Making of an eight-ISH-year-old’s birthday bash
Declassified minutes of final meeting for Donald Trump’s 80th birthday arrangements. Some names have been redacted.
“Mr President, some bad news. A new poll shows voters don’t want a UFC fight on White House lawns. Only 16% approve…” Am I up for a third term? “No, sir.” Then get on with it.
“The Claw is up, and the Octagon is ready, sir.” Did I tell you boys why I wanted the fight in an octagon, and why the Claw is 92ft tall? “No, sir.” You boys should have asked. Anyway, I thought and thought about it. And a quadragon seemed so ordinary.
“Quadrangle, sir?” Shut up. I’m telling you something for the books. It’s tremendous, you should write it down. Well, so I thought Pentagon next, but, meh. That’s Pete-level. Hexagon was okayish, but I didn’t want a hex on my birthday. And I didn’t like the sound of heptagon. But octagon was so incredible. Eight sides! And I’m eight-eight-ISH!
“Bless you!” Excuse me, and the claw is simply next level. First eighty, then ninety…two. It’s hugely symbolic. Of my life. That’s the reason we should keep it on the South Lawn. Presidents 250 years from now will look at it and remember me.
“Sir, we can’t. It’s a temporary structure.” So was Eiffel Tower, and it’s still there, isn’t it? Micro Macron runs up to its top every time he gets socked in the face, by you know who, he-he.
“He-he.” Now, how many fighters have you boys got? And don’t tell me they’ve turned all liberal-gibberal like the singers. “No, sir, they’re on – 14 have confirmed.” Good. I want to see blood. Lots of it. Vicious stuff, like the Gladiators. I would have built a Colosseum around White House, but…
“The courts, sir?” Crooked courts. “That’s a shame, sir. Imagine the Freedom 250 GP…cars racing around your Colosseum.”
Vroom, vroom, vooooom. You know, I would have kicked ass in the ring myself, but I have thin blood. It’s the aspirin I take daily. Doc won’t allow it. Otherwise, you know who would have walked away with the title.
“You, Mr President.” Yessir, that’s right. But that’s alright. I still kick ass all the time. Look at Iran. How I’ve whupped them all these months. Anyway, it’s late, boys. Are we done?
“Just one more thing, sir. The menu.” Ah, keep it simple. Tacos all round. And get them from Trump Tower Grill. Like I say, they’re the best.
Disclaimer
Views expressed above are the author’s own.
