It is the first press conference of Trump’s reign, and TRUMP sits before a CNN REPORTER, a BREITBART REPORTER, and a FOX REPORTER, with KELLYANNE CONWAY by his side.
Let me begin with smiles and bonhomie
For all Americans and everyone,
Including, yea, my many enemies
And those who’ve fought and lost ’gainst me — I won! —
Such catastrophic losers they, that here
They know not what to do. You need not fear!
With me, you’ll win, win, win, win, win, and win,
Until, like some fat child o’erstuff’d with sweets —
Melania’s great with Barron’s meals, just great —
You’ll have consum’d such a surfeit of good
That more would sicken you. The eagle tweets,
And while some fret ’bout what that screech portends,
You’re on the winning side with me, my friends.
Just stay my friends. Trust me. All will be well.
Behold, such Christian charity as we
Forgive our foes. Who dareth Trump decry
As flame-fac’d or revenge-obsess’d? Not he!
Hark now, hear more o’ this soothing lullaby.
America is burning dark in Hell!
George Washington, if he’s alive, must weep
That Washington and politicians reap
The benefits of all, and yet share none,
While fact’ries rust and so much goes undone.
Th’establishment has risen while you fell,
Their wins have not been yours, their zinfandel
Of celebration drunk by them alone,
While struggling fam’lies ’cross the land lay prone.
Those hypocrites, always themselves enriching!
The times call’d for a leader deaf t’their bitching.
And you found Trump! This moment, now, is yours
As are this country’s newly safen’d shores!
Forgotten man, remember’d will you be
And rais’d above all others — save just me!
No more will mothers and their children thirst
In inner cities black and drug-accurst,
No more will crime and gangs despoil your dreams.
I am encourag’d by your fearful screams
To start my term with this, my solemn vow:
The carnage stops right here and stops right now!
’Tis hard to say of which nation Trump speaks.
Is this the USA, or some backwater,
A fail’d, dead state? The story that he seeks
To spread is one of widespread, wholesale slaughter.
I ne’er said that! Thou fraud, thou fake, thou flunky!
Thy channel is a pox upon us all!
Thou lightweight rock-brain’d loser! Keening bore!
Yea, no one likes you! Why are you still here?
Mr. President, pray tell,
How will you fight this wholespread, widesale slaughter?
I like that question. See, how hard was that?
I know not why the media complex fails
To even get the simplest matters right.
Since I apprentic’d them in showmanship,
You’d think that TV stations would know well
Who, what I am, yet all the coverage
They have to offer’s so non-flattering,
That it disgusts me, like a cover’d whore
Or an uncover’d trollop past her prime —
I’ve seen the best, you know; the grandest dames,
My pageant judg’d the nation’s beauties fair,
A judgment I inform’d behind the scenes,
Investigating flesh in locker rooms.
That makes me smart. One must ignore the rules
To win the game sometimes, ask anyone.
Consider all the business laws I broke —
But never mind that now. Behold this pen!
It fits so snugly in my large strong hand —
Yet, sir, the nation waits with bated breath
To hear your proclamations save us all.
Your station has been kind to me, lap-fox,
So I will show you patience, more perhaps
Than you are showing me. To business, then!
I order the erection of a wall,
As mighty an erection as you would
Expect from towering Trump, to bar the door
To lazy thieves of sixteen-hour jobs
From Mexico, that treach’rous trouser-stain
That runs beneath America’s left leg.
Hear, hear! Within that fence,
Build catapults to hurl such man-waste hence!
I now pull up our drawbridge, banning all
From seven deadly terror-loving states,
Iraq, Iran, Somalia, Syria,
Sudan, Afgha — er, Libya, Yemen, Saud —
No, just those seven, who house not my friends.
’Tis grand to see this petty purge address’d!
But seriously, I thought you spoke in jest
Of Syria, which is my native land —
Then thou art ban’d! Thou still don’t understand?
Thy access is revok’d. Take him away!
Enter two SECRET SERVICE AGENTS, who take the FOX REPORTER by the arms. SECRET SERVICE AGENTS and FOX REPORTER exeunt.
I had one more decree. What was my thought?
’Tis true that terrorism makes assault
Upon one’s peace of mind, as you all see!
That Syrian hath made me lose my place —
Ah! Most important, I demand the truth
About my base support must be reveal’d!
I won the most real votes! Who dares say not?
Three million voters voted false, ’tis true!
And who dares say my coronation crowd
Was not the largest in all history?
Two million attendees falsely stay’d home,
Then falsely join’d a protest the next day!
My truth is truth! And truth is trust in Trump!
Its trumpets trump all strumpets who’d deny
My thrusting triumph! Mine and all of yours,
For truly, ’tis all you, my audience,
And your well-demonstrated faith in me
’Twill make our country great again. God bless.
Observe, you all, what Donald truly meant,
For he is at his best when he addresses
The deepest problems of our government
Such as the immigrational excesses
That fell’d our structures, struck by hijack’d planes
While Muslim crowds in Jersey cheer’d —
Those traitor crowds rail’d only in Don’s brains.
Must you repeat fore’er what one can’t know?
Indeed, if you heard forty times a day
That Bannon pulls the wings off butterflies,
In time, you would believe. So let’s just say
Some facts can have alternative replies.
No news team thought that Trump would win th’election,
And thus, none can now judge our new direction.
The time for talk is done, ’tis action’s hour.
We’ll shake and rouse this city built on power.
Exeunt KELLYANNE CONWAY, BREITBART REPORTER.
Yet action brings reaction: so saith science,
And tyranny, when naked, seeds defiance.