Tweetle Dumb and Tweetle Dumber

Donald and Kellyanne were in the back of the Limo.  Kellyanne was reading her Book of Spells, and Donald was Tweeting, his tiny thumbs flying over the phone screen.

“So, K-K,” said Donald, “Once I do that ‘Naugration thing, and get the swearing and all, I can just Tweet laws, right?  I Tweet it, and America has to do it.”

“Donny, Donny,” said Kellyanne, “we’ve told you about the Constitution, and we showed you the Schoolhouse Rock film about a Bill and a Law.”

“Too long,” said Donald.  “That thing was three minutes long.  I’m an important, busy man.  Just give me the top line.”

“That little rock song, which was for 2d graders, is just about as condensed as we could get it, Donno.  Let’s try it again.  The president doesn’t make laws.  Congress makes laws, and the president either signs them or vetoes them.  Someone in the House or the Senate writes a bill.  Both houses debate it, and if both houses pass it, then it will come to you.”

“ZZZZZZZ, Who thought this crap up?  Where are you getting this?  Too complicated.  Not Trump enough.  Bills.  Debates.  Signing.  LOSERS.  I’ll just Tweet out the laws.  Or, you can go on Fox and tell them the laws.”

“Well, I’m glad to go on Fox for you, but it was the Founding Fathers who thought this up.  It’s the Constitution, Donny, you really need to finally take a look at it.”

“I love the Founding Fathers.  Great Founding. Great Fathers. But now there’s me.  And I have the best brain.  It’s a better brain because it’s a newer brain.  All those Founding guys have old brains.  I don’t need to read the Constitution.  I have lawyers to read papers and find loopholes.  Just get them to find the Tweet Loop, and get back to me.  I want to be putting out laws on my first day.”

Exasperated, Kellyanne finally shouts, “Donald, you can’t Tweet laws.  And Tweets are not laws, even Tweets from the president.”

“You get in my face again, Kellyanne, and I’ll fire you.  I do that, you know.  I fire people.  I’m famous for firing.”

“Oh, Donald, you’re cute.  You won’t fire me.  Remember, Donny, I own all those videos, and I have those negatives, and copies of your tax returns.  And, remember Don, dear, I recorded all of your phone calls during the campaign.  All of your overseas phone calls.”

“I didn’t make any overseas calls.”

“Russia, Donny, Russia is overseas.   THOSE calls.”

Don stewed, “Vlad said those calls were local calls now.  He said there’s no difference between our countries.”

“Whatever, Don.  But your SURE don’t want those calls released.  All that whining and begging is so unbecoming to you.”

“Humph.  Well, at least I can fire the Press Corp.  Get that done, will you?”

“No, Don, you can’t fire the press.”

“Look, they’re called the ‘White House Press Corps’, right?  And I’m the president, right?  That makes me the White House, so they work for me.  Fire them.”

“Don, White House Press Corps just means the people sent by newspapers, magazines, TV and such to report on the White House.  They work for the TV and publishers.  They don’t work for you.”

“I’m president. Everyone works for me.”

“Actually, Trumpie, no, as the elected president, YOU work for everyone else.  That’s democracy.”

Don was fumed.  “We’re gonna have to change that.  Bigly.  When I was President of Trump Properties, it meant I could fire people.”

Kellyanne assumed a teacherly tone.  “Well, this is a different kind of being president.  You are now a Public Servant.”

“I AM NO SERVANT! NO!  If I can’t Tweet laws at three in the morning, and I can't fire people who report my words, then just what is this presidency worth.”

“Well,” said Kellyanne, “since November 8^th, 2016, it’s not worth much.”

A Landslide or a Mudslide?

The Donald and yet another aide walk in:

“A landslide, I tell you, hugely, bigly, the best, the most landslide in history. Our History. Any History.”

The aide broke in, “Actually, Sir,…….”

“Don’t you actually me.  You sound like that sad Alec Baldwin.  What I say is actually, is actually.  And I actually won the Electrical College unanimously.”

“Sir, the count was 304 to 227.  Unanimous means getting all of the votes.  You didn’t.  And, you didn’t win the popular vote at all.”

“SHUT UP! I’m the popular one.  People love me.  I went on my ‘thank you tour’ so I could thank people by letting them cheer for me. Hillary is not popular.  She’s a nerd.  You know what we do to nerds.  If I say unanimous, then unanimous it is.  Ask any of my voters.”

“But sir, the meaning of words……”

“Don’t you dare argue with me.  That would be unpresidented.  No one who works for me argues with me.  Never.  My brain is bigger than theirs.  I have a brain.  A good brain.  And I make words mean what my brain tells me.  I’m going to be a great president.  The greatest.  I’m the first president who has never, not once, failed at anything.”

“Mr. Trump, now, I don’t think that’s quite true.”

“Name me one thing I’ve ever failed at.  One.  I bigly win.  Always. Everything.  Every time.”

“Sir.  You’re on your third marriage.  I’d say the first two marriages were failures.”

“WRONG!  WRONG!  I made two successful strategic upgrades to newer, better models.  Success.  Trump success.   In fact, you might want to check Melania’s sell-by date.  It may be time for another, fresher model.  I have the expiration date tattooed on her left butt cheek.  Have her show you.  She’ll show her butt to anyone.  Just ask.”

“Are you really getting ready to trade her in?” asked the aide. “Is that why she isn’t going to the White House with you?”

“She’s staying at the Tower.  Ivanka and I will be sleeping at the White House.”

“Sir?  Sleeping?  By that, do you mean.”

“I mean sleeping.  Beds.  Night time.  You KNOW my daughter is one hot piece.”

“Sir, now that you’re going to be president, I think you need to stop saying some things, or Tweeting them.  You need to think about your words, Sir.”

“My words are the best words. Real words.  Words that mean and stuff.  And my brain will think if I need it to.  Best brain.  Don’t want to use it up.”

The aide tried again, “Sir, back to the No Failure thing.  What about your bankruptcies?  Weren’t those failures?  Isn’t that what bankruptcy is, a bailout of a failure?”

“Punk, that just shows why I’m a billionaire, and you aren’t.  The way I do bankruptcy isn’t failure.  It is successfully making other people pay my bills.”

“I think your being a billionaire has something to do with the millions you inherited,” muttered the aide.

“See.  I was the successful sperm.  I’ve been a success from the first squirt.”

“I don’t think you want the press to hear you talk like that, Sir.  And what about your failed University?”

“I made millions more than I had to pay those chumps to settle.  That’s success.  Bigly.  Tens of millions in success.  And, why should I care what the press hears.  No one wants to hear the press.  I’ll just out-tweet ‘em.  My voters get their news from Tweets from me.  The press is sad.”

“Ok, Sir, then one last example, we’ll forget the airline, the steaks, the other businesses that didn’t make it.  But, Sir, how can you call a closed and boarded up casino a success.”

“Easy.”

“How?”

“You’re fired.”