Tag: Satire

This weekend, north of the Milkanhoney Preservation, came the collective roar of much celebrating by dinosaurs in Canadiana, home to the Backbaconsaurus. The ruckus reached the ears of the Tyrumposaurus, who turned to his latest sidekick-yet-to-be-kicked-out, the Mickmulvaney.

“Mick, what’s going on with our northern neighbours?”

“Why, it’s that time of year when Canadiana dinos from near and far come together to give thanks.”

“Really, I’d like you to get all the Grandoldparty dinos together so they can thank to me.”

“But we’re doing that in six weeks.”

“And we’re doing it now. Admit it, you can’t thank me enough.”

That was how dozens of Grandoldparty dinos came to gather before the T-Rump — six weeks early — to pay homage to him and celebrate all of his stunning accomplishments from the past year. 

This had of course once been the proud dino pack of the Abrahamlincoln but it had since thrown aside the rules of dino law and good government in favor of scaring the bejesus out of respectful dino folk. Absolutely nothing was sacred for the Tyrumposaurus as he continued his tenacious tenure as a strictly transactional tyrant. 

He’d be counting heads today and what have you done for me lately meant being here before him. And here they were. His all-star team of dino delinquents: the morose Moscowmitch, the clear as mud Kevinmccarthy, the jumpy Jimjordan, the mundane Markmeadows and dozens more Grandoldparty dinos who knew full well that calling out the T-Rump meant being culled from the herd.

That didn’t stop the one prevailing thought running through each of their scrawny noggins, which was how the Rudygiuliani and his Russo-ragamuffins, the Levparnas and the Igorfruman had been caught smearing the Marieyovanovitch in the T-Rump’s quest to get foreign dinos to help him win the next big battle. The truth was now coming out, entrapping powerful dinos like the Mikepompeo in a chain of corruption that led to the ringmaster himself. Impeachment was the white elephant squatting on all of them.

The T-Rump had wanted to build in an entertainment factor to this year’s giving of thanks, so he demanded they craft their message into a song. With extra harmony. He didn’t know what that meant. It was just his Big Word of the Day. This order for musical merriment was due in large part because no dinos liked singing at his battle campaign rallies. Indeed, many had demanded that he stop singing their songs or they would gladly roar obscenities in his ear.

The leader of the free running dino world smiled smugly, turned to his entourage, gave them the thumbs up and their tribute began …

 

Thank you, on you we depend

Traveled down a road and back again

Outsmart the few, we’ll grin and bear it, at every taunt

 

We’re not ashamed to say

We hope it always will stay this way

The jig is up, but you’re still here and we don’t know how

 

And if you threw a party

Invited everyone you knew

You would see, that most would flee but here we’d be

And puckering up to say

Thank you, on you we depend

Thank you, it’s fine you offend

Thank you, don’t let it all end

Thank you, we’ll kiss your rear end

 

If you’re under attack

We’d surely, blindly protect your back 

Whatever you need, anytime of the day or night

We’re not ashamed to say

We hope it always will stay this way

The jig is up, but you’re still here and we don’t know how

 

And when the Turks get bolder

And kill all the Kurds in their way

Have no fear, you’ve been perfectly clear

We will stand by you and say

Thank you, on you we depend (We wanna thank you)

Thank you, it’s fine you offend (We wanna thank you)

Thank you, don’t let it all end (We wanna thank you)

Thank you, we’ll kiss your rear end (We wanna spank you)

Let us not impeach! Amen! (We wanna thank you)

Thank you, it’s fine you offend (We wanna thank you)

Thank you, don’t let it all end (We wanna thank you)

Thank you, we’ll kiss your rear end

 

And when we lose and slink away

Into the night, down Satan’s way

You’ll hear us call, as we descend

We’ll find you there, the devil’s friend

Thank you, we’ll kiss your rear …

Mwa-a-a-h … mwah-mwah-mwah-mwah-mwah … mwa-a-a-h

 

Thank you, on you we depend (We wanna thank you)

Thank you, it’s fine you offend (We wanna thank you)

Thank you, don’t let it all end (We wanna thank you)

Thank you, we’ll kiss your rear end

Dinos, we can’t impeach! Amen! (We wanna thank you)

Thank you, it’s fine you offend (We wanna thank you)

Thank you, don’t let it all end (We wanna thank you)

Thank you, we’ll kiss your rear end 

Woah, we can’t impeach! Amen! (Thank you right now, don’t leave with my friend)

We wanna tell you right now and we’ll tell you again

We wanna spank you, spank you, spank your flabby rear end.

The Mikepompeo entered the dank, dimly lit cave. He was far from home, having traveled to the Italiaroma region of Ubruzzo-Ma-Placenta. The Secretary of Dino State made out the figure of another dino in the cave and approached him.

“Bless you,” said the dino.

“I didn’t sneeze. Say, I was told I could find a beefy Rackosaurus around here.”

“I’m afraid you’re in the wrong place.”

“Well, what do you have then? I’m starved.”

“Ahem. Do you know who I am?”

“Easy pal, I get that all the time in the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir.”

“You’re in the Confessional Cavern. I’m the Popefrancisaurus.”

“Really?”

A solemn nod from the dino Pope.

“Would you like to make a confession?”  

“Well, uh … sure, I suppose I could confess. Something. But, and here’s the kicker. I haven’t done anything wrong. Ever.”

“We’re all sinners. Every last dino. Perhaps that’s what brought you here today.”

The dino Pope’s words hung there like claws tapping on the Mikepompeo’s shoulder. Nudging. Needling.

“Okay, okay. Alright already. If you must know, I was trying to get away from that damn Giuliani.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I want to kill him. Pardon my Italian.” 

“Anything else? I mean, while you’re here?”

“Uh, well … I’ll fess up about a little lie. I just used this ‘visiting my ancestor’s stomping grounds’ thing as an excuse to get away.”

“Come now. We must cleanse your soul. Tell me all your sins. Every last one. I know you can.”

An hour passed. The Mikepompeo was streaming with sweat. The Popefrancisaurus looked over him, beaming at his repentant dino.

“There now, that felt better didn’t it?” He checked his tabulations in the sand. “Now then, your penance will be 484 Frail Berries.”

“Say what?”

“Mustard seed is out of season.”

“Oh.”

The Mikepompeo exited the cave in search of frail berries. He ventured down the main path passing several watering holes, including the Copa-Banana, where the crooning Dinomartino was just rising from his squat for his opening number …

 

Unhappily, T-Rump is king

When time to blame,           

Here’s what he’ll say …

 

When a boob that’s my guy can so easily lie

That’s Pom-pay-oh

When the state once so fine is in deep, deep decline 

That’s Pom-pay-oh

He’s a real ding-a-ling-a-ling, ding-a-ling-ling

And he’ll scream, “Giu-li-an-i!”

Leaks will come drippy-drip each day, drippy-drip away

Like he heard the Zelensky!

When his push-back’s not cool and state jobs are not full 

That’s Pom-pay-oh

When you lack the back bone to admit the well-known

And thereof

When you chalk up a scheme but you know you’re just scheming for more dough

Scuzza me, but you see, s-o-o-o unhappily

That’s Pom-pay-oh

 

When a boob that’s my guy can so easily lie

That’s Pom-pay-oh

When the state once so fine is in deep, deep decline 

That’s Pom-pay-oh

He’s a real ding-a-ling-a-ling, ding-a-ling-ling

And he’ll scream, “Giu-li-an-i!”

Leaks will come drippy-drip each day, drippy-drip away

Like he heard the Zelensky! 

When his push-back’s not cool and state jobs are not full 

That’s Pom-pay-oh

When you lack the back bone to admit the well-known

And thereof

When you chalk up a scheme but you know you’re just scheming for more dough

Scuzza me, but you see, s-o-o-o unhappily

That’s Pom-pay-oh

Pom-pay-oh, that’s Pom-pay-oh

The Mincepencenow ate his raw Bracchiosaurus ribs without even tasting them. The second in command to the Tyrumposaurus had a lot on his mind lately. While the T-Rump had made leveraging foreign leaders to dishing dirt on opponents a national pastime, the Mincepencenow had unfortunately finally been dragged into the mess. He looked across the bloody Bracchiosaurus at his wife. She too was picking at her entrails. Uh-oh. Bracchiosaurus usually made her ravenous. They’d had three little dinos together and though her name was Karen, after sharing the same den for 34 years, he knew her only as mother. She’d been there for him through thick and thin. This was the official thick of it.

She spit out a bone, barely missing him.

“How could you?” she snapped.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For, uh … that bone not hitting me?”

“Mike, you’re in trouble. We’re in trouble.”

“Mother, I told them I spoke with the Zelensky in Poland Springs. I mentioned the T-Rump and how we wanted the Zelensky to look into corruption. I got home, saw the T-Rump and we gave them the military aid. That’s all I did, dear. It’s a good thing.”

She looked at him, her eyes a pair of searing pools of molten lava boring two holes in his head.

“This is me you’re talking to. The Mediacircustops knows you knew about the Joebiden issue the very next day, six weeks before you saw the Zelensky.”

“But I had one of my dinos say I might have heard it and that maybe it …”

“Didn’t fully register? R-i-i-i-i-g-h-t. What the hell is that, Mike? Are you trying to get us impeached because it sure looks that way. They’re finally onto us after all these many months. They can’t wait to take it away from us. I am so close to being the first lady. So close I can taste it,” she said, blood dripping from her jowls. “Do you know how much I want to wipe that “be best because my husband’s a boob” sneer off the Tymelania’s face?!”

“Yes, mother.” 

“I’m tired of being second. I hate being second. What do you have to say to that?

She glared down at him. He stared down at his Bracchiosaurus. Finally he looked up at her. 

 

Mother do you think I’ll lose my job?

Mother do you think I’m right or wrong?

Mother, do you think they’ll try to break my balls?

Ooh, aah, mother, should we build the wall?

 

Mother, should I be the president?

Mother, should we make the gays repent?

Mother, can you help me build up my spine?

Ooh, aah, do you still like my hairline?

 

Hush now, Mikey, Mikey, don’t you cry

Mama’s gonna end all those abortions, it’s true

Mama’s gonna put all of her hooks into you

Mama’s gonna keep you right here under her thumb

She won’t let you talk cuz you might just sound dumb

Mama’s gonna keep Mikey and his income

Ooh, Mikey, ooh, Mikey, ooh, Mikey

Of course mama’s gonna help T-Rump fall

Mother, do you think they’ll really vote … for me?

Mother, do you think they’ll send bank notes … to me?

Mother, will they tear me literally apart?

Ooh, aah, mother, will they think I’m smart?

Hush now, Mikey, Mikey, don’t you cry

Mama’s gonna punch out those Russodinos for you

Mama won’t let any ol’ poison get through

Mama’s gonna wait up ’til you get Flynn

Mama will always find out who’s living in sin

Mama’s gonna keep Mikey real squeaky clean

Ooh, Mikey, ooh, Mikey, ooh, Mikey

You’ll always be Mikey to me

 

Mother, do I need to always lie?

The good dinos of the Milkanhoney Preservation were at the brink. Literally. Their very well being depended upon it. At their back were the somber, blowing, bellowing Winds of Impeachment, a freak dino dust bowl atmospheric effect that brought enough hot air to leave your head spinning. Before their large dino feet was the Fullbore-Partisan Divide, a great chasm separating them from the other side. 

Fortunately, there was a narrow, natural bridge across the 50-yard divide, a bridge with a fork in it no less. One side led true north to the High Road. The other side took a southern path to the Wastelands. It was not a trek for the faint of heart, as the dizzying look down to the swampy depths of Troubled Waters reminded them.

The unwashed masses — it had been a long day in the sun — peered across the bridge at the choice before them. On the High Road, stood the respected Donkeykongrus. Over in the Wastelands were the resolute Grandoldparty dinos. A secondary divide, the chasm between the two parties themselves was only five feet but it may as well have been five miles. No dino even considered making the jump.

The undecided dinos put their heads together because two walnuts were better than one. They barely had a chance to crack nuts when the clouds parted, a Trollertweety squawked and a Whistleblower dino appeared. He took in his vast audience, raised his short arms to them and said …

“I’ve been with the Tyrumposaurus now for two years. That is to say, I’ve been to hell and back. Half a dozen dinos with direct knowledge — that’s right, dino gospel — they spoke to me. And I listened. I also made Comeyonus-like copious footprints in the sand. Boy, do I have a story to tell. I will speak to you soon. That’s why you really should follow me when I head north, right this way to the High Road.”

“Hey! You can’t say that. Only I can say that!”

It was the T-Rump on the Wastelands side.

“Stop right there! Don’t listen to him! He’s a dino spy! Hold me back. I’m gonna execute him like we did in the good ol’ days.”

No dinos stepped forward to hold the T-Rump back. He stepped behind another dino to make it look that way. He realized the situation’s awkwardness, coughed and stepped back in front.

“Okay, Mick. We have a lot of dinos over there who want to pick me. What’s the plan?”

The Mickmulvaney gulped.

“Plan? Sorry, boss. I got nothin’.”

“Idiot! What do you mean nothing? You’ve known about this for a month!”

The T-Rump looked up at the many gawking dinos from across the abyss.

“Uh, that’s right. I’ve got my best dinos on this. Tell him how great you are, Mick.” 

“Not as great as you are, T-Rump.”

“Good answer. Now get out of my sight. And don’t forget to remind me tomorrow to consider firing you. You know how I forget about these things.”

“Will do, boss.”

The T-Rump turned to the unwashed masses across the way.

“This is T-Rump harassment to the highest degree of T-Rump harassment!”

Some dinos on the other side scratched their heads.

“It’s bad,” the T-Rump continued. “Tell’em how bad, Matt. You got all the talking points, didn’t you? Tell me you got all the talking points.”

“I – I did. Ahem. Did you, uh … have a preference for which one first?”

This was taking too long. The T-Rump motioned for him to get yapping. The Mattgaetz looked across the divide.

“The Donkeykongrus are playing pin the tail on impeachment. You know that ‘pin the tail on the donkeysaurus’ child’s game?”

Blank stares from the multitude of dinos.

“You know, where you take the tail and you, you … you pin it, see …”

The dinos weren’t getting it, though it looked like the Mattgaetz was going to get it from the T-Rump. The Nancypelosi called out from the High Road.  

“Your forefathers, if they were here today, they would line their tails together and say this is a cover-up of a cover-up.”

The undecided dinos mulled this over, many nodding in agreement.

“This … This, I tell you,” said the Devilnunesmemo in his doomsday baritone, “is a sad, sad day for the Milkanhoney Preservation. Just miserable. I don’t know how I’m keeping myself from jumping off this cliff. When the Adamschiff has the audacity to fabricate elements of what the T-Rump said …”

“I understood it,” came a lone voice from the other side. “It was a parody, bozo.”

“That it was,” said the Adamschiff from the High Road. “Would you like to hear it again?”

A roar of approval went up from the dino nation.

“I’m gonna put you in touch with dinos and not just any dinos. I’m gonna put you in touch with the Williambarr. He’s got the whole weight of the legal dinos behind him and I’m gonna put you in touch with Rudy. You’re gonna love him, trust me. You know what I’m asking, so I’m only going to say this a few more times in a few more ways. And by the way, don’t call me again; I’ll call you when you’ve done what I asked.”

Laughter rang out across the abyss. The T-Rump fumed.

“They’re laughing at me.”

“No, no,” said the Stephaniegrisham. “They’re laughing with him. With him. Not at you.” She bit her tongue.

“Oh. Okay.”

The Jimjordan jumped in.

“Hold on there. What about the Joebiden’s son, the Hunterbiden. He’s over there in the Ukraine Plain, making 50-thousand moolah-moolah leaves in the Ukraine and he doesn’t know a thing. What about that, huh?”

“That’s nothing,” said the T-Rump. “Why, Donny boy, T-Rump Jr., and the Tyvanka, they make more money than that when they’re off the Preservation.”

“T-Rump,” hissed the Jimjordan. You’re killin’ me. You’re killin’ yourself.”

“I can’t kill myself. I could shoot myself in the middle of Crime Square and I’d get away with it.”

“You’d be dead, T-Rump,” said the Stephaniegrisham, straining to cry a fake tear.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Do the right thing, T-Rump. Resign!”

It was the Betosaurus.

The T-Rump slowly shook his head and lowered his voice.

“I hate that guy.”

The Kellyanneconvixway chimed in.

“Where’s the Mediacircustops accusations of the Oval Dwelling stonewalling now? We know what the T-Rump said to the Zelensky because the T-Rump is s-o-o-o transparent.”

“Ix-nay on the ansparence-tray,” said the Stephenmillerus.

On the High Road, the five Badassasaurae stepped forward and the Elissaslotkin addressed the crowd.

“Having the leader of the Dino Nation use leverage over a foreign dino to get dirt on an opponent, well, as national security dinos, that just cut too close to the bone.”

The dinos across the divide all cringed as one. No dinosaur liked being reminded about their bones. En masse, the dinosaurs began crossing the bridge their tails pointing toward the High Road.

“Send in Rudy!” shouted the T-Rump.

“God, no,” the Mickmulvaney said shuddering.

The Rudygiuliani stumbled out of the Grandoldparty dino pack, waving his arms, bug-eyed and gnashing his teeth.

“I wouldn’t cooperate with the Adamschiff. … I didn’t say that! … I said I will consider it. …  I wouldn’t cooperate with the Adamschiff. … I didn’t say that! … I said I will consider it.”

A dino mother leaned down to her little one. 

“Don’t listen to the crazy old dino.” She took her dino tot by the hand. “Come along, dear. We’re taking the High Road.”

It was the promise heard round the world. The Whistleblower dino controversy with the Ukraine Plain continued to plague the Oval Dwelling. The Tyrumposaurus had sent out several fleets of Trollertweeties to rake the countryside with his ever-changing side of the story but this latest scandal was a month’s worth of debacles rolled into one. It needed reinforcements badly. Some Grandoldparty dino had to go mainstream. That is, visit with the Mediacircustops to defend the T-Rump come hell or high swamp water.

The T-Rump surveyed his cast of cronies in the Oval Dwelling. Should he send in the Stephenmillerus? No. Better to keep his fire and fury focused on dino migration. Controlled chaos as it were. What about the Rudygiuliani? Lately, he’d broken his own record by contradicting himself in four seconds flat. No, this called for a dino who could just squat there, play dumb and pull it off without even trying.

“Steven! Get out there and … don’t say anything!” 

That was how the Stevenmnuchin came to be squatting across from the Jaketapper. The Secretary Dino of Moolah-Moolah stared straight ahead, his jaw set, his lips tight. It was a convincing simple stooge look. His determination spoke volumes however. He was ready to sell out his own mother and hers too if necessary to save the T-Rump. That was the great mystique of the all-mighty moolah-moolah leaf.

“Steven,” began the Jaketapper, “I just want to start by asking, were you there when the T-Rump was pressuring the Zelensky to investigate the Joebiden’s son?”

“I, uh … was not there. But I’ve been in on many other T-Rump conversations with plenty of other dinos. All squeaky clean. All listening in. No issues whatsoever. Because of course the T-Rump never has issues with anything.”

“O-k-a-a-a-y. Not going down that rabbit hole. In those other conversations you were privy to, would it be common for the T-Rump to pressure foreign leaders to investigate political rivals here in the Milkanhoney Preservation?

“This week? Uh … no. You’re just speculating now. They’re just two foreign leaders having a confidential conversation. But the much bigger issue here is that the Joebiden said this weekend he didn’t have a business conversation with his son while — incredibly — his son said they had.”

“The story goes,” said the Jaketapper, “that all the Joebiden said was, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Aha! So what was he doing?”

“Not much. The Ukraine Plain dinos looked into the situation and found nothing. Moving right along, you said it’s speculation but two prominent Mediacircustops report that a Whistleblower dino was trying to bring his urgent, credible complaint to the Kongrus Kave … and just as a general premise, is it okay for any dino leader to hold hundreds of millions of moolah-moolah leaves over the head of a foreign leader to dig up dirt on a political rival. Is that acceptable?

“Speculation is such a wonderful word, isn’t it? I plan to use it often. Because that’s what you’re doing, Jake. I’m sorry. You’re sadly mistaken. The T-Rump just isn’t the type of dino to use pressure.”

“The T-Rump brought up the Joebiden issue eight times.”

“Speculation. Ahem. Pure speculation.”

“It’s not speculation. We’re talking prominent Mediacircustops reporting this. The Washingtonpostian and the Wallstreetjournalus.”

“So, everything they say we should assume is always factual?”

“Why not? They only report the facts. The T-Rump. The Zelensky. The Ukraine Plain. 250 million moolah-moolah leaves. Joebiden dirt. Where did we lose you?” 

The Stevenmnuchin blinked the blink of dumbfoundedness. Naturally. The Jaketapper continued.

“How many times did the T-Rump raise the Joebiden issue?”

“I find it interesting that with everything else going on in the dino world, including the Lewandowski graciously appearing at the hearing … and the dancing Seanspicer — don’t forget the dancing Seanspicer — why is there is so much interest in this story?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Because if it’s true, it’s an abuse of power and an impeachable offense?”

“Excuse me, I really need to deflect here. Dinos were worried, I was worried about the Joebiden’s son in the Ukraine Plain and what he was up to. Frankly, I couldn’t sleep at night.”

“Deflection time out.” The Jaketapper held up a short arm. “Back to the real news, the Whistleblower wants to bring his complaint to the Kongrus Kave and the Oval Dwelling is preventing that. If there really is nothing there, why not let the dinos that are allowed to see the complaint, see it?”

“I think that would be a terrible precedent.”

“Excuse me? Stopping the T-Rump from putting his own selfish desires before the dino nation’s interests? The T-Rump took an oath.”

“Conversations between political dinos are meant to be confidential.”

“Unless there’s a crime.”

“If every time someone for political reasons raised a question …”

“This issue was not about policy. It was fraud, bribery, extortion. Pick one.”

The wheels in the Stevenmnuchin’s walnut turned slowly. Deny. Deflection. Distraction. Delay. The 4D T-Rump Defense in action. He finally found his voice.

“Can we talk about the maximum pressure campaign?”

“We are.”

“I mean the Iranasaurae.”

“Maybe tomorrow. I’m going to stay here all night until you cave and answer my question. The Milkanhoney Preservation dinos want an answer. Is it the position of the T-Rump to pressure foreign dino leaders to investigate their political rivals because that is what alarms a lot of dinos. And if you say speculation one more time I will bite you.”

The Stevenmnuchin was surprisingly firm.

“The T-Rump said I could say speculation as often as I needed to. This was a congratulatory call. You know how long it took us to find something for the Zelensky to congratulate the T-Rump on? By the way, this isn’t the first time the T-Rump’s been attacked and things have turned out to be incorrect.”

“Incorrect? You mean dozens of attacks the T-Rump is fighting in the dino courts or stonewalling so they don’t see the light of day?” 

The Stevenmnuchin gulped. Quick. Distract.

“The T-Rump will be meeting next week with the Zelensky.”

“Will you be there?”

“If the T-Rump thinks I saved his butt with you today, then yes, I expect to be at that meeting.”

“If the T-Rump brings up his desire, which he will, to have the Zelensky investigate the Joebiden, perhaps for that other 140 million moolah-moolah leaves flying around … will you jump up and down, wave your arms and tell him he is breaking his oath of office and committing a high crime for which he can be impeached? Will you?”

“My conversations with the T-Rump are confidential.”

“He’s not talking to you. News flash. He doesn’t listen to you. He doesn’t listen to anybody. He’s talking to the Zelensky.”

The Stevenmnuchin withdrew into the warm exile of his faux-dino cocoon, a coping mechanism his dino doc had recommended he succumb to when fighting this anxiety that enveloped him like flop sweat whenever he was forced to talk about the T-Rump for more than seven-and-a-half minutes. 

The Jaketapper saw this as an opportunity to move in with a final, hard-hitting question. Hammer time.

“If this was the Obamarus instead of the T-Rump, and he approached a foreign dino leader to get dirt on the T-Rump Jr. or the Erictyrumposaurus, would you not find that inappropriate?”

“Again with the speculation. What I do find inappropriate is the Joebiden’s son–”

“You’re not listening. Take the moolah-moolah out of your ears. So it’s okay for the T-Rump’s children to do their thing all over dino world but not okay for the Joebiden’s son.”

“Again, I don’t really want to go into more detail. You know how the T-Rump hates details.”

“Steven, you do realize you have just set a precedent that the leader of the dino nation is violating.

“Again, I think that there’s a significant difference in, in what you’re saying. Okay. Or what I was saying … or what one of us was saying, between the Joebiden and his son’s relationship with a Ukraine Plain oligarch.”

“Oh, goody,” said the Jaketapper, wringing his hands in glee. “Oligarchs! Tied to the T-Rump. Shall we? The Olegderipaska, the Vekselberg, the Prigozhin, the Rybolovlev, the Arasagalarov …”

The Stevenmnuchin’s eyes glazed over as the Jaketapper droned on, running down the lengthy list of prominent Russodinos who’d all played key roles in the T-Rump’s turbulent rise to power. The Stevenmnuchin making the T-Rump’s meeting with the Zelensky was suddenly in doubt.

But then again, when was the last sure thing of the Trumpassic Period?