Trump stands in front of the Washington Monument and announces, “I am a big old sex maniac and flinging my bloated, geriatric, seemingly waterlogged body against women is only thing that makes me feel anything. I want everyone to be free to enjoy sex as much as I do.” He goes on to declare that, by executive order, he is repealing the Hyde Amendment to allow all women access to reproductive services. Birth control will also be free, and available in 7-Elevens. Confetti shoots out of the top of the Washington Monument in a phallic display which, while sophomoric, members of both parties still agree was “pretty funny” and “oddly beautiful.”
Trump calls a press conference where he personally apologizes to every woman who has accused him of sexual assault. He admits everything. He reveals that he was reluctant to release his tax returns because he has liquidated all his savings to form a non-profit that helps victims of assault. He pledges that as soon as he is out of office he will accept jail time for any crimes on which the statute of limitations has not expired. Obviously, Bret Kavanaugh is off the bench, replaced, without explanation or need for explanation, by Sandra Oh.
Trump strips off the chicken cutlets he has assembled into a “body” to reveal himself to be beloved feminist author bell hooks. “The last four years have been a performance art piece about how in thrall Americans are to toxic masculinity,” she announces. Obviously, she will start doing good stuff, now, and stop treating this “presidency” as an insane way to make a point.
He gets literally any dog, and the dog announces he is a good man. (The dog can talk.)
Trump opens up the White House to the many refugees at our border. “This is the People’s House,” he declares solemnly, “and these people who saw America as a beacon of hope, are the bravest souls I know.” He is caught on tape telling a five-year-old refugee, “I love you more than all of my own children, but especially more than Donald Trump Jr. That guy is the worst.”
Trump invents a machine that reduces carbon emissions by 100%, solving the climate crisis, but which also, somehow, allows everyone to keep taking planes as much as ever. Despite the indisputable fact that this invention was solely the product of his work, Trump insists that all credit should go to his personal hero, 15-year-old environmental activist Greta Thunberg.
You awake to the sweet smell of coffee and your favorite kind of pancakes. Trump is standing in the kitchen wearing an apron. It is inexplicably not scary. “Americans should not fear the mechanization of labor,” he declares while casually flipping a pancake. “Rather, they should welcome it. That’s why I’m introducing a universal basic income to our increasingly industrialized society, so you can pursue your intellectual passions while robots handle manual tasks. In the future, humanity shall be defined by our minds, not our bodies!” He runs off, leaving $4000 in your bank account and delicious pancakes on your table.
The dog announces that Trump is in favor of reparations, and co-authors an executive order to allow them. (The dog can also write.)