“Look,” the Markmeadows put on his serious, burnt-red-cheek-bones look for the dozen dino doctors before him. “I know you guys pretty much tell the truth most of the time.”
“Ahem. That would be all the time,” said the blank-faced Seanconley.
“Really? Wow. That’s good. Real good. But I need you to forget about that for now because we need you to lie for us. A lot.”
“But what about transparency?”
“You’re not listening We are making stuff up, doctor. Left and right. C-D-C, remember? Work with me now.”
“The, um, press briefing was supposed to start 20 minutes ago.”
“And they can wait another 20 minutes until we get our stories straight. Now then, no vitals, no lung damage report, no-no-no … and don’t even think about telling them when his last negative test was.”
“No negative test date? Not even as a public courtesy for those possibly infected?”
“Possibly? We’ve got projection models that show Trump’s numbers going through the roof.”
“And he thinks that’s his popularity and not the Covid cases.”
“How’d you guess? You should see the skeleton staff in the Oval Dwelling.”
“And that’s what they may well be in a month. It’s beginning to sound like we’d be better off just staying put. Why even go out there?”
“Because the T-Rump said so, because we are tragically behind in the polls and because the Moscowmitch is on life support panic mode that he’s going to lose his shot at a third Dino Supreme Court justice. Let me deal with the politics and you focus on the happy talk. Go ahead and throw in a chuckle if you want. Don’t laugh too much though. Nobody likes a loopy doctor.”
“Of course not.”
“So, we’re good then?”
“You bet. We’ve got this all under control.”
The dino doctors stepped out of the cave and stepped around the flat rock lectern to line up side-by-side, all ten of them. They locked arms and began swishing their tails about. Rhythmically.
The Markmeadows jaw dropped. Ohmigod. They were going to do a song and dance number. A song and dance number? N-o-o-o-o! Say it ain’t so!
Who will it be knocking Covid’s door?
That garden party sure ran up the score
We hope that T-Rump will be alright
Even though he’ll never see the light
Now Hopehix has to stay at home
Kellyanne was also in his zone
Tillis, Johnson knocked off-stride
And all those Mikelee hugged outside
Who will it be now?
Who will it be now?
Who will it be now?
Who will it be now?
Who will it be knocking Covid’s door?
Moscowmitch, afraid he’ll lose the floor
His third judge, now held at bay
All his cronies can’t come out to play
Ronnamcdaniel, up on the shelf
Like Chrischristie, she couldn’t help herself
Nature’s law, Billybarr could not bend
Quarantine welcomes all they send
Who will it be now?
Who will it be now?
Who will it be now?
Who will it be now?
The election will be here any day
T-Rump is on his knee
Say goodbye to his autocracy
There goes Mcenany
Uh-oh!
O-o-o-h, who will it be now?
Who will it be now?
Who will it be now?
Who will it be now?
………………………………
You can hear the musical version of today’s post and previous T-Rump Digs at my podcast site at Podbean. Two new T-Rump tracks every Saturday. Enjoy!
David Belisle 