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Many people are asking what Donald Trump is thinking. The answer is easy.
The US president had a syphilitic dream a while back. In this dream, Caligula’s horse and long-rumored consul came to him in the Oval Office. Donald was perturbed, not least of all because the intrusion was interrupting his Executive Sudoku Time.
He put down his pencil and looked up from all the 3s he had scribbled into the boxes at random. Incitatus began to speak, and Donald immediately averted his eyes, sensitive to the dangers of looking at a horse’s mouth when it is about to give you a gift.
“Donald!” the horse roared. “Listen to this!”
Donald was intrigued, conscious enough in his feverish state of slumber to know that his best ideas — other than those he got from Fox and Friends — came this way.
Incitatus trotted closer: “You are destined for greatness.”
Donald rolled his eyes. He didn’t need an ancient horse to tell him what he already knew. Plus, he was feeling a little triggered by the future sense of it. Destined for? More like, been there done that.
This dream was so far not so good. Sad!
Incitatus pretended to ignore Donald’s dismissiveness. He went on:
“Dollar domination has got the world by the pussy. Your maxim of maximum pressure is freaking genius and obviously brilliantly executed. Billionaires are so deluged in the sociopathic jizum of their orbital wet dreams that they are as clueless about the sane functioning of economic mechanisms as is the general population, thanks to decades of eroding public education and general welfare. Both will celebrate whatever half-baked dependent clause comes out of that Mad Libs mouth of yours.”
At this point, Donald drafted a Truth Social DM: Susie - make EO change Mad Libs to Crybaby Libs. AP must use or they’re out. For good this time!
Incitatus resumed:
“The liberal world order has primed itself for its own destruction. At home, government has always been the problem. Abroad, the barbarian sack was the plot that launched a thousand Tomahawks. Your predecessors have already done such a good job cueing up the final act. Sanctions, bailouts, backstops — tremendous stuff. The bar is so low your only danger is tripping over it.”
Donald didn’t really know where all this was going and, frankly, he was getting a little bored. Atlantic City had better entertainment.
Sensing this, Caligula’s horse picked up the pace:
“Rome wasn’t built in a day. It didn’t fall in one, either. But I bet you can top that. You can make the empire great again, sure, but that doesn’t make you more special than all the other guys who came before you with the aim of making the empire great. If you really want to set yourself apart, you — and only you — can be the one to end it. Once you have dominated everything what else is there but to subjugate yourself?”
With that, Incitatus took a dump on the Resolute Desk and disappeared. Donald woke up, the fleeting residue of manure lingering in his nostrils, still hearing the last thing the horse said as it vanished into the orange space between his ears:
“Heroes get remembered, but legends never die. You can do it, Donald.”
