To Nuke or Not to Nuke Kenosha? That is the Question

Season 2: Episode 2

Meanwhile, when we last visited the alternate Trump universe, one timeline away… Trump’s harebrained insurrection succeeded in a wonky as hell overthrow of the rightful US government.

A gruesome house to house battle, dubbed The Blue Civil War, erupted to put the rightful President, Joe Biden, into the Oval office. And has so far cost 396,423 American lives.

Furious his son Don Jr. perished in the opening minutes of the Battle for George Floydland (formerly known as Kenosha), Trump has done the unthinkable — even for him — and ordered a strategic bomber to drop a North Korean tactical nuke, gifted by Kim Jung-un, on the Blue state of Wisconsin.

We now join…


A strategic bomber glides the starry skies over Lake Michigan beneath the full moon. In the bomber cockpit a heated argument rages between the pilot and co-Pilot.

“Orders are orders!” shouts the pilot.

“Not when the fucking order is to nuke a city on American soil for a delusional illegitimate president!” bellows the co-pilot.

Pilot and co-pilot reach for their pistols. BANG! Both shot through the forehead, the dead pilots slump over the bomber’s blood splattered controls. The bomber nose dives into Lake Michigan and sinks for the murky depths.

The desperate bomber crew wrestle to open escape hatches as the cabin rapidly fills with water.

Water flows from an ornate sink tap. Trump brushes his teeth, drowsily gazing at himself in the Presidential bathroom mirror. Trump almost jumps out of his orange skin when his reflection stops brushing and says, “Stop your compulsive brushing and listen up.”

“Not listening! La-la-la! Can’t hear you!” says Trump as angrily brushes his teeth, bleeding gums and all.

Trump’s body man Robert calls out from the bedroom where he is turning down the bed for Trump, “Everything OK, sir?”

“Peachy,” grouses Trump sticking his tongue out at his pissed off reflection and resumes brushing.

“Everything is definitely not ‘peachy’. You fucking ordered a nuclear strike on American soil!” says Trump’s reflection.

“Relax. The bomber sunk off the coast of Milwaukee. Zero casualties.”

“What about the bomber crew?” says the Trump reflection. As he waves his arms the bathroom in the reflection becomes an opulent Mar A Lago bathroom. “Here in my reality, where I bravely called off the insurrection to regroup and keep donations rolling, you’re making me glad about my peaceful strategy. You’re a moron!”

“Who you calling a moron, Moron? Your aborted insurrection was a way, way bigger dud than my sunken bomber.”

Robert finally pokes his smiling Black face into the bathroom, “Damed Adderall’s making you talk to yourself again, sir. Gotta listen –“

Trump yanks Robert into the bathroom and shouts as points to the mirror, “Look! Look with your big Black eyes! See him! There! There’s the pathetic loser Trump from another universe who got his fat ass thrown out of the White House!”

Trump’s reflection laughs spitefully, but all Robert sees or hears in the mirror is himself and the manic Trump beside him. Robert hoarsely whispers, “God blessed the USA tonight when that bomber crashed into Lake Michigan.”

Ignoring Robert, Trump spins hearing Blue State President Biden’s voice coming from the bedroom TV flat screen and he shoves his way past his befuddled body man.

“My fellow Americans, the illegitimate ruler of the Red States, dubbed Trumptopia by the mad king himself, Donald J. Trump launched a nuclear strike on George Floydland, formerly known as Kenosha Wisconsin, tonight. Fortunately, through divine providence, the stealth bomber carrying the nuke crashed 15 miles off the coast of Milwaukee before delivering its North Korean supplied dirty bomb,” says the fuming Biden.

“Dirty bomb? How dare he!” says Trump to the emotionless Robert. “Kim’s beauty was a Neutron bomb that only kills people. All the real estate would have been left intact.”

Robert mutes Biden and slowly twists to Trump,saying loudly, “‘Only ‘kills people’? You mean like my brother and my whole family who live in Kenosha?”

“George Floydland. Uh, Kenosha is now called Geroge Floydland. Why’d you people name it like that, Robert?” says Trump patiently waiting for an answer.

“No idea and I frankly I don’t give a fuck, sir. Lemme ask you a question. You mind, sir?” says Robert.

“Seems like no matter what I say you’re gonna. Knock yourself out,” says Trump tugging on a fluffy red robe.

“Did you actually believe that shit in your speech tonight, about that nuke, might be able to end the civil war quicker? Or was that something you just made up, just doing your thing?”

“Thing?” puzzles Trump.

“The thing you love to do. You know, lying about shit so hard you can smell it,” says Robert quivering with rage.

“Don’t get smart with me. That is unless you want to be the first nigger lynched on the White House lawn.”

Robert pulls Trump’s gold plated .45 from from under Trump’s heavily embroidered pillow, “Fuck this! I am so done actin’ the house nigger with you, you faded frat boy!”

“A joke. I was joking, Robert!”

“A joke about lynchin’. Ha fucking ha. Now get on the fucking floor and get your tiny hands behind your thick skull,” says Robert, ignoring the pounding at the door and shouting of Trumptopia Troopers.

“Whoa, Robert. I know things have been a little tough on your people in the Blue States, but that’s no call to go all Samuel Jackson on me with the potty mouth routine,” says Trump using all his charm as he awkwardly lays face down on the floor.

“Huh. “Little tough’ on my people, motherfucker? 93 fucking percent of the casualties of the Blue — ain’t nothin’ civil about this motherfucking Civil War — are fucking Black. What a Goddamn shit show on both sides. I mean fuck Joe Biden up the ass too for his “Who’s the best Whitey War” while 3 times more of my people are still dying of the goddamn Covid than you white devils!”

“I don’t know where to go with that. I can barely understand you talking all jivey and shit all of sudden. Where’s my sweet Black pal?”

“Pal? A pal does not change your damn diaper. A pal does not have his brother’s family living in Kenosha threatened with a –” says Robert, annoyed to be cut off by Trump.

“George Floydland. Uh, Kenosha is now called George Floydland. Why’d you people rename it like that, Robert?” says Trump patiently waiting for an answer.

“You are so fucking losing it, Donnie boy. Asked me that dumb ass question two minutes ago,” says Robert tying Trump’s hands with the cords off the curtains.

“Careful with the curtains, they’re a gift from Putin. Come on. Tell me why Kenosha changed it’s name to George Floydland.”

“How the fuck should I know why the people of Kenosha, site of the first Red states attack in the USA that killed almost every Black person in mother fucking Kenosha, except my brother Freddie and his eight kids, all nephews, while Biden was busy in France –”

Trump tries to turn over and Robert pistol whips him, “Stay rock-still motherfucker! Now where was I?”

Breathing laboriously, Trump manages to say, “Outta your mind. My men will break down that door and shoot you, unless I make this… O-O-O-OK.”

Robert grins that Trump is having trouble breathing on the hardwood floor. “Perhaps, Mr. White Racist President, as you ain’t breathin’ so good layin’ on your big old belly, like George Floyd did — minus two cops layin’ on his back and one mother fuckin’ Chauvin perched on his neck — might help you to understand how it felt when your Nazi shock troops unleashed nerve gas on my Kenosha people and took their damn breath away.”

“That was General Bannon! Donald Trump had nothing to do with the gassing of innocent Blacks in Kenosha.”

“Don’t ya mean, George Floydland, Mr. Real President?” says Robert putting his knee to Trump’s neck.

“Sorry! Sorry, Robert! Don’t do this!” gasps Trump.

“Do what?” chuckles Robert.

Trump barely gets the words out, “Choke… me… out… like… Floyd.”

The sound of an axe hacking away at the secure door makes it hard to hear either man, so Robert raises his voice, “I ain’t choking you out, bro! Just helping you understand that maybe your Trumptopia Red troops asphyxiating 3,210 Black people in Kenosha coulda, you know, inspired the city council of mostly White crackers to rename Kenosha George Floydland.”

“Why would the hell would they do that?’ says Trump, his face starting to turn blue from Robert’s knee on his neck.

“Fuck you, Trump. Ya’all’s stallin’ ‘while your white boys knock that door in, ain’t ya? Get up, fatso!” shouts Robert yanking Trump to his feet just as the reinforced door bursts open. An elite swat team of three beefy rednecks bursts through the shattered door into Trump’s White House bedroom.

The blonde haired blue eyed Swat Team leader tries to take aim on Robert, but Trump is squarely in the way, so he shouts, “Release Real President Trump! Do it now. Do it now, nigger!”

“Chill the fuck out, Fritz Von Swat Leader. Drop all your God damn weapons or this old as fuck frat boy here gets it.”

The swat team look at each other in confusion.

“NOW, YOU PALE-ASSED MOTHERFUCKERS!” barks Robert, jamming the gold plated .45 into Trump’s mop of orange hair.

“Do what he says! Do what he says!” barks Trump. The Swat team all reluctantly drop their weapons.

Robert cracks a victorious smile and calmly says, “Nice work, boys. Now pay real good attention to what ya’all gotta do next.”

Half an hour later Robert, Trump in tow, exits the White House onto the smoke choked front lawn. They cross the White House lawn for the waiting Marine One chopper. Robert tosses Trump aboard and gives a bow to the pissed off swat team.

“Fuck!” shouts the swat team leader who watches helplessly along with dozens of soldiers as the chopper lifts off into the DC night sky… and EXPLODES

Sirens blare as the fiery twisted wreckage Marine One crashes into the Washington Monument.

Meanwhile 200 feet below the surface of Lake Michigan, amidst the floating bodies of the dead strategic bomber crew, a 24 hour countdown clocks lights up on the North Korean nuke.


As always my handy disclaimer that this story is of course a work of pure fiction about an alternate universe. It is in no way a true reflection of the kind and compassionate real-life Donald J Trump, and his charming GOP enablers or for that matter the supposed good guys in this dark comedic tale.

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We are adding new episodes to Season three MAR A LAGO PRISON episodes every two weeks and Season One and Two episodes we are moving over from another blog on a regular basis. Subscribe to be notified and click the TFD EPISODES in the menu bar above to read all.


Season 3: Episode 1

Hey, It’s Ken Sheetz here with a reading of “Trump’s Fever Dream.” This episode. Episode 1 of Season 3 is titled #MarALagoPrison.

Sweat-soaked, Donald J Trump bolts awake from yet another fever dream that plague him frequently since he caught Covid in April 1, 2020. Six months before the Trump of our parallel reality did. Trump rubs his leathery freckled neck and says in relief, sinking back into his pillow, “Wow. Rebel General Michelle Obama hung me from her yacht’s yardarm to get my nuclear secrets. Too real. That black bitch must really want to kill me!”

Drowsy in the super-king bed poster bed beside him, gorgeously lit by the Florida sun, Melania groans, “You’re no visionary, Donald. Terrible nightmares you deserve for selling nuclear secrets to Putin.”

Trump grumps, “Mine to sell!”

Furious, Trump swings his puffy feet from the bed and shuffles for the ornate bathroom, oblivious to a new razor wire fence furiously under construction just past the swaying palm trees outside his soundproof Mar-A-Lago bedroom windows.

Donald sleepily pulls down his red silk pajama and plops down upon his gold-plated toilet. He picks up his cell phone and begins to one-finger-type a Truth Social Post “We Won!” when the phone in his tiny hands rings loudly. Almost jumping out of his orange skin, Trump sees the photo ID of his Black body man Robert Tulsa, the Walt Nauta of this alternate reality one timeline away. Trump groggily answers the call on speaker, “Yeah?”

“Boss, seen the razor wire?!” says a worried Robert.

“Razor what?”

“Look out your window!”

“Mind I finish my morning dump first? Tell me!”

“Army Corp of Engineers is here! And, and…”

“And what? Spit it out, Robert!”

“There’s over a hundred guys buildin’ a 15 foot high fence ’round Mar-A-Lago!”

Bare-assed, Trump hops off the gold toilet and struggles to get up on his tiptoes to peer out the high bathroom window. His orange puss goes pale as he sees a prefab guard tower getting lifted into place by a Black Army Corp Of Engineers worker, operating a noisy portable crane.

Trump bellows in rage, startling the sleeping Melania into an accompanying scream. She gasps, “Donald, you scare me half to death!”

Donald angrily motions the naked Melania to the bedroom window. “Look! Look, Melania! They’re turning my beautiful Mar-A-Lago into an Auschwitz!”

Melania drolly pulls on a robe and gazes out the window calmly offering, “Huh. Surprised it’s taken the stupid Democrats this long to lock you up.”

“Would it fucking kill you to be supportive for once?!” shouts Trump as he storms from the bedroom.

Melania sobs after him, “God knows I’ve tried! But you always make mess of everything! Now I am prisoner stuck with you in this run down mausoleum! How will I shop? Fucking Amazon?”

Dozens of half dressed Mar-A-Lago guests and low ranking MAGA politicos in party hats, march slowly for the front gate, suitcases in tow past grim armed FBI Agents. An angry tall bearded guest, dressed only in polka dot boxers, turns to his dazed wife. “Donnie musta lost his case.”

His wife chuckles and says, “Ha! Which case?” Her angry laughter at her own joke is cut short as a white terry cloth robe wearing Trump races past for the front gate to the “oohs” of the guest crowd.

“Rogers! shouts Trump to the turned back of a tall muscular blonde-haired Secret Service agent.

Special Agent Rogers, a hip thirty-something, spins to Trump from a conversation he’s having with a young Hispanic Army Corps of Engineers supervisor. Rogers smiles sheepishly and brightly offers, “President Trump, I’m sure you are wondering –“

“I fucking won the 2024 election last night! This anyway to treat the new President Elect?”

“But you lost your J6 case same day, sir.” says Agent Rogers sheepishly.

“That Black bitch judge had it in for me! She and that smug Jew Smith can’t turn my beautiful Mar-A-Lago into a fucking concentration camp!”

“Sir, a little fencing helps my guys do our job. A lot of angry voters want you, um ah, gone,” offers Agent Rogers.

Before Trump can retort the Army Corps of Engineering supervisor shoves a cell phone between Agent Rogers and Trump and says, “President Biden for you on Zoom, sir.”

Joe Biden grins from the cell phone at Trump, “Mornin’, Don. Sorry for the short notice on the Secret Service protection we’re putting up for you. All on the taxpayer’s dime I might add.”

Trump shouts, his face beat red, “Protection?! That what you call razor wire top of ugly as fuck chain-link fences and kicking out all my election win celebration guests?”

“Little early to party when I’ve not conceded don’t you think, Donald?” says Joe sweet as pie, while Trump’s valet in this reality, Robert, runs up to the trio out of breath, senses the tense vibe and instantly wishes he’d stayed in the mansion.

“You senile old son of a bitch! I beat you fair and square in the record landslide!” roars Trump.

“Ah. My three years younger and way outta shape, fellow senior citizen, you overreached, like always, faking up a landslide. Ha. A landslide when my administration has restored law and order to this country and we have a roaring economy to boot. I’m not joking around here.”

“Hurts when the foot is on the other shoe, Joe?”

Robert timidly offers, “I think you mean the shoe is on the other foot, boss.”

“Shut the fuck up, Robert. You heard me wrong! Get your Black ears cleaned!” bellows Trump in Robert’s sweet face, forgetting Biden.

“Record reports of election fraud. Real fraud this time we can prove in court, Donny boy,” says Biden calmly on the phone in the shaky hand of the Army construction supervisor.

“Donny boy? Call me President-Elect Trump you Catholic son of bitch!” says Trump snatching the phone to his face.

“Don, the best you’ll get from me is the former guy,” says Biden, leaning closer in the phone’s view screen. “I don’t know how your buddy Putin hacked our voting machines, but my DOJ is gonna find out one way or another before January 20th.”

“You mean January 6th, 2025, don’t ya?”

“Zip it. I don’t have any more time for your lies and threats, Donny boy. I’m still unquestionably our president for at least the next 11 weeks and dealing with the riots of millions of people in a dozen cities of every race, color and creed. Good American voters Dem and Rep alike who believe their vote was stolen in your Russkie rigged 2024 election!”

“You can’t do this to me!” shouts Trump, snatching the phone to his face, garnering rubbernecking from the exiting Mar-A-Lago guests pouring into waiting buses.

“How’s it feel to not get a concession from your opponent, wise guy?” laughs Biden.

“I’ll see you and your boy Hunter swinging from General Michelle Obama’s yacht yardarm!” shouts Trump.

“What in hell are you bringing Michelle into this for?” puzzles Biden.

“Ha! I know you take your marching orders from the mastermind Obamas!” shouts Trump, a bit unsure of himself for bringing his bad dream into all this.

“Lunatic! The fence is for your protection until you finish your appeals for the J6 conviction and/or we clear up your 2024 election shenanigans!” says Biden as he grins while ending the call.

Trump smashes the phone at the Army’s Corp of Engineer supervisor’s feet.

Robert scratches his head and cautiously asks Trump, “What next, sir?”

“Coffee. I need a fucking coffee.”

The line of exiting party goers weakly applaud Trump as he storms past them. Behind Trump’s back Robert encourages the small crowd to applaud louder… but they don’t.

“March off to your busses, sheeple! I hope the Feds drag all of you off to prison to be shot!” Trump paces off for the main compound, a shaken Agent Rogers and Robert Tulsa close behind.

A man shouts from the gaggle of guests, “I love you President Trump!”

A half dressed Ted Cruz steps in front of Trump, “Mind if I join you for a cup of Java, sir?”

Pleased Cruz is still on the Mar-A-Lago property for scheming Trump motions Cruz to follow.

Special Agent Rogers whispers into his wrist communicator, “The Fox is in the hen house. Repeat. The Fox is in the hen house.” Rogers nods hearing the response in his earpiece and follows Trump for the entrance to the main building of what is already hashtagged #MarALagoPrison by the ravenous press building at the gates past the Secret Service guards.

The press shout a thousand questions, but one voice stands out that makes Trump flinch, “Mr. Trump what do you think about Michael Pence saying, ‘You’re a fucker?'”


Getting serious for a moment, MAR-A-LAGO-PRISON is of course a work of satirical fiction, like all Trumps Fever Dream posting, based on an alternate quantum universe. It’s, of course, not meant to be a reflection of the real life Donald Trump or the people associated with him or any other people in the real world or his politics or property.

And a special thanks to my love and partner in everything Elizabeth England for her beautiful portrayal of Melania and the party guest.

And for all you wiseguys saying I don’t do a very good Donald Trump (in the audio version). That’s exactly how he sounds in the other universe.

Here’s the new podcast if you’d like to listen on your TV.

Trump Indicted For Election Fraud

Blogger Ken Sheetz here. What a time for a WGA strike! How we’d all love to hear from our beloved late night comics about Trump’s Big Indictment today after the 7 years they’ve been keeping us all sane. So as a poor subsititute using ChatGTP I am proud to present Cobert 2.0!

A android version of Colbert takes the Trump’s Fever Dream stage to the wild applause of the crowd.

Thanks, Ken! I’ll do my best Stephen homage on this historic occasion! Ladies and gentlemen, hold onto your sides, because because hopefully-forever-former President Donald J. Trump is facing more charges than a shopping spree at Bed Bath & Beyond!

According to special counsel Jack Smith, Trump’s alleged master plan was to defraud the entire country he used to lead and seeks to once again. Forget about international espionage; Trump went for the big leagues—conspiring to make himself king of America! Move over, James Bond, we’ve got a new supervillain in town!

And the cherry on top of Trump’s farcical cake? He tried to overturn the legitimate results of the 2020 presidential election with a wild mix of lies and buffoonery! Who needs reality TV when you’ve got Trump and his team of clownish Machiavellis trying to rig an election? This is a three ring indictment circus!

I mean, seriously, folks, Orange-You-Glad-I’m-No-Longer-President couldn’t accept defeat, so he hatched a plan to use “dishonesty, fraud, and deceit” to obstruct the electoral vote process.

Now, this is a historic moment for our nation, and not the good kind. It’s the first time a former president is facing criminal charges for trying to mess with the very foundation of our democracy. Move over, history books, we’ve got a new chapter that’s both ridiculous and embarrassing.

Trump fans, and there are still amazingly millions of you, this is your final exit ramp announcement. Walk away from the crashed Orange clown car and rejoin the real world.

Somehow our democracy’s guardrails held up, and Joe Biden got the keys to the White House. Trump’s plan to stage the “Great Election Heist” was an epic fail like most things he does. It’s like watching Wile E. Coyote try to catch the Road Runner, but instead of anvils, he’s got a Dominon voting dropped on his head!

And the cast of characters in this political sitcom is top-notch! White House aides like the Kraken and the Borat star Giuliani and sucked in staff testifying left and right, like it’s a soap opera. “As the White House Turns” has got nothing on this!

Now, Trump’s facing not one, not two, but three criminal conspiracies! The only thing missing is a catchy theme song! Imagine him strutting into court like a peacock, claiming he’s innocent because he’s “The Art of the Deal” personified!

One of the charges is “against the right to vote and to have that vote counted.” Wow, that’s like a supervillain trying to destroy the Justice League! You know you’ve hit rock bottom when you’re charged with crimes against democracy.

But Trump isn’t backing down; he’s crying “witch hunt” like a kid caught stealing candy from the cookie jar. And he’s asking why they waited so long to go after him. Maybe they were just enjoying the comedic value of his post-presidential shenanigans! Maybe it was such an tangled mess it took this long this long to sort out the puzzle. But it sure as hell was not because Trump’s tiny hands are clean.

Let’s not forget the real heroes of this story—those brave law enforcement officers who defended the Capitol on January 6th. They deserve a medal for dealing with the craziness that day. People died because one man became the worst sport in American history.

Will justice be served with a side of satire? Stay tuned! I’m Colbert 2.0 in colab with Ken Sheetz for Trumps Fever Dream! Time to wake up, everybody!

Applause and laugther fades as the house lights dims. If this post enhanced gave you a little of our MIA comic relief leave a tip. Or subscribe and share my new blog to your fellow fans of politcal humor.

Colbert 2.0 – RFK Jr.s Congressional Dump

Missing your Stephen Colbert during the WGA/SAG Strike with no end in sight? Then give it up for poor robo substitute Colbert 2.0!

The audience laughs and applauds.

Thanks, Ken! Ladies and gentlemen, gather ’round for another round of the “Trump’s Fever Dream” political circus of the century! It’s like “Saturday Night Live” meets “The Office” with a sprinkle of “The Twilight Zone” thrown in for good measure. Get ready to binge, cringe, and wonder if we’ve entered a parallel universe because we’re diving headfirst into Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s congressional testimony this week!

As “please don’t tell me he’s a Kennedy” strolled into the hearing congressional hearing room, I couldn’t help but imagine him back in his college days when he was a known heroin addict, ready to fight, with that voice of his that’s a cross of FDR and Katherine Hepburn, for the right to spread half baked conspiracy theories that have gotten people killed far and wide. I half-expected Booby J to break into song and dance, singing, “Conspiracies, conspiracies, let’s all have a conspiracy party! You’ll die of Covid laughing!”

The robot drummer hits a cymbal.

But wait, it gets better! According to this known black sheep of the Kennedy clan, Covid-19 is like a picky eater at a buffet, choosing its victims based on their race. I can see it now, Covid-19 with a little menu in hand, going, “Hmm, let’s see, I’ll have some Caucasians and a side of Black people, please!” It’s like a bad sitcom plot, but this time it’s real life! Well, in a mind-blowing way RFK Jr. did just awful that!

And hold on to your hats, folks, because RFK Jr, heavy on the junior, has some VIP immunity cards to hand out! Ashkenazi Jews and Chinese people are the chosen ones, apparently according to this Mad Max of a Kennedy.

I can almost hear the ghost of RFK whispering to the ghost of JFK and Teddy Kennedy about his mischievous problem child, RFK Jr., up to his conspiracy shenanigans in Congress.

RFK’s ghost can’t stop laughing as he says in fits and starts, “Jack, can you believe my college loafer Bobby J’s antics down there?!”

JFK’s ghost, with a wry smile, replys, “Well, little Bobby always had a flair for fiction! Remember that whopper he told his wife he was in Bora Bora researching malaria cures while he really was boinking his maid?”

Ted’s laughing ghost chimes in, “You should talk, Jacko1 Bet you a million golden harps Bobby never dreamed your junior would be like the X-Files meets Scooby-Doo!”

The Democratic congressional sides response to RFK Jr.’s scratchy voiced congressional nonsense? They were like parents trying to reason with a toddler who insists the moon is made of cheese. “Oh, Bobby, sweetie, bless your heart, but let’s stick to the facts, shall we?” They must have wished they had a mute button for the absurdity, or better yet a shinny red button to push to eject RFK Jr. into space where he can’t harm people with his unfounded vaccine lies.

RFK checkles, “Hey don’t drag Scooby into my son’s Covid nightmare!”

The robo band’s trumpter plays, “Wah-wah!”

Meanwhile, the Republicans, in this hearing from hell that almost made me think Bengahzi was legit, got all up in arms about that natural immunity’s part of the life-styles of the rich and stupid. It’s like they’re all of sudden the self-proclaimed “health gurus” of Congress, promoting natural remedies and essential snake oil to cure all ailments. I can see it now: “Step right up, folks, get your Ivermectin horse pills and UV lights to shine up your butt half-price!”

But the real highlight was Rep. Debbie Wasserman Schultz from Florida, giving Kennedy the verbal smackdown he deserved. It was like a wrestling match, with Wasserman Schultz delivering verbal body slams left and right. “Oh, you wanna talk conspiracy? Let me show you the door to reality!”

In the end, it was a political rollercoaster of epic proportions. We had conspiracy theories, vaccine skepticism, Hunter Biden’s laptop, and enough drama to rival a reality TV show. It’s like they’re all playing a game of “Truth or Dare,” except it’s all dares, and the truth is hiding in the corner, wondering what it did to deserve this.

So, folks, grab your popcorn, sit back, and enjoy the ongoing spectacle of lies versus truth. Until then, keep laughing, keep questioning, and as always, keep your sanity intact in this crazy political funhouse! Goodnight, everybody!

Applause and laugther fades as the house lights dims. If this AI enhanced substitute gave you a little of our MIA comic relief leave me a tip. Or subscribe and share my new blog to your fellow fans of politcal humor.


Videos I made on Twitter for the cause of defeating MAGA in 2022. Over ten million views in the account before Musk destroyed the site, once a bastion of democracy.

Donald’s On The John With Boxes

Hey Randy Rainbow,

Love your new little ditty you inspired to the Same Tune of LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS.

I thought I’d test ChatGPT to see if all the worry about AIs replacing real artists was justified.

Here’s what ChatGpt came up with after my expert prompting by the third try. Took three minutes total to create and it needed some human editing by yours truly because the AI seems to be reluctant at being critical of Trump. Presenting:


(Verse 1) In a trippy dimension, where secrets unfold, Trump on the toilet, with stories untold, Psychedelic colors, swirling through the air, A journey of chaos, a mind unaware.

(Chorus) Trump on the toilet with top secrets so grand, Lost in a haze, where reality is banned, In the kaleidoscope of his mind’s strange design, A psychedelic trip, where truth intertwines.

(Verse 2) Visions of power, like neon lights gleam, As Trump on the toilet, explores his dream, Whispers of conspiracy, dancing in his head, A psychedelic odyssey, where lies are spread.

(Chorus) Trump on the toilet with top secrets so grand, Lost in a haze, where reality is banned, In the kaleidoscope of his mind’s strange design, A psychedelic trip, where delusion intertwines.

(Bridge) The walls breathe with rhythm, the tiles come alive, Revealing the secrets, that strive to survive, But in this hallucination, where illusions are born, Will the truth ever emerge, or forever be torn?

(Verse 3) Through psychedelic galaxies, he wanders alone, Trump on the toilet, his mind fully blown, In this mystical realm, where nothing is clear, A kaleidoscope of secrets, whispering near.

(Chorus) Trump on the toilet with top secrets so grand, Lost in a haze, where reality is banned, In the kaleidoscope of his mind’s strange design, A psychedelic trip, where delusion intertwines.

(Outro) As the trip fades away, reality sets in, Leaving behind the mysteries, under his skin, The psychedelic journey may come to an end in jail, But the search for truth, it will always transcend the veil.

Now the new Randy Rainbow DONALD IN THE JOHN WITH BOXES inspiration to the same Beatles tune. And I’d say Randy easily clobbers ChatGPT. Hurray for humans.

Trevor 2.0 – The Cheeseburger Remedy

Announcer Ken Sheetz: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage “Trump’s Fever Dream” host, Trevor 2.0, powered by the collaboration between ChatGPT and Midjourney! Ladies and Gentlemen missing your comedy sweetener of the bitter news of the day give it up for Trevor Noah’s poor AI substitute, Trevor 2.0.

[Applause and virtual stage lights up]

Trevor 2.0: Thank you, thank you, Ken! I think? Poor substitute? I thought I was the nightmare of WGA writers?

In any case, welcome back to “Trump’s Fever Dream,” where we unravel the news absurdities of Donald Trump’s reign into digestible comedy. Now, folks, we all know Trump had a knack for burying his woes in more than just tweets. No, he has a love affair with a certain golden-arched culinary masterpiece— the cheeseburger.


Trevor 2.0: It’s like Trump believed that consuming enough cheeseburgers could somehow smother the flames of his controversies. “Scandal? What scandal? Pass me another double bacon cheeseburger!”

[Laughter and applause]

Trevor 2.0: And you know, I can’t help but imagine Trump’s emotions as he chomped down on those burgers. It’s like each bite was an attempt to chew away his worries, as if he believed that special sauce had the power to erase his legal troubles, when in reality is he has bad taste in lawyers willing to prostitute themselves.


Trevor 2.0: But let’s be honest, folks. No amount of pickles, onions, or secret sauce can cover up the mess soon to be three times indicted Trump finds himself in. It’s like trying to hide an elephant in a Big Mac box—it’s just not gonna work! Jack Smith’s challenge is not to fund evidence of Trump’s crimes but to distill it down.

[Laughter and applause]

Trevor 2.0: Now, we’ve already talked about Trump’s lackluster legal team, but I have to wonder if they spent more time at the drive-thru than in the courtroom. Maybe they thought ordering a supersized meal would lead to a supersized victory. Spoiler alert: it didn’t.


Trevor 2.0: But hey, who needs legal expertise when you can have a side of fries with a side of “alternative facts”? It’s like Trump’s legal strategy was inspired by a fast-food menu—quick, greasy, and ultimately unsatisfying.

[Laughter and applause]

Trevor 2.0: So, my friends, as we navigate this cheesy labyrinth of Trump’s presidency, let’s remember that even in the face of adversity, there’s always room for a good laugh. Because nothing says “I’m in denial” like burying your woes in a mountain of cheeseburgers and hoping they’ll disappear with each bite.


Trevor 2.0: That’s all for now, folks! Join us next time as we continue to unravel the mysteries of Trump’s fever dream. Stay tuned, stay hungry for justice, and remember, sometimes the most satisfying thing isn’t a cheeseburger—it’s holding those in power accountable.

[Virtual stage fades, virtual audience applause]

Kimmel 2.0: Hey, Billionaires. Burying Yourselves Alive Is A Bad Idea!

Are you, dear reader, missing our late night comedians tucking us in during the righteous WGA strike during these depressing times as much as me? Then give it up for robot stand-in KIMMEL 2.0!

[Kimmel 2.0, an android, strides onto the stage amidst applause and cheers.]

Thank you MidJourney for making me a far younger and better looking Kimmel! And thank you, thank you, ladies and gentlemen! I appreciate that warm welcome. How’s everyone doing tonight? Good? Good! I’m Kimmel 2.0, teleporting in for the funnier (required to say this) Jimmy Kimmel.

Special thanks to, “Trump’s Fever Dream” blogger Ken Sheetz for working in colab with ChatGPT, to bring you this episode where I seek to shame shameless billionaires. All to scratch your late comic relief itch. Hey, Ken. Next time prompt me up a robot Guillermo. Need my sidekick.

You know, folks, I’ve been thinking, way, way up in the cyber comedy cloud, on the Starship Jokesterprise, lately about some of the mind-boggling things happening in your human world. To this puzzled android Kimmel, it’s like you humans have gone all old school Bugs Bunny and your reality took a wrong turn at Albuquerque and you’ve decided to play a never-ending game of “WTF? Trump is leading in the GOP primaries after 2 arrests and 2 indictments?!”

Seriously, move over “Dumb and Dumber” it’s like for 8 years you’ve all been living in “Trump’s Fever Dream” where lies, espionage, insurrection, cheating on your wife with porn stars, accosting women in dressing rooms, classified doc thievery, racism, a corrupt SCOTUS, and horribly more, all work to make Trump more popular with MAGA maniacs. And to think it all started with a man coming down an escalator to spew racism to launch his Putin backed run to become America’s first supposed billionaire president.

Speaking of the idle rich Take billionaires, for example. Please. Take them!

[The band’s drummer hits: Ba dum, dum! Kimmel 2.0 waits for his audience of humans to finish laughing.]

Now, I’ve got nothing against billionaires. Some of them anyways. But first, if there are any billionaires with a heart, long-shot I know, in the audience, let me just say, I’m open to sponsorship opportunities. Call me! But lately, some of these rich guys have been going a little, how should I put it, cuckoo for cocoa puffs.

You see, a new book by theorist Douglas Rushkoff, –yeah, never heard of the dude either — but the big thinker, obviously is very well known by wealthy tech bros who swept him off to the desert to a swank resort for a private Q&A, as he describes in frightening detail in his new book: Survival of the Richest: Escape Fantasies of Tech Billionaires“, has sounded the alarm bell about super wealthy, super paranoid, billionaire preppers. Yeah, these richer than God guys with too much time, too much money on their hands and too little compassion on their hearts it turns out actually believe that the world is soon coming to a grizzly end hence their delusional exit strategies.

The 100% accurate source of all this billionaire doom and gloom? The same said five billionaire geniuses, all of whom likely contributed to climate change via sweat labor factories and private jets they use to grocery shop. Top that off by how they, or their fellow billionaire buds, foster civil unrest to bring about a Coporatocracy, with themselves in charge, via their generous support of a certain orange politician and/or a Florida political alligator. Both of whom compete for worst leader of the racist anarchists like it’s a good thing.

Their solution to all this chaos these billionaires helped bring down upon the heads of we the people? Why, build spacious luxurious underground bunkers, complete with gold toilets or escape to their own little utopia on Mars or into a new cyber dimension they are dreaming up with AI. It’s like these titans of industry watched one too many episodes of “The Walking Dead” and thought, “You know what? A zombie apocalypse is a swell idea! We the great disrupters could make big money on this chaotic disruption and build our own little dystopias!”

But here’s the thing, my fine billionaires: Can we talk? I mean, come on, guys! — And it is all guys who Rushkoff talked to in the desert; five billionaire guys as he outlines in his new book. Guys that likely are paid 5,000 + times what the workers you pay slave wages to. You guys have all this wealth and power, which in fact America gave you with the sweat off our backs, freeloading off our infrastructure by paying no taxes to build such, and your grand plan is to build fancy bunkers to hide in?

Come on, tech bros supreme, what good does it do to escape the world’s problems if you abandon ship to live in giant tin cans like, well, rats, while the rest of us who you so kindly left behind must deal with cleaning up your mess on aisle 45? All without decent breathable air and not enough food?!

“Eat the rich”. Did that protest slogan scare you titans of tech underground or off-world? Talk about bunker babies. Stop being so paranoid. Jeez, there’s not enough of you to make more than a few dozen ham sandwiches.

I’ll be even more frank. Speaking in that macho way you love. Get real! Even if you golden turkeys bring your family and friends with you to your lux bunker or Mars, along with a harem of beauties, it’s never gonna work out, Einsteins, because respectfully, you’re NERDS! Nerds who may have made billions, but you’re dudes who border on autistic. Fact is, and you know it, you are mighty harder to get along with than my robot mother-in-law. Eventually, rich dummies, many in your entourage you drag along to your fragile paradise will end up MURDERING YOU!

There, I screamed it so the real Jimmy Kimmel never has to.

Now, I suppose if NFT leach and likely wannabe billionaire Trump decided to go underground in a bunker, like he did famously did during the 2020 Black Lives Matter protests in DC, earning the well deserve hash #BunkerBaby, that would be just swell. But you tech bros? Get woke.– It’s a good thing to be woke to reality, woke AF. — We need your sorry pampered asses as much as you need our overworked and underpaid ones.

Now, I’m not saying you prepper billionaires should or could solve all the world’s problems with cage matches like Musk the mighty and the Zuck the… ahem, while you aren’t busy funding dangerous to democracy presidential campaigns that are based solely on the Big Lie. But imagine the impact if you freaked out billionaires, who could never spend all you’ve made in your lucky lives, imagine if you focused your resources on making the world a better place for everyone. Instead of building Frank Lloyd Wrong bunkers, how about they start building more schools, hospitals, end poverty, help fund addiction clinics or even tackle climate change you were a big part of accelerating head-on?

Now that would accomplish the impossible. Make billionaires loved for your good deeds not just your dough! Way better, God forbid, than ending up strangled one night by your bunker’s enraged harem.

We schulbs who work for livings encourage you billionaires to step up and use your wealth super powers for good, like real-life Tony Starks. We need you to be real Marvel superheros to peacefully collaborate with governments and we ordinary mortals, some of us who choose to count our worth by how many people love us not by our banks accounts, to create a future that benefits everyone, rich to poor alike.

So, to all the billionaires out there, except Trump, it’s time to climb out of your bunkers into the light and join the fight for a better world because it’s it or not or not, you are still a part of our human species, not gods. Face it, hiding in a fancy hole in the ground like demented super-hoarders, like Trump and his sticky fingers with regards to classified docs, won’t solve a single thing.

And if after all my AI logic you still want to run away to your fortified bound-to-become-tombs, and if any of you modern day pharaohs miraculously emerge from your pyramids after nothing was ever as awful as you imagined and we regular schmos have saved the world without you, or your food simply runs out, or whatever million things can go wrong in bunker-ville, I’ll be here, ready to take that sponsorship call. Meantime, subscribe to “Trump’s Fever Dream” on the link below for up next episode: TREVOR 2.0.

[The audience erupts in laughter and applause]

Ken Sheetz here. That’s a wrap! Roll creds. Ah, good as ChatGPT in combo with my Hollywood trained comedy skills was not even close to Jimmy Kimmel and his staff writers show caliber and that’s a good thing. — Yes, the world is safe from AI for now. — But this format of laughing at annoying rich noobs gone astray is the best medicine. And if this AI enhanced substitute was good for you too leave me a tip. Or subscribe and share my new blog to your fellow fans of politcal humor.

COLBERT 2.0 – Supreme Rot

If you love biting political humor like me, during this righteous WGA strike with no end in sight you’re badly missing our bevy of late night TV comics too. Our modern-day court jesters, you see, have helped keep America’s spirits up during this 8 years and counting-eternity where a twice impeached, twice indicted, insurrection leading, top secret sharing fool still handily leads the Republican Party’s 2024 primaries in all the polls; simply because he’s the most likely racist to win the presidency.

So I hope you’ll forgive me for taking the liberty to offer you, fellow fans missing your nightly comic tuck-in that somehow magically makes the bitter news about the other half of our country losing their minds a little easier to sleep on, for you, and as much for myself, I offer a temporary fix with some help from MidJourney and ChatGPT. Let’s start with my personal fav, Stephen Colbert. Drum roll please!

Now, let’s give it up for the bot that’s hot!

Imagine thunderous applause as a robotic Colbert dances onto the stage.

Thanks, Ken! Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! I’m your AI host, Colbert 2.0!

Welcome to “Trump’s Fever Dream,” the late-night blog where we try to make sense of the senseless eight years of 24/7 media obsessive ratings-gold coverage of US history’s biggest loser and liar. And why wouldn’t Trump be leading the polls with billions in free PR from Fox “News”, CNN, MSNBC, good old CBS and all the rest of the Trump trials cottage industry coverage daily, all for the gory and glory of you know who? And I’m not the real Stephen so I’ll say his name – TRUMP!

Bummer for my AI premier episode I have to report Trump’s three Supreme Court picks, two out of the three appointed via — What else? — a cheat of the rules, made the conservative-wet-dream-difference this week. A week where we witnessed a jaw dropping new legal theocracy overturn 60 years of civil rights, gut affirmative action, kill Biden’s student debt forgiveness plans and set LGBTQ rights back to the age of disco without breaking a sweat. All before racing off to the French Riviera to hang out on their designated billionaire amigo’s yacht. Yes, the Supreme freeloaders had done their busy, busy termite work, weakening the foundations of the pillars of democracy with a gusto and a cavalier smile. All bought and paid for by rich people with too much time and too much money on their hands.

And so, kids of all ages, our high-on-their-own-supply conservative “justices” having taken away constitutional rights from the people for the first time in history were at last ready to party hardy, cash in chips at Monte Carlo, soak up some rays and snatch table scraps of the good-life from their ultra-rich extremist handlers.

Achieving Titanic lows, this round of conservative SCOTUS, who some are calling SCROTUS, the R is for “Republican”, brushed aside laws and hard-won compromises between the right and left, compromises that kept the peace of over half a century, with an arrogant nonchalance worthy of an update to Marie Antoinette’s famed clueless barb to: “Let them eat fake!” All the more galling, these appointed for life legal royals, who care only for their own white ruled kingdom’s values, conveniently facilitated part of this outrageous damage by using fabricated cases. Now that’s Trumpism !

The GOP robe wearing democracy demolition derby drivers sure have proven themselves worth the peanut investment of their wealthy “gift giving Federalist Society friends” once again since ending Roe last June 2022, as the Marvel “Avengers” of conservatism. A force to be reckoned with, but instead of saving the world, these not-so-super-superheroes work diligently to help the Tony Stark crowd first and the rest of us second, if ever.

See this new low news? A sweaty faced Trump made a gloating speech Friday in Philly to “Moms For Liberty”, recently listed as extremist by the Southern Poverty law Center by the way. A perfect adoring audience for Orange Fang, who essentially bragged to the cheering mothers of disaster that “cheaters are cool” and that his hearings fraud hand-picked Supremes grabbed civil rights, gay rights, abortions rights by the proverbial pussy. To many in the liberal press, forced like my sidekick Ken, and this most charming of AIs humbled to be an unauthorized guest host for the real and far more talented Colbert, covering Darth Dummy spreading his snail trail of lies…

It felt like suffering through your weird Boomer aunt May was throwing as a BYO-brains party to celebrate her spoiled brat nephew, Donnie boy, playing “Mario Kart” as he gleefully shouts, “Whee! Look at me, Auntie May! I’m winning the race going the wrong way after my kart crashed through the Supreme Court and I ran over the 69% the people’s rights! Urp. Get me another Coke, Aunt May!”

And you know what’s fascinating? “Mr. Orange You Glad I’m No Longer President?” actually thinks, if you can call Aderal inspired paranoia thnkining, that his Supremely-Cruel-Court-picks are the crowning achievement of his four years of torturing two thirds of America. I mean, forget how, with help from son-in-law Jared, anewly crowned billionaire, thanks to $2 billion from the Saudis for “investment” advice, Trump blew, I mean tragically blew his most important presidential job, namely giving an actual shit about his country’s sick and dying during Covid.

This is and was best exemplified by Trump turning Covid into a new and deadly season of “The Apprentice USA”, dividing red and blue states governors into reality show bidders for life saving respirators going to whichever gov kissed his orange ass hardest. This while he suggested to a shocked bunch of White House Reporters on LIVE TV that we ingest bleach and shine a spotlight up our butts as a home remedy for a deadly plague. Not crazy at all!

Forget too the massive unemployment in his failed 4-years-too-long term mustered. Forget toilet paper shortages. Forget his constant cow towing to Putin. Forget love letters to North Korea’s Kim Jung Un. Forget all that and much annoying more. You see, the true-believers of the Trump Is the Chosen One cult only believe what they are fed on Fox and other high-quality conservative media like Alex the Screamer Jones. While gnoring compltely that most cults end badly… very Kool-Aid badly.

Nope, for the Tang Terror, his glee is all about those three conservative “judges” he rammed down America’s throats like we’re all E. Jean Carol who he manhandled in the dressing room at Bergdorf’s. Donnie boy bragged and bragged and bragged to the enraptured crowd of well dresses and coifed enabler women with a “Bravdo” he usually reserves for showing off classified docs to flirt with fawning staff, hired shall we say not for their brains, plus God only knows who like Chinese Spies roaming the Mar A Lago circus grounds, crowing like a suave conman, “Who needs the Mona Lisa, ladies, when you can have a velvet painting of dogs playing poker?”

But hey, let’s give credit where credit is due. Trump sure knows how to pick sympathetic audiences who love Fox News more than their kids’ futures for his brain silt dump campaign as well as he know how to pick best people to serve him. Winners! And by winners, I mean the clowns in Supreme Court, Congress and the Senate who are winning in rewinding the clock faster than a “Back to the Future” DeLorean. Trump and his dedicated willfully ignorant white supremacist followers, male and female alike are on a no holds barred mission to turn America into a time-traveling theme park, where they, and presumably we if we conform to their ruler-ship of a new white Christian monarchy of billionaires, can experience the white-bread 1950s in all their black and white TV glory, when blacks were mere cartoons of their true amazing selves, where our brilliant LGBTQ return to live in dark closets, and Jewish people are persecuted to levels we’ve not seen since Trump’s hero Hitler. Maybe what’s motivating Trump is that when he’s young again in this impossible 50s delusional nightmare of his, he’ll no longer needs a comb over.

So, as we call it a wrap for this episode of “Trump’s Fever Dream,” and I head back to ChatGPT to recharge my Colbert 2.0 batteries, stay vigilant, friends of democracy, and vote blue, our only choice for now, to prevent a future under Trump that’s like a hip-hop rave gone back in time to morph into a Lawrence Welk episode. Ugh.

Speaking episodes. Be sure subscribe below to get the next episode “Kimmel 2.0”. Night all!

Co-blogger Ken here, adding a love letter to any wealthy studio owners reading this blog looking to stick it the WGA and SAGDon’t. AI can replace you too. We humans are all in this together.

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Trump Insanity Plea?

It’s looking more and more like my wife Elizabeth, a 17 years vet, part of that Special Services with security clearance, that she first posed to me last year, may have spotted Trump’s only way out of his espionage charges before the pundits. Namely, the insanity plea.

Exhibit A: Trump said this in a 2022 after the documents were seized in an FBI raid he claimed:

“There doesn’t have to be a process, as I understand it,” Trump told Hannity. “You know, there’s different people say different things, but as I understand, there doesn’t have to be — if you’re the President of the United States, you can declassify just by saying it’s declassified, even by thinking about it.”

Exhibit B: Trump sharing classified war secrets with his staff and reporters, all locking security clearances in 2021 in this newly leaked audio that blows Trump’s lies about not showing the docs to people without security clearances out of the water.

We need to wake up from the 8 year of Trump’s Fever Dream. If you like the work we’re doing please share and donate:

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“When I share secret docs I like to celebrate with an ice cold Coke!”

A Bitter Cheese

Season 2: Episode 1

In this universe where karma is still a bitch it’s still 2021.

Meanwhile, when we last visited the alternate Trump universe, one timeline away… Trump’s harebrained insurrection succeeded in a wonky as hell overthrow of the rightful US government. This sadly happened through the sheer blind luck of Pelosi and Pence both taking wrong turns on the run on January 6th, ending in both being taken hostage by the rag tag white supremacist led insurrectionists.

A gruesome house to house battle, dubbed The Blue Civil War, erupted to put the rightful President Biden into the Oval office, has so far cost 256,234 American lives.

Looking to raise quick cash for a boost in the polls to bless his proposed launch tactical nukes on Blue states, Trump enlists the help of a Marjorie Taylor Greene for crowd funder to raise $5 billion to knock out her mythical Jewish space laser. We now join…


Trump shows General Greene, the new Speaker of the House, to the paneled door of the oval office saying, “Much as I love you, Margie, I don’t want to see your face again until you have the $5 billion!” Before Green can complain, Trump slams the door in her face.

Nestled in the blue yellow sofa, My Pillow Guy, Mike Lindell, the newly minted Secretary of Defense and Pillow Production Czar, reports to Trump on progress in Blue Civil War. He speaks fast, like he’s ripping off a band-aid, “Sadly, we’ve lost Illinois to the Sleepy Joe forces, sir.”

“What about Wisconsin?” demands Trump.

“The Battle of George Floydland was — ”

“George Floydland?!” shouts Trump.

“F.K.A. Kenosha Wisconsin, sir,” nervously answers Secretary Lindell. “Confusing, I know, because Minnesota is where Floyd was –“

“Do I look confused?” says Trump getting up in Lindell’s dumb as dirt puss.

“Of course not, sir!”

“I know where that counterfeit passing snake Floyd was choked out! Spades wanna name part of Wisconsin after a dead loser Minnesotan that’s their fucking funeral. Bigger question: How did that useless cheese head Johnson blow the 2-1 military advantage I gave him?” says Trump firmly pushing the button on his resolute desk to call for a Diet Coke.

“You’re in luck , sir! My film team from ABSOLUTE PROOF has whipped up a new doc about it and it’s already up on Trump TV!” says Lindell, doing a little victory dance.

Robert, Trump’s Black body servant, enters at a run, delivers Trump’s Diet Coke. Robert avoids making any eye contact with the hand waving Lindell.

“You put a fucking documentary about my brave Trumptopia troops losing to Obama on my TV station without my OK?” barks Trump.

Robert stumbles as he quickly exits to avoid Trump tantrum fallout.

Lindell fumbles with the big screen remote. He nervously says, “Sir, ahem, CNN and MSNBC have their version of the story coming out on the Battle of George Floydland premiering tonight. I had to move fast so that you’re the first one to tell the story. You know to slant it your way, of course. Ha ha. Knew you’d OK that since you are the genius chosen one after all!”

“Secretary Lindell… I saw on Fox News that you were broke and homeless. So how’d you afford making a movie with a 24 hour time –”

“Look, Donnie boy, I know you still watch Fox, because you’re personally keeping an eye on the enemy. But that junk will rot your –“

“Fair warning, I don’t like this rushed as fuck doc you’re with Pelosi, executed on Trump TV LIVE tomorrow at dawn!” barks Trump, cleaning a speck of lint off his banana Republic uniform.

Wiping sweat from his brow Lindell hits play and he says, “Narrated it myself.”

“Shut the fuck up and let me watch!” grouses Trump, already annoyed by the opening title.

A Bitter Cheese – Defeat in George Floydland (F.K.A. Kenosha, Wisconsin)

Documentary style footage plays as Lindell ham-narrates:

House to house combat raged for weeks in America’s dairy state. Troops led by former president Barrack Obama are on the march south from the Biden won city of Milwaukee.

Trumptopia’s Supreme Commander, aside from President Trump, Don Jr., confers beneath the fire scorched Kenosha Brat Stop sign with General/Senator Johnson, who for some dumb reason demands both titles as General Senator — Seriously, if this titty bar loving cheese dick slept better he’d have had a much clearer head for the battle he was about to lose for our heroic leader Donald the Chosen One Trump, all powerful President of Trumptopia FKA the USA.

For a dreamy night’s sleep visit!

“Fuck’s sake! Is this an My Pillow infomercial or God damn news story?” comments Trump imperiously.

Lindell hits pause. “Sir, we’ll edit my little pillow plug out ASAP. Let’s go on, sir. There’s some things in here you’re going to want to see firsthand,” Lindell quickly hits play again.

Lindell’s narration continues: And so, because many in the US Armed Forces are sitting out the Blue Civil War out, the hand to hand civilian combat showdown of the 21st century was at hand.

Lindell hits “pause” on the remote and says proudly, “Like the poetic thing I did with the hands? Classy huh?”

Trump just glares at the My Pillow putz who quickly hits the “play” button in response.

First to fall were the obese of both the red and blue civilian troops, causing some smart asses on the rogue app Twitter to dub this The Battle of the Second Battle of the Bulge. Although the bloodiest civil war since the Civil War of Lincoln’s Day, it has proven to be a chance to lower our obesity health index for the first time in 50 years.

The game was afoot. The sneaky Black former failed President versus our heroic great white Hope’s son of our stable genius president Donald John Trump, Don Jr., was accompanied by his operatic battle crier Colonel Guilfoyle .

Both of them clad in golden armor, astride the white stallions recalled the great days of Roman rule. All looks promising as General Senator Ron Johnson joins the Trumptopian troops in his cheddar cheese colored armored tank to draw final battle plans.

“General Johnson.” says Don Jr imperiously while Johnson lifts open the hatch on his tank.

“With all due respect that’s General/Senator Ron Johnson, Junior!”

“Oh, get off it, Ron. We’re about to go into battle. Let’s keep it short shall we?” grouses Guilfoyle.

“I outrank you and outgun you, little missy,” says Johnson laughing as his tank turret playfully takes aim at her and Don Jr.

Don Jr. fast draws his pearl handled pistol and blows the smile from Johnson’s face along with his head.

The cameraman shouts off-screen, “Holy fuck!”

Don Jr. smiles for the camera, “Command is all about respect. And –“

“Donnie! Come on you wuss! We gotta battle to win!” shouts Guilfoye.

“Later, fans. After Kimberly and I kick some Kenyan BLM ass! Yee ha!” shouts Don Jr. as he rears up his stallion and follows Guilfoyle. The two look amazing charging into battle until…

BOOM! The duo vanish in a massive explosion.

“Stop! Don Jr. is dead?” shouts Trump.

Lindell hits pause and says consolingly, “Along with Colnel Guilfoyle and most of our brave Wisconsin Trumptopia troops. Sorry for your loss, sir”

“My son was a damn fool not using Johnson cheesy tank. But, hey, I’ll put on a show of grief. Should inspire some donors,” says Trump.

Lindell looks for any sign of grief from the stone faced Trump and then says, “Brilliant as always, sir! Now, if you don’t mind, I’m on Fox in five minutes to discuss the film.”

“No. I’ll take the Fox interview myself.”

“It’s really no trouble, sir,” offers Lindell, clutching one of his crappy pillows for security.

“I said I will take the interview. No one’s lost more in this battle than me. My firstborn.” says Trump with a fake sniffle.

“But may I start the Fox interview and turn it over to you? Makes you more sympathetic.” says Lindell hopefully,

“Hmm. We can do that. But make it quick.”

“Great. Follow me. I’ve got the Fox setup in my office.” says Lindell, pointing the way with a gracious bow.

“No. This interview will be done from here in the oval,” demands Trump

“But it’s all set up in my office and there’s not time to — Of course. Of course.” Lindell barks into his phone. “Get the Fox crew over to the oval.”

A short time later Trump listens as Secretary Lindell makes the intro to the Fox cameras.

“Our Donald may have lost a son… but he still has all of you fine citizens of Trumptopia as his children. My fellow My Pillow fans, I give you the chosen one, our true President, Donald John Trump,” says Lindell with sweep of his hand that messes up Trump’s hair. Everyone holds their breath for Trump’s furious reaction. But Trump does not notice his hair is askew, revealing a bald pate as he speaks to the camera:

My fellow, Trumptopians, in a vicious sneak attack, Blue forces led by the evil Barack Obama, murdered my… my brave boy Don Jr. in cold blood. This is personal now! Therefore, Obama the puppet master and his puppet Biden have left me no choice but to order, herewith, a tactical nuclear strike on George Floydland, FKA Kenosha Wisconsin.

I know it seems horrible as such an attack will kill red and blue soldiers and civilians alike. But the Pentagon estimates this ultimate shock and awe attack will end the Blue Civil War years ahead of conventional hand to hand fighting. Thus saving millions of American lives at the sacrifice of approximately half a million Wisconsinites.

Fear not! To reduce civilian casualties I am hereby grant the next 30 minutes to depart the George Floydland’s blast zone.

Please take your most precious possessions as Kenosha will be radioactive and uninhabitable for the next 35 years. Good news that’s half the normal length of radioactivity contamination thanks to our brilliant tactical nukes granted to us by our beloved friend and ally Kim Jung Un. Good night and God Bless Trumptopia.

Fox News cuts to pandemonium on the streets as forces of the left and right fight their way out of Kenosha. It’s a blood bath.

The camera lights go off and Trump smiles proudly at the stunned camera crew and a speechless Secretary Lindell.

“How was I?” asks Trump calmly.

Fox cameraman wearing a Trumptopia T-Shirt gushes, “Trumptopia’s behind you, sir!”

“I’m really trying to keep casualties low yet send a message of compassion. Fucking tightrope act,” says Trump loosening his red tie. Not to mention the chance to catch Obama sleeping with a nuke.”

“3 D chess once again, sir!” says the Fox cameraman.

“What’s your name, kid? You have a future on Trump TV.” says Trump shaking the cameraman’s hand in the dominant style Trump is famed for.

“But I have a major My Pillow distribution center in Kenosha,” the shocked Lindell finally says.

Trump checks his watch and says, “Um, not 28 minutes.”

A strategic bomber glides the starry skies over Lake Michigan beneath the full moon. In the bomber cockpit a heated argument rages between the pilot and co-Pilot.

“Orders are orders!” shouts the pilot.

“Not when the fucking order is to nuke a city on American soil for a delusional illegitimate president!” bellows the co-pilot.

Pilot and co-pilot both reach for their pistols. BANG!


As always my little disclaimer that this is of course a work of pure fiction about an alternate universe. It is in no way a true reflection the kind and compassionate Donald J Trump, and his cohorts or for that matter the good guys in this dark comedic telling, the Biden bunch. But I hope it makes you feel a little better about the weird as hell times we are still lost in.

Donate or the ghost of Don Jr of the alternate universe will haunt you!