesn’t want to look stupid to the whole world.  I told him this newsletter doesn’t go out to more than ten people, which isn’t the world, and if he didn’t help me out I’d take away his iPhone for a week.  So I got him to edit for me.  If there are any mistakes, it’s his fault, not mine.

(The statements made in this newsletter are strictly those of my mother and have nothing whatsoever in the whole universe to do with me or any of my friends.  The author’s ten-year-old son, who can’t wait until he turns 18 and makes his escape.)

So I guess you all saw the two debates on TV.  Don’t you just LOVE the way our Donald can talk around any question they throw at him and end up talking about something else that has nothing to do with the question?  That’s a gift, I tell you.  Hillary can’t do that.  She stays right on the subject they want her to talk about except when she’s claiming that something Donald said wasn’t true.  Donald finds all kinds of bad things to say about her.  He really pays attention to all the gossip and loves to repeat it, which we all know is the best way to find things out, especially when someone is going after a job you want.

I admit I blushed a little (okay, a lot) when I played that video where Donald was talking like a sailor in a house of ill repute.  Well, men are like that.  If I met him and he grabbed me by the hoo-hah I’d just slug him and get it over with and then we could be friends because I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t do that again and get slugged again.  Men have been grabbing women and talking dirty since the time of Adam and Eve and women have either just taken it or hit the guy and told him off.  That’s the way the human race was created and that’s just the way it is.

Anyway, Donald apologized.  If a man says he’s sorry you have to forgive him even if you figure he didn’t mean it.  Donald apologized for talking trash and we just have to act like it was nothing, even if we won’t un-hear those words for a long time.  That’s only civilized, right?

If my husband ever did that to other women and I found out about it I’d divorce him, but that’s a whole other story.

I’ll have more to say in the next newsletter.

Respectfully submitted,

Melisande Albina Dummschlager (“MAD”)
President
The Donald Trump Groupie and Fan Club

=============


DISCLAIMER:  Aside from the name Donald Trump, all of the names in this piece came out of the author’s imagination and are not meant to represent any person, living or deceased.  In addition, The Donald Trump Groupie and Fan Club is a figment of the author’s imagination, and not meant to represent any group in existence at any time.

Friday, August 5, 2016

The Donald Trump Groupie and Fan Club

Humor is one of the best ways to battle hatred and bigotry.  It is in that spirit that I post this piece.  I believe that Donald Trump and his ideas are dangerous, and I strongly hope he will not be elected.  Using humor is one way to fight against him.  I usually steer clear of political humor, but I feel challenged to write this.

Kathy Minicozzi

================

THE DONALD TRUMP GROUPIE AND FAN CLUB NEWSLETTER
August, 2016

First off, the person who always edits everything I write, Annabel Lee Longfellow Stump, got mad at me yesterday and stomped out.  I counted on her to correct my grammar and stuff because she went one year to Community College before she flunked out.  So I got nobody to put this in high toned language.  My ten-year-old son, bless his heart, went in and corrected my spelling and put in some punctuation and took out some bad language, so at least this isn’t illiterate.

(I deny any involvement with this newsletter other than some minor editing, which was done under parental duress, and the ideas presented here are most emphatically those of my mother, not me.  The author’s unnamed ten-year-old son.)

Why do we drool and pass out over Donald Trump?  Well, that guy is HOT!  Okay, he looks like an old orangutan, and that hair isn’t going to ever lie right on his head.  He’s stuck on himself, he’s insensitive, he’s bigoted and he’s bad tempered.  But there are other things about him that cause us to ignore how he looks, talks and acts.  He’s super rich, he has a lot of power and he’s famous.  You can overlook a lot in a man if he has those three qualities.

And we all know he’s hung like a horse.  He said so himself, in front of the whole world.  And sticking his hands in the air was a lot more classy than showing himself.  You got to give him credit for that.

You hear a lot about a wall he wants to put up down along the border to keep the Mexicans out.  I got nothing against Mexicans.  Some of my best friends are Mexicans.  My daughter went out with a Mexican til I chased him off with a shotgun.  I’m just afraid the whole country of Mexico is sitting down there waiting to sneak across and steal all the low-paying, crummy jobs that a lot of us depend on and marry our kids and make us all speak Spanish, even if we still have trouble with English.  Well, Donald Trump has promised to protect us from all the poor folks down there who want a better life up here, and he figures building a wall will do it.  I don’t know how he figures to keep people from learning how to go over that wall, but I’m sure he’ll get up a plan of some kind.

As for that family who lost their son in Iraq, I’m a little suspicious of anyone named Khan.  You remember that Star Trek movie, The Wrath of Khan?  Well, it makes you wonder.  That Khan in the movie was a villain.  And his name was Khan.  Now we got a family named Khan.  Would you feel sorry for them, with that name?  I think our Donald remembers the movie and can’t separate those people from Ricardo Montalban with white hair and wrinkles.  That’s my story and I’m sticking to it because I don’t have a better one.

As for Hillary Clinton – well, isn’t one president in the family enough?  They just got to have TWO?  The rest of us don’t get that right.  Just cause she’s real smart and experienced and all don’t mean she has to go in and hog the president job for the Clintons.  She ought to give someone else a chance.

Yes, I know our Donald likes to talk and he says things he ought not to say in front of people, but I believe with all my heart that he don’t mean a lot of it.  He can’t mean a lot of it cause he’d be stupid if he did.  You also got to admire his wife for not knuckling under to what other people wrote for her to say.  She heard some good things from other people and used them.  How was she supposed to know that people actually pay attention to what Michelle Obama says?

Some people are scared that our Donald will turn out to be a dictator or something.  Well, I kind of like the idea of being told what to do.  When I have to think too much my head hurts.

Respectfully submitted,

Melisande Albina Dummschlager (“MAD”)
President
The Donald Trump Groupie and Fan Club

  
=============

DISCLAIMER:  Aside from the name Donald Trump, all of the names in this piece came out of the author’s imagination and are not meant to represent any person, living or deceased.  In addition, The Donald Trump Groupie and Fan Club is a figment of the author's imagination, and not meant to represent any group in existence at any time.

Sunday, March 6, 2016

8 Things I Will Not Do Today

1    I will not poke fun of Donald Trump.  It’s too easy to poke fun of a vain, vulgar, stupid, racist narcissist whose mental and emotional development probably ended in the fifth grade and who has all the physical attractiveness of a slug.  When it’s too easy, it isn’t fun.  Besides, he isn’t funny.  He’s America’s worst nightmare.
Worse than this one!  (I think that's him on the right.)

2.     I will not complain about having Writer’s Block.  I’m sitting down right now and I’m writing.  Words are coming out of my head and onto my computer.  Therefore, I will shut up and write something and stop whining.

3.     I will not sell my apartment and move to the farthest reaches of Outer Mongolia.  Donald Trump has not yet been elected President.  (Sorry.  I couldn’t pass that one up.)

4.     I will not go ice skating.  It isn’t that I don’t think it would be fun.  I think it would be great fun.  I just can’t ice skate.  That’s pretty important if you plan to go ice skating.

5.      I won’t win a Pulitzer Prize for my fiction.  I’ll wait a couple of years for that one.  I have to write a novel first.[*]

6.     I will not walk to Boston.  I will walk to the supermarket and back.  That’s all.  The only reason I will walk to the supermarket is that I live in New York City, where almost everybody walks because operating a car in this city is like trying to steer an ice cube through a glacier.

7.     I will not do my laundry.  I haven’t done it for a couple of weeks.  Why should today be different?

8.     I will not make Donald Trump jokes … OOPS!  I already said that.  Sorry.

Kathy Minicozzi is the author of Opera for People Who Don't Like It, available on Amazon.com in paperback and Kindle.


[*] And it has to be a good one.  That might be a problem.

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