Category: Satire

They squatted like so many bumps on a log. Big but suddenly unimportant bumps. It was moving out day at the Oval Dwelling and the Tyrumposaurus, his offspring and their forlorn family broods waited patiently in an open clearing in the jungle. The Sore Loser Send-Off would not be complete until the non-family dinos arrived. They’d planned for six thousand but would settle for six. The family group stared straight ahead in silence. There was no idle chatter or small talk because there was no investment return. As well, the T-Rumps did not have the social acumen to care what the person beside them was thinking. Even if they were family.

Five minutes passed. A dino finally came huffing and puffing down the path. It was the Markmeadows.

“You’re late,” barked the T-Rump in perhaps his final tyrannical tirade.

“Sorry, I slept in.”

“Where are others? You were supposed to bring five dinos with you. I said bring five.” He turned to his family. “Didn’t I say bring five?”

The line of squatting dinos all nodded as one.

“I — I, well, as much as I hate to admit it, none of my friends wanted to come. They’re all at the Joe–”

“Stop. Don’t say it.”

The T-Rump’s children could feel the seething rage bubbling beneath the surface in their father at this colossal snub. It was too much for the T-Rump Jr. Tears sprang from his eyes.

“Dad, you were great, dad. I’m so, so sorry it had to end this way.”

“It didn’t end, damn you. It was all the Mincepencenow’s fault. One more lie. I just needed one more lie. I didn’t lose. Don’t worry. I’ll be back in some form.”

Eric wiped a tear from his eye.

“What’s that mean, dad? Some form? Are you cutting me loose, is that it? Don’t cut me loose, dad. I’ll be good.”

Behind the cover of their cheesy grins, the Kushneratops spoke with his wife in a hushed, terse tone.

“Why did I let you talk me into moving into a cave in the Neverglades just down the path from your father?”

“Because daddy needs me. Us, he needs us.”

“I don’t know how to say this nicely, but we need a little distance … no, we need a lotta distance between your father and us.”

“How can you say that? He has 74 million dinos ready to march lockstep with him.”

“Lockstep? He can’t even step on a Trollertweety. His days as a leader are done.”

The Markmeadows raised a short arm.

“Oh, T-Rump. I just wanted to relay a couple of messages before you all begin the, heh-heh … long trek south. The Kevinmccarthy, he said that you still have the ability to lead the Grandoldparty.”

“He did?”

“And the Marjorietaylorgreene. She’s trying to get the Joebiden impeached.”

“Already?”

The T-Rump cocked his head as he mulled over the possibilities. He took in his entourage. 

“What do you say, kids? Should we stay?”

Before they could answer however, a sound came whistling through the jungle on wing and a prayer. It was Inauguration Day and there was a new sensation sweeping Dino Nation. It was proud, pure and fighting to be heard. Few fighters had fought so hard.

We — we can all now find our way

Feel the load now fall away

To build back our home

Our — our rights were declining

Mighty words once black and white 

Peaceful protests gone

Joebiden sees four years where we have been 

Joebiden sees we need to see his grin

Joebiden sees the who what where and when

Joebiden sees where we need to begin

We — we saw the uprising

We all wondered why

The truth belonged to the right

But we — we’re so deeply divided

Grey matter no longer grey

How did we lose our mind?

Joebiden sees who took it on the chin 

Joebiden sees two teams and both can win

Joebiden sees we need to love again

Joebiden sees we need to see within

Joebiden sees four years where we have been 

Joebiden sees we need to see his grin

Joebiden sees the who what where and when

Joebiden sees where we need to begin

Joebiden sees who took it on the chin 

Joebiden sees two teams and both can win

Joebiden sees we need to love again

Joebiden sees we need to see within

Joebiden sees its time to stop the spin

Joebiden sees we need our next of kin

Joebiden sees us through the thick and thin

Joebiden sees us in these times we’re in

……………………………

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!

The Mikelindell, a dino entrepreneur with a one-of-kind rock pillow that guaranteed sleep if you fell from at least ten feet, shook his head emphatically at the T-Rump.

“No, the Joebiden most certainly didn’t win the election.”

“I love your enthusiasm, Mike,” said the T-Rump, “but how do you know?”

“Because I’ve seen it.”

“Oh, really? Where?”

“Well, let’s see. I was tired. Then a short while later I saw sheep. A lot of sheep. Prancing. One hundred to be exact. Prancing sheep. And they were jumping over something. I was counting them as they did. Then came the letter “z.” Lots of those too. A long, long string of them.”

“Uh, Mike? It sounds like you were sleeping? And dreaming. That too.”

“Oh, I get that a lot. But listen, while I’ve got you, I’ve got a list of ideas that can keep you in the Oval Dwelling. First, I have evidence of voter fraud in the Georgia Orchard, Pennsylvaneus, Michigonia and Dairyland.”

“Great. You’re a little late. But let’s see it.”

“Oh, I don’t have it with me.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s word of mouth. From a friend of a friend of a friend, all three being in the solitary sinkhole and looking for a discount on your pardon deal at two million a pop.”

“Not gonna happen. Look at me. I’m getting killed here. My revenue streams are drying up before my eyes. Art of the deal is how I steal, I mean feel. Two million is the flat rate.”

“Well, I was hoping that maybe, just maybe, we could negotiate one for, um … me. Just in case, you know, stuff comes up.”

“Like your five minutes. It’s almost up.”

“Okay, sure. So, you’re the law and order guy now. You put in martial law. Right away. Bingo-bango. Before they can blink. You suffocate them with martial law. Suffocate, suffocate, suffocate. Ya gotta suffocate ‘em with it. Y’know? Suffocate.”

“You’re scaring me, Mike.”  

“Would you like a rock pillow?”

“No.”

The T-Rump buried his head in his lap.

“Oh, woe, woe, woe is me. How come everyone isn’t calling me asking me how I’m doing and saying great things about me to cheer me up? Don’t they know how this is tearing me apart? Cheer me up, dammit! I had to tell my family to look in on me every hour. My own family! Make them think something bad might happen — just so I could get more attention.”

“Uh, you sure you don’t want a pillow?”

“No! You’d have to pay me to sleep on that thing.”

“It’s the lumps isn’t it?”

The Mikelindell knew he was at the four-minute mark but he might be thrown out with a minute left, so he nodded to the T-Rump and headed for the exit.

The T-Rump sighed. Seventy-two hours. Normally he didn’t even think one day ahead … unless it was a flog day with a Pornodactyl. But he knew in three days, the biggest grift ever perpetrated on Dino Nation would soon be over. He could feel the dino authorities circling. He was like a cornered Ratfinkasaurus, painful as that was to admit. He hated looking weak. His mood was pure melancholy because he’d never admit to the actual cause. But he was alone so he could sing about it. Because he always loved the sound of his voice.

I’m always right cuz I’m never wrong

Why aren’t they all singin’ my song?

Jon Tester, Chuck Schumer, Jake Tapper and kin

I blame them all for the soup I’m in

I am everyday feeble

That rigged election

The one that I really won

There’s a fraud says everyone

Then those votes should be undone

For he who stokes

The widespread hoax

Gotta keep goin’ on

With Rudy’s Punch an’ Judy 

The last straw

That’s holding us together

I am their leader, I’m the best they knew

If I can’t tweet, how do theirs get through?

They love me, they need me, until I say when

Somebody else caused this mess I’m in

I am everyday feeble

They need free and fair

They want law and order there

Cuz that was my election

But not my insurrection

For he who stokes

The widespread hoax

Gotta keep goin’ on

With Rudy’s Punch an’ Judy

The last straw

That’s holding us together

They still want me to run

Though some say I’m one and done

This self-pity is no fun

There’s no money, send me some

For he who stokes

The widespread hoax

Gotta keep goin’ on

With Rudy’s Punch an’ Judy

The last straw

I am everyday feeble

……………………………

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!

“Alright then,” the Tyrumposaurus said to his family and final hangers-on gathered around him in the Oval Dwelling. His tone had that long familiar ring of the devil dino just before he fleeced your soul.

“Which one of you is going to hand over your flock of Trollertweeties so I can get the word out with my base, I mean, our base.” 

Crickets.

“Need I remind you that I’m doing this for Dino Nation.”

More crickets. Except it was actually quieter because the crickets had, incredibly, pulled out their wings when they realized who they were chirping for. A wingless cricket enters early retirement of course and that’s nothing to shake a, uh … wing at because after all, they only live 90 days.

“Don Jr., what about you? I know I can count on you.”

“But I need my Trollertweeties, dad. Um, to say great things about you. Am I right? But not too great. Because I don’t want to wind … up … like … you. Kimberly? My low bar sweetie?”

“I don’t want her Trollertweety. She’s not family.”

Awkward. But awkward crashed and burned one hundred times a day around the T-Rump.

“Eric?”

“Gee, dad. I just had another dino follow me the other day. That makes five. Why don’t you ask the Tyvanka?”

“Because she needs her Trollertweeties more than all of you put together. Times ten.”

He turned to the Tymelania. The look she gave him told him that asking her would release all his wife’s colorful Christmas-decoration aggression on him in a spectacular Be Best moment. No, he’d do well to skip her. The Tyvankanatrix smiled sweetly at him. 

“Sorry about your impeachment, daddy.”

“Impeached? I wasn’t impeached. And I wasn’t impeached the last time either. I was acquitted. They all quit.”

“Sorry, my bad.”

She smiled her condescending smile at the group. Their shoulders all slumped another inch. She was of course the only family dino who could mention the T-Rump’s record-breaking second impeachment without getting her head chewed off.

“Un, T-Rump?” It was the Markmeadows.

“What is it, Mark?”

“Well, with the moolah-moolah leaves no longer coming in, it’s that time of the month and … uh …”

“Spit it out.”

“Rudy wants his money.”

“Tell me. Did he get the Georgia Orchard, Pennsylvaneus, Michigonia and Dairyland to overturn their elections?”

“No, I’m afraid he didn’t.”

“Then he’s not getting paid. That’s the deal. Not one moolah-moolah leaf. He knew that was the deal.”

“Uh,” stammered the Markmeadows. “I didn’t even know that was part of the deal.”

“He knows who I am, what I am. Thirty-five hundred, or is it four thousand lawsuits now? Tell him, back of the line, bud.”

“Yes, T-Rump.”

The Markmeadows turned to leave.

“Oh, Mark, before you go.”

“Yes?”

“The Moscowmitch.”

Uh-oh. The dinos in the Oval Dwelling cringed as one.

“The Moscowmitch said he hates me. I don’t know why but … you know what to do.”

“I, uh … don’t follow.”

The T-Rump frowned. He tapped his claw on a flat rock.

“Plausible deniability. Don’t need to know.” He said it in a sing-song fashion.

“Of course.”

The Markmeadows hurried out of the cave. He had no idea what he was going to do. He could only hope, as with most other outlandish T-Rump requests, that his boss would forget all about it in 15 minutes.

The T-Rump turned to his family.

“Moscowmitch hates me. He hates me? What for? Does he think I’m wicked? C’mon. For all that I’ve done for him? For Dino Nation? No, not buying it. He’s the one that’s wicked. That’s who. He’s the wicked one.”

And the T-Rump burst into song.

What a surprise when Pence did not come through

Those were three wild Wednesdays but what can they do? 

I did nothin’ wrong, did nothin’ wrong

But they’re sayin’ it strong, sayin’ it strong

I’m gonna rob them blind and then I’ll reappear

I am too wicked says the docket, believe me, my fans hold me dear

I did nothin’ wrong, did nothin’ wrong

But they’re sayin’ it strong, sayin’ it strong

That I’m too wicked and impeached twice

Won’t you back my flag, they said last night

That I’m too wicked and impeached twice

That I’m too wicked and impeached twice

I’m gonna rob them blind and then I’ll reappear

I am too wicked says the docket, believe me, my fans hold me dear

I did nothin’ wrong, did nothin’ wrong

But they’re sayin’ it strong, sayin’ it strong

That I’m too wicked and impeached twice

Won’t you back my flag, they said last night

That I’m too wicked and impeached twice

Won’t you back my flag, they said last night

That I’m too wicked and impeached twice

Won’t you back my flag, let’s make it right

I’m not too wicked and impeached twice

I’m not too wicked and impeached twice

……………………………

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!

“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!

“Uh, it’s good to see you back in the Oval Dwelling,” said the Moscowmitch. “It’s too bad you had to cut short your holiday at Mar-a-Guano.”

“I had to,” grunted the Tyrumposaurus. “I couldn’t sit there staring at the Tymelania’s gawd-awful scratchings on the wall one more minute, dammit!” 

“Was it Be Best or Be Worst?”

Awkward silence. The T-Rump wasn’t biting.

“Uh, well then, perhaps we should cut to the chase. Why exactly did you want to see me today?”

“Because I wanted to hear from your own mouth how the Joshhawley is doing a bang-up job, coming out like he did, ready to contest the dino electoral college votes in a few days’ time. I need to hear your warm, ringing, good cheer praise for his actions. Right here. Right now.”

Like a sudden, large bullfrog burp, the Moscowmitch’s cheeks inflated with surprise. Full of air too, but nothing close to resembling words of affirmation.

“A-hah! I was right. You can’t do it. Whose side are you on, Mitch?”

“Well … I – I did put your anti-Mediacircustops and your election fraud commission requests in the bill. Consider it dead. Dead on arrival, T-Rump. Like the other 400 stone dead bills in my cave.”

“Not good enough. Not by a longshot. Haven’t seen you in days. Hmm. The Mincepencenow has been avoiding me as well.” He pointed an accusing claw at the Moscowmitch. “You and him. You’re plotting together against me. Go ahead and admit it. I know a good conspiracy theory when I see one.”

“I don’t even like him. It’s downright embarrassing watching him … I’m sorry. I said too much. I know you enjoy his fawning adulation.”

The T-Rump had already moved on.

“And what’s with this whole kerfuffle in the Georgia Orchard? I’m going down there and have no idea what the hell I’m getting into. The Davidperdue and the Kellyloeffler want to give the dinos two thousand moolah-moolah leaves but they don’t want to say my election was rigged because they want their own votes. And you added my issues to your bill and now the dinos won’t get their two thousand that I’ve been screaming about. How the hell did we even get here? What moron is responsible for this?”

“Well, T-Rump. You’ve said a mouthful but allow me to explain.”

“Oh, so I’m the moron, am I?”

“N-o-o-o-o.”

“I’m not the moron. You’re the moron! You’re the moron! Neil! Get in here right now! ” 

The Neildiamond sheepishly entered the room and found a spot to the side of the cave. The T-Rump snorted.

“I’m not nuts. Ahem. I’ll just keep getting a second opinion. Meanwhile, I’m going to set you straight, you turkey gobbling, grey-waddled, old goofy gofer. My goofy gofer. Who is not in my corner. Hmph. We’ll see about that. Maximum embarrassment. Maximum in-your-face embarrassment. Go ahead, Neil. Let him have it.”

The musical dino raised a short arm.

“I, uh … made a few last minute adjustments …”

“Shut up and sing.”

Kentucky moron

He lines up his own to the right

He only confronts

And he tells you all to sit tight

And his power, God knows, his power

Kentucky moron

He only shows you

How much he owns you

Kentucky moron

Well, you see his turtle head turn

To excuses too lame

Vaccine aside, he’s the big shot

Of poison pill fame

And you can’t flee

God knows, you can’t flee

Kentucky moron

He only shows you

How much he owns you

Kentucky moron

He’s out of touch

Who gave Satan back his seat?

Georgia’s touch

Just the girl to

Knock him down, sit for good

Ain’t no doubt, gotta get him out

Kentucky moron

He only shows you

How much he owns you

Kentucky moron

He’s out of touch

Who gave Satan back his seat?

Georgia’s touch

Just the girl to

Knock him down, sit for good

Ain’t no doubt, gotta get him out 

Kentucky moron

He only shows you

How much he owns you

Kentucky moron

Kentucky moron

Kentucky moron

……………………………

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!

The pain. Oh, the pain. The Tyrumposaurus had a splitting, smack-between-the-eyes, double-migraine headache that had him seeing stars, stripes and the red glare of ex-PLO-sion … after … ex-PLO-sion. That damn Joebiden. A pox on the Donkeykongrus. And all his namby-pamby Grandoldparty dinos, afraid to call out the widespread fraud that had stolen the election from him. He was loath to admit they had cheated better than him. They would pay. They would all pay for this gross negligence of … of … fair play? He struggled with the phrase, even the concept, because it was a rather moot point with him.

In between the grimacing mental blasts of red glare, he took stock of the several milestones he’d accomplished thus far in his scorched earth policy. Because if he wasn’t happy, there would be no good cheer in Dino Nation. Not a hint of a smile. 

“Make them wait for the Covid relief package,” said a wee voice in the back of his head before being shot down by another red glare zinger. 

Benefits had already lapsed for millions of idle dinos. Check. If he didn’t sign, the dino government would soon shut down. The focus was squarely on him. Where it should be. The Davidperdue and the Kellyloeffler were in very awkward spots in the Georgia Orchard Sin Hut run-off next week. They needed him badly. Check. Pardons galore to his cronies to show the Muellersavus who was boss even if the Williambarr had recently exited stage left mumbling some face-saving fake news rhetoric.

But the T-Rump’s dino accomplices were abandoning him as he had 24 days left to rule. He made a mental note to remind a staffer, if any should be brave enough to come out from hiding, to research and triple-check all available avenues he could venture down to make life as miserable as possible for the everyday, garden-chewing-variety Donkeykongrus dino. Rumbling in his head aside, this was the perfect storm. Covid was doing it’s destructive job. He wasn’t doing his.

Yet he had made his point because it was his show. He’d pushed Dino Nation to the brink of mass riot. Alright already. The waiting game was over. He’d sign the bill. Not in weakness however. With strength. He’d sign it with lies. 

The sharp pangs of his headache finally began backing off, easing enough in their intensity to allow him to marshall more devilish thoughts. Within minutes he was back to normal, growling under his breath, ready to go on the attack. Headaches were the seed to his temper. What didn’t kill him made him yearn for more power, more destruction. To pass on said headache to others more deserving of it. This was the stage of negotiating — the art of the deal — to which he had lowered himself. Headaches all around. Migraine. Your-graine. 

He’d sign but with an attention-grabbing addendum. Tell them they will have to remove wasteful items from the bill. Make them add vaccine moolah-moolah and much, much more. That’s vague enough. Increase the payment to 2,000. And last but most importantly, make them focus strongly on the very substantial voter fraud which took place in the election. None of this would ever happen of course, but it showed his base exactly where he stood. Winning.

He smirked at his latest spin-to-win strategy and burst into song.

I’m fixing a hole where the pain gets in

And stops my mouth from slandering

A friend or foe

I’m killing the chance for those that need more

They can take up panhandling

Away they go

And it really doesn’t matter if

I’m wrong I’m right

I’ve just begun to fight

I’ve just begun

See my allies sitting there

They don’t like me, don’t want me in

And worry how I will settle the score

I’m hating the doom in a sorrowful way

And then my mouth is slandering

The bad words flow

And it really doesn’t matter if

I’m wrong I’m right

I’ve just begun to fight

I’ve just begun

Unemployed run aground

Military can never please me

Sign the stimulus, what for?

I’m marking the time for I can still pull strings

To make your cloud the darkest grey

And get your dough

I’m fixing a hole where the pain gets in

Stops my mouth from slandering

A friend or foe

How low I’ll go

I’m fixing a hole where the pain gets in

Stops my mouth from slandering

A friend or foe

How low I’ll go

……………………………

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!