Good morning, everyone! What a week we’ve got coming up. A tremendous week. The fall season is here, we’re working on huge tax cuts, and there’s a lot of optimism having to do with business in our economy. Also, we’re ending Obamacare. And I’m going to get the wall. But beyond all that, what I’m looking forward to the most is another seven days of infecting every little aspect of your daily lives.
Oh, you thought you might be able to block me out for even a moment? Good luck with that one. There will be no rest from having to think about me, or my administration, or the latest controversy I’ve thrown myself into. I am inescapable. My name, my face, my voice, my words, and those of my legions of surrogates—no matter how much you try to go about your normal life, I will find a way force myself in. MAGA!
I’m like a disease without a cure. There’s not a single thing I haven’t contaminated. News, entertainment, medicine, sports; if there’s a part of culture I haven’t ruined for you yet, just wait. This could be the week. I’ll either claw my way into your waking consciousness or just linger in the back of your mind, ready to pop out at any moment and remind you that I’m the president of the United States and will be for at least the next three years. You know that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach—the one that’s been there since last November? Well, it’s not going away this week, I’ll tell you that.
I will poison every second of quiet reflection that you previously enjoyed. No more sitting calmly with a coffee on a park bench. No more carefree drives with the windows down and the radio up. No more tranquil moments reveling in the splendor of a sunset. Just me festering in your brain, befouling all you hold dear.
The mind is funny like that sometimes. The second you’ve freed yourself from the burden of having to ponder my ironclad stranglehold on absolutely every facet of American life, there I’ll be again, ready to resume the endless cycle of fear, regret, anger, and shame. Go ahead, try and tune me out right now.
Donald Trump. Donald Trump. Donald Trump.
They never cover it in the fake media, but I do really enjoy the creeping sadness that exists every day I’m around. It’s a fantastic feeling. I get true joy knowing that somewhere out there, someone is just looking through their refrigerator, or chatting with their family, or waiting in line to buy groceries, and I suddenly weasel my way into their brain and ratchet up their stress about not only the future of this country, but also the rest of the world. It’s a different joy than how I felt as a private citizen, when only a small percentage of people were constantly nauseated by the mere mention of my name.
It’s much, much, much better.
So enjoy the precious few minutes you have each morning before remembering that I exist. Because that is all you will have before I begin my daily task of tainting everything you love, a list that, this week, may include: the World Series, Halloween, rock concerts, shopping, birthday cake, swimming pools, Christmas trees, makeup, vacations, watching movies, time capsules, family reunions, rollercoasters, end-of-year bonuses, video games, Broadway musicals, relaxing with friends, religious solitude, fine dining, a good night’s sleep, and the new iPhone, just to name a few.