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Today at the Jest Wing [1]
['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.']
Date: 2025-07-09
In some alternate universe, nothing like this ever happens — we hope
At the Pale House, President Rummy’s Chief of Stuff Suzee De Files barged in on Rummy in his private quarters. The president was applying his Radioactive Orange makeup. He slipped and put the brush across his eyes. In a fit of anger, he threw his leftover Big Mac against the wall with a splat.
“Suzee! You’ve interrupted me in the middle of ordering flag poles!” He turned to his speaker phone. “Stand down and stand by, Enrique. I’ll call you back.” Then he turned his meanest frown on his Chief of Stuff. “Brenda, you’re fired.”
“Suzee, Sire.” The aide momentarily wavered, then gathered herself. “Sire, there’s a COVID-25 outbreak in thirty states and a measles plague in forty. Poutin is bombing Poland. Chairman Gee is invading Taiwan. Dim Jo Ug is nuking Japan. The US dollar is now worth five cents Canadian. Every city is protesting against you, and ICIS arrests are way under quota. It’s a hundred thirty degrees outside, and eggs are $80 each.”
The President’s glare diminished to his usual scowl. “One of those sounded serious. You’re unfired, Judy.”
“Suzee.”
“Okay, then.” He had already gone back to applying his radiance. This was a necessity. His complexion was so gray that Attorney-Criminal Bam Blondie would mistake him for a zombie and shoot him like a mutt.
“That guy in office before me, those bad things are all his policies. Not only the worst president in history, he’s also the worst in pre-history, even before the Stone Age. Bidden really screwed us, didn’t he?”
“I agree a hundred million percent, Sire. He was a scourge on the land — on the whole world. What are your orders?”
“Another Big Mac and a large Diet Coke. Missing breakfast isn’t manly.”
“But the problems, Sire . . .”
“I’ll solve everything after breakfast, during my golf game.”
“Sire, it’s already eleven o’clock in the morning.”
“Then I should have lunch, too. Add a bucket of fried chicken, a large side of All-American French Fries, and change that large drink to a two-liter. I have to watch WEASIL News for my policy of the day. Then I’ll solve every problem over golf. I’ll make America great again before dinner.”
“Oh, but there’s other bad news, Sire.”
“More Bidden sabotage. What is it?”
“You can’t golf today.”
He looked like he was about to give up and go back to bed. “But I was going to take care of everything during that game. Why not?”
“Scar-Imago was hit hard by Hurricane Bullwinkle. It’s under eight feet of ocean, and so is the rest of Florida.”
“Isn’t FEMUR doing anything?”
“Somebody de-funded them, sire.”
He paused, nodded. “If FEMUR wasn’t prepared to save Scar-Imago, they deserved Leon’s chainsaw. What about my course in New Jersey. You know, that place . . . Bedminster?”
“That one’s called Badmitten, Sire.”
Rummy’s ashen face went vivid, spotty pink. His voice turned extra-scratchy with rage. “If I said its name is Bedminister. Then its Badminister! And if the sign is wrong when I arrive there, you’ll be polishing my gold toilet.”
Suzee turned slightly green. “Oh, please Sire, not again. Can’t you just fire me like you always do? But I’m afraid . . . Badminister disappeared into a sink hole.”
For a second, the Chief of Stuff thought he’d cry. “Now that’s a disaster!”
“But what do we do about Florida? You can’t win every election forever without its electoral votes.”
“I’m way ahead of you, Lara.
“Suzee.”
“Yeah, whoever. It’s not a disasta; it’s an opportunity. Put Murco Rubo in charge of draining the swamp. And make sure the public knows I’m keeping that promise.”
“Murco could be a little overworked, Sire. He’s already Secretary of Hate, Acting National Security Divider, US Arsonist, and Head of USAIDS. The man looks like a scarecrow.”
Rummy’s gaze went thousand-yard, and he sighed. “If only Jared . . .”
“Javid?”
Rummy hissed. “Yes, of course, that’s who I was thinking of. My son-in-law. If only he still worked for me– Wait! Didn’t Leon chainsaw USIADS?
“That’s US . . .Yes, sire.”
“Then Murco now has an opening in his schedule. Give it to him.”
“Pure super-genius, Sire. ”
“Did I ever tell you how I aced the cot — coga — intill — until — aced that smart test? Five times in a row?”
She sighed. “I never heard it before, Sire. Please tell me.”
“I put all the round pegs into the round holes, but, the square ones — those were difficult, but I got them in all the square holes, too. Then I pointed to the right animal pictures when I heard their sounds from that Fischer-Price IQ tester thing, and I even spelled out “CAT” with blocks. The doctor said he’d never seen anything like it in the whole history of brains. He’s going to publish it one of those a science magazine things. He said my IQ is off the chart.”
“Inspiring Sire. You should finally get smart-people’s respect now.”
“Since we’re talking about all my smart things, did you know Abraham Lincoln had a beard?”
“No, Sire. I missed that historically obscure detail.”
“Many people don’t know that.”
“I’m certain.” Suzee’s phone chimed. She opened it and read a text message. “It seems that California is seceding, Sire.”
“Sus — What?”
“Leaving the Union.”
Rummy’s jaw dropped. “After I saved them from all those illegals and rioters? I should’ve gotten a Nobel Peace Prize just for that. Those ungrateful hippies! I released enough water to put out all the California fires in the future. That Governor Nuisance is an enemy of the people.”
“Yes, Sire, very disloyal of him.” Her phone chimed again. “And Oregon and Washington are going with them. They’re all joining Canada as its 11th province.” Rummy’s gray complexion flushed fickle pink again.
The Chief of Stuff knew she had to intervene before his Diet Coke hit the wall. “You’ve outsmarted your enemies again, Sire! Those are all Democrat states. When they leave, all those Democrat electoral votes disappear. You’ll win every election in landslides forever. You’re a twenty-dimensional chess master. The master of heroic masterminds.”
Discovery dawned on Rummy’s face with something like a smile. “Yes, it was my secret plan all along,” he said with perfect certainty.
“And it more than makes up for Florida sinking into the Gulf of America, Sire.” A new text came through. “Hmm. It looks like Alaska is seceding, too, but they’re joining Russia.”
Now Rummy went angry pink. “Badimir! My only brainy equal. I have an idea. Get him on the phone. I’ll go to war with him, threaten nukes, and change my mind. That’ll win me the Nobel Peace Prize, easy.”
“You’re intellect is unmatched, Sire. But you need some lunch to power that awesome brain of yours.” The Chief of Stuff reached for the door.
“Oh, and De-vanka . . .”
“Suzee.”
“Yeah, you.” He shook the empty spray can. “Bring more hair starch.”
[END]
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