Satire The Trump Dig

The Hypocrisy Oath …

“The Hypocrisy Oath?”
The Tyrumposaurus looked up from the footprints in the sand at the Stephenmillerus.
“I think it’s my best work,” said the T-Rump’s senior advisor. “You know you’re only as mean as your last footprint.”

“The Hypocrisy Oath?”

The Tyrumposaurus looked up from the footprints in the sand at the Stephenmillerus.

“I think it’s my best work,” said the T-Rump’s senior advisor. “You know you’re only as mean as your last footprint.”

“Stephen, I know where you’re coming from when you’re immoral as hell. I get that. But hypocrisy? It’s just another big word. And you know how I feel about oaths.”

“Oh, you’re going to love this. The Hypocrisy Oath is an oath that requires a new Grandoldparty dino to swear, by a number of falsehoods and misdeeds, to uphold specific unethical standards.”

“Are you sure we need this? I’ve got 8000 lies under my belt already.”

“It’s the others I’m worried about. We need to get them up to speed.”

Thirty minutes later the two dinos hid behind a rock off to the side at the Huckabeecyclops’ monthly Mediacircustops briefing. She rolled her evil eye and began.

“The authorities have tracked down a rogue White Supremasaurus who was intent on gobbling up a number of Mediacircustops.” Then under her breath. “Not that that’s a bad thing.”

“Huckabee!” hollered the Jimacosta. “In light of this, do you think the T-Rump should tone down his rampant rhetoric berating the Mediacircustops?”

“On the contrary, every single time something like this happens, the T-Rump is typically one of the first dinos to condemn the violence and you dinos are the first to blame him.”

The T-Rump turned to whisper to the Stephenmillerus.

“She’s taken the Hyprocisy Oath?”

“Didn’t have to. She’s a veteran.”

The Jimacosta had a large, runny nose for news. His sniffer picked up the T-Rump instantly.

“T-Rump! Would you care to add to that? Do you bear any responsibility because of your demeaning, divisive and vulgar language?”

The T-Rump put on his best blank face.

“No, I don’t. I think my language is very nice.”

A couple of dinos would later admit to seeing smoke coming out of the Huckabeecyclops ears. She jumped to the fore.

“What did I say, Jimacosta!? What did I say? How dare you! As if the T-Rump has to explain himself to you. No, you listen to him! I can’t believe this nonsense. The T-Rump won the battle. Decidedly. Here you are, acting like he was elected.”

The T-Rump stepped up to the flat rock podium.

“Thank you, Huckabee. It appears I need to remind the Mediacircustops that I am looking out for them … and that they are the enemy of the dinos. I don’t even have to use my sing-song voice to tell you who else is the enemy of the dino nation. It’s those damn dinos who are migrating illegally around the Great Tex-Mex Divide. They are smuggling in other dinos, enslaving them, and forcing them to bungle in the jungle … uh, outside of mating season. Very bad stuff. Horrible. Just horrible. All those poor female Duck Taypuhsaurae. Any dino that would take advantage of any one of them is no friend of mine.

The Kaitlyncollins raised her short arm.

“Actually, T-Rump, your very good friend, the Robertkraft, whom you’ve often had over to your luxury cave at Mar-a-Guano, he was just dragged away on two counts of bungling in the jungle with one those poor dinos you just mentioned in the Neverglades. Except — fact check alert — she followed a regular migration route. What about those bungles in the jungle, T-Rump?”

“Uh, well.” The T-Rump stole a look at the Stephenmillerus who winked back with ringing confidence. “Yes, well … let’s look at my friends first and foremost, shall we? There was the Robporter. Those allegations made against him were false and simply a smear campaign. Don’t forget the Judgeroymoore. He denied it. He totally denied it. He said it didn’t happen. You have to listen to him. He said 40 years ago, this did not happen.”

“And what about yourself, T-Rump?” she asked.

He dismissed her with a wave of the hand.

“At last count there were at least 18 accusers. Need I say more? I mean, really?”

By David Belisle

I'm a novelist and screenwriter in search of the Great Guffaw. It's kind of like getting hit with a bucket of Gatorade. It's a good time that sticks with you.

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