Trump II Nightmares (part I)
It would be impossible to make a complete list of everything that frightens me about Trump's second term, but I'll try—starting now.
It’s another Friday, and I’ll admit that I’ve been avoiding the news since election night, so I’m not going to dig into the nitty-gritty of Trump’s transition team, his plans to destroy us, and the puny Democratic response just yet.
Instead, I’ll provide a list of nightmare scenarios in order of how likely they are to happen based on my limited knowledge and level of optimism, which is admittedly at an all-time low. This is only a partial list (hence the “part I” in the headline), so don’t worry if I missed one or more of your fears: I’m sure I’ll get to them once I start reading the news again. (Of course, you’re also welcome to send them along—misery loves company. This is why I bother to write at all.)
How did I come up with this? And why put us all through the torture of it? Well, I’ve been told by psychologists (and, more importantly, my wife) that in lieu of alcohol, drugs, and other tried-and-true methods for fighting anxiety, journaling can help. For the last two nights, I found myself ruminating around bedtime—so I picked up a pen and decided to put it all out there: Face my fears like a man. (Yet, I’m not sure so many “men” keep a journal. Fuck them if they don’t.)
I hope you enjoy. Just because we’re terrified, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t laugh at Emperor Orange and his Legions of Dumb.
A Partial List of My Worst Trumpy Terrors
Trump will fill his presidential cabinet with bowls, cups, and other empty vessels (like Tulsi Gabbard).
Trump will cut Medicaid and wonder why it hasn’t bled out yet—he’ll spare social security in order to protect women from socialists.
Trump will put all unaccompanied migrant children in cages (again)—and throw his sons in with them if they get out of line.
Trump will ban every book he can’t understand, so America will be stuck with only picture books and Mein Kampf.
Trump will reduce television news to the Truman Show and be on it all day, every day—until he dies at age 95. Every bowel movement will be scrutinized by millions. There will be no other channels.
A second American civil war will commence once liberals grow some nuts—but they’ll lose anyway because they lack weapons, unity, and protection from ravenous squirrels (who will ultimately eat their nuts).
World War III will commence after China refuses to manufacture Trump’s tacky products, specifically Trumpy Trout, due to its resemblance to a glory hole.
Nuclear war will commence once Trump determines the exact coordinates of the Trump Baby Blimp—but the blimp will escape unharmed, and billions will die.
J.D. Vance will devirginize the couch of every woman in America—starting with the cat ladies (he’ll push the cats out of the way first—they might scratch).
Elon Musk will artificially inseminate Ivanka, Trump will become insanely jealous, and a boring pay-per-view fight will ensue, refereed by a drunk and flatulent Rudy Giuliani. Trump will claim victory. Melania will puke. Ivanka will cry. America will stomp and cheer. The world will laugh.
I’ll stop here for now. I think you get the gist: We’re in a lot of trouble.
Stay tuned for part two.