“Who do they think they are? I’m asking you, just who the hell do they think they are?!”
“I don’t know, mother.”
The Mincepencenow lowered his gaze to the ground. He hated it when his wife got mad. She was upset at the recent T-Rump Insurrection and angry that two of the Grandoldparty dinos in the T-Rump’s dino cabinet — the Elainchao and the Betsydevos had gone running for the hills. That is, promptly resigned from their positions.
“I suppose I could do something,” he ventured.
“I don’t want you doing anything. Just keep pretending the T-Rump has you under his thumb.”
“I wasn’t pretending.”
She gave him the look. That look. The one that said she was still running the show and that if he exercised one more thought outside Operation Oval Dwelling, she’d swat him one upside the head but good.
“We’ll let the Donkeykongrus deal with him,” she said in a huff. “The Moscowmitch is hopeless now that he’s lost control of the Sin Hut. I heard he was wandering down a lonely path yesterday mumbling to himself, ‘I have no power. My power. Gone. Just like that. What am I going to do? That damn, T-Rump. I knew this was going to happen. Hmm. I know. The question is … how am I going to get that angry mob to go after him?”
“He said all that?”
“Okay, so I added the last part.”
The Mincepencenow shook his head with a frown.
“You want the Nancypelosi to deal with the T-Rump. But she’s going to give me an ultimatum in the morning that if I don’t say T-Rump is cracked-walnut bonkers then the Donkeykongrus is going to go ahead with impeachment.”
“You know ultimatums never ever work in a relationship, dear.”
“But this is Dino Nation hanging in the balance.”
“Relax, the less you say the better. Of course, we don’t want it to get out that you and the T-Rump haven’t spoken for several days.”
“But they know, mother. They know.”
“Perhaps. But trust me, it’s w-a-a-a-a-y down the Mediacircustop priority list since the T-Rump’s attempted coup.”
“That was a terrible day. I still can’t believe it … after all I’ve done for him.”
Mother nodded her agreement.
“That was a lot of groveling. The most. In the history of groveling.”
She could see she’d wounded his pride. Such was the power she could summon with a smirk or a smile. She would need to build him back up again.
“You’re stressed, dear. Come to bed. After you massage my ankles and crack my toes, you can sing me one of your songs from the old days when you used to chase me around the jungle and I’d let you catch me.
“You let me? I mean, of course you did. I don’t know if I can remember those exactly … but I do have another one that comes to mind.”
He likes bein’ a dick, he likes bein’ mean
And he won’t let me say Joe Biden unless it’s that he has gangrene
He’s got me under pressure
He’s got me under pressure
He likes the media scrum, he likes to clog the fog
He wants me to change the outcome, he likes it that I’m his lapdog
He don’t like Biden winning, he likes to fan the flames
He likes free rein and sendin’ out those birdbrains
He’s about all I can handle, he’s driving me insane
It’s got me under pressure
It’s got me under pressure
I’m gonna give him a message
Here’s what I’m gonna say
“I’m not Rover.”
They thought they would be so slick
And some wanted me dead
The attack just makes me sick
It’s got me under pressure
It’s got me under pressure
It’s got me under pressure
It’s got me under pressure
……………………………
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 