Enter BREITBART REPORTER. Enter BANNON.
Congratulations, sire, on your return
To Brietbart journalism, your root-soil,
Though some yardsticks would say you never left.
We true conservatives have serv’d the cons
To pros’ prosaic milkblood government,
In words assaulting feminazi Jews,
The gun-controlling diaper-soiling brats,
The anti-Nazi Nazis, Muslims, trans,
The sexist, racist races, climate frauds,
And institutions’ madness inmate-run,
Conserving your example ’til this hour
You have return’d to us from public life,
Entirely voluntar’ly, to be sure.
Be sure indeed, for none may doubt my smile.
Now ICE flash-freezes fam’lies at the hands
And shatters their conjunction, with t’without,
Now Puerto Rico, that unwanted blot
Unwhite, doth drown unaided in the storms,
And with strategic force our leader throws
Dry toilet rolls at wretched refuse-shore,
Impressing deep ‘pon fragile lib’ral nerve.
America we first and only serve,
And now this fact is clear to all, I find
I need fresh bramble-bush to wake my mind.
BREITBART REPORTER’s phone chimes.
A moment, sire. I’ve posted sentries to
Report the news of relevance to us,
By keywords trigger’d, much like those we scorn.
I see from summary our leader tweets
And cites your name. Portentous omen this!
Enter TRUMP, tweeting, as BREITBART REPORTER looks at his phone.
Steve Bannon lost his job and lost his mind,
And wept like whimp’ring woman in divorce,
As from my wealth my blade his fortunes cut.
These spare one hundred forty characters
Do cast thy character in diff’rent light.
I doubt our institution can support
The weight of such learned opprobrium.
BANNON (taking out phone).
Misunderstanding’s easy to correct,
And grace, for those who seek it, can be found.
BANNON places a call on his phone. Enter TRUMP, on his own phone.
Thou interrupt’st my television. Speak.
Your Excellency-President, I praise
Your deft manipulations of the press.
Long hath TV and papers crav’d the tale
Of rift between your allies, pompous prigs.
Thanks to your wit, they now shall be off guard
And offer half-prewritten essays up,
Disguising expectation as new thought:
“The Don Slams Steven!” “Bannon Trump’d!” “Steve Stav’d!”
This frees our friendship to be soil’d anew
In shadow, where it ever flower’d best.
Thou understandest much, my counselor.
Truly thou hast one of the brainest bigs,
And I have half-forgotten why thou left,
Unless thou wert returning to the front
To fight our culture wars with bayonet.
Steve Bannon’s been much better not involv’d.
I said, “Keep Steve at Breitbart, he does well.”
But all my fans are being all involv’d.
BANNON (to BREITBART REPORTER).
And now you glimpse the clockwork of the state.
BREITBART REPORTER (aside).
Forsooth gears’ turn with circling teeth I see,
And I must weigh our loyalty to Trump,
Umbrella shelt’ring us from coldest rain,
Against mistrust in him who holds the stem,
Affecting casualness in his grip.
Should that grip break, then seize rain-shield must we,
Or melt as wicked witches world-betray’d.
Trump biddeth Bannon be here; here he be.
But should his name once more the Don displease,
In weeks or months to come, we’ll sacrifice —
Enter TRUMP, tweeting, with JARED KUSHNER and STEPHEN MILLER.
I am reminded Sloppy Steve’s a slob
Unfocus’d in his raiment and his thoughts,
Tho’ any false reports of anarchy
Within my council are but desp’rate lies,
Such chaos that exists is all his fault.
These new expanded tweets I quite enjoy.
My voice hath been too silent, many say.
Exit TRUMP, JARED, MILLER.
This is unfortunate, but I now show
The character of which you spoke. For he
Who finds reward for service, serving’s naught
But service of the self. ’Tis truer test
To serve without reward, yea, even hate
From those for whom one fights. I know you shall
Not find this difficult, for Breitbart scribes
Doth model mod’rate thoughtfulness. Do speak.
Exit BREITBART REPORTER.
This silence bodes not well. I’ve plac’d too much
Of my own faith in those who have nonesuch.
Enter BREITBART REPORTER with morning star. Exeunt, BANNON pursued.