The Trump Toupee Melee
The Trump Toupee Melee
A Euphoric Recall Special Report
I wrote this a long time ago and submitted it to some left-leaning publications to see if they’d publish it (no go). I figured I might as well post it here.
WASHINGTON, D.C. — In a stunning unfolding of events at last night’s State Dinner, one act of degeneracy seemed to beget another until a near-unanimous suspicion of the American electorate previously deemed unverifiable was instantly verified: President Trump does indeed wear a toupee.
The imbroglio started when former national security adviser Mr. John Bolton (he of the recently released bombshell memoir and scathing takedown of the President) crashed the post-prandial party in the State Dining Room and was spotted by Mr. Trump, about whom Bolton had a colorful thing or two to say in his most recent CNN interview, including that “Trump was often observed drawing genitalia doodles during briefings” and “When the President opens his mouth it all but forces you to go looking for a high bridge.” According to sources close to the administration, it was apparently the former remark that had sparked the President’s ire.
Thus it was that Mr. Trump, actuated by a spirit of revenge and seizing the opportunity to obtain redress, let loose a volley of high-volume expletives before making a beeline to the alcove and attempting to strike his former chief advisor with an open-handed left cross, whereupon Bolton (issuing an utterance that sounded a lot like “Golly Moses!”) had the presence of mind to duck so that Mr. Trump very unfortunately ended up cold-cocking the diminutive Nancy Pelosi, who collapsed like a kicked tent.
Whereupon in turn Democratic Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, seeing Speaker Pelosi dropped like a sack of refined flour by none other than the President himself (whom the formidable AOC is known to despise without guilt or reservation), emitted an absolutely sphincter-loosening shriek followed by several unintelligible sounds, the auditory gestalt of which was not unlike the noise you’d imagine a scalded cat might make, and (to the President’s naked horror and your correspondent’s amazement) was suddenly in the air, positively aloft and nearly horizontal, landing on Mr. Trump’s back and deploying what one eyewitness averred was a pretty authentic- and impressive-looking NYPD-style chokehold, prompting the President to commence gyrating in an effort to extricate Ms. AOC (whose long-repressed cage fighter-ambitions were flooding out in spectacular fashion) while he still had the cerebral oxygen to do so, and in the midst of a 360º twirl, Mr. Trump’s mussed coiffure was dislodged with such force that it was sent flying in an arc across the room, landing at the furry little paws of none other than Chairman Meow, Tiffany Trump’s wondrously fat cat, never to be recovered or even seen again.
It was at this juncture that the President addressed Ms. AOC in a fashion wholly inappropriate to social intercourse between civilized ladies and gentlemen, prompting Democratic Rep. Ayanna Pressley to deliver a swift kick to the President’s groin. No sooner had Mr. Trump himself been felled like a tree when the First Lady, her cortex spangling after consuming prodigious quantities of Moscow mules and hyper-sucrotic seasonal sorbet, stumbled over to the now fetal-postured Mr. Trump to interface with Reps. AOC and Presley both and tell them in no uncertain terms that she disapproved of their conduct, a conversation teeming with indelicate locutions that quickly devolved into an exercise in versatile vulgarity featuring spectacular parabolas of quivering phlegm (all dinner guests having been banned from wearing masks for “aesthetical reasons”), the exchange ending only when Mrs. Trump, wearing precariously-vertiginous heels, toppled over her prostrated husband and joined him on the floor.
It’s been reliably rumored that although most Secret Service agents are holed up in hotels due to having contracted the coronavirus at the Tulsa rally, a contingent was in fact present at the State Dinner but did not step in for reasons that remain unclear. However, one agent, speaking under the condition of anonymity for fear of reprisal, stated that after the start of last night’s fiasco, the President’s contingent simply decided to “get the righteous fuck out of that mad house” and feign ignorance, having long since lost patience with the Trump campaign for needlessly putting them at risk as the virus continues to rear its ugly head.
Early this morning, an apology video was posted to the official White House Twitter page with the President donning what was clearly an emergency backup toupee (Democratic Rep. Adam Schiff: “His hair looked like two Furbies fornicating.”), but Mr. Trump, who’s not exactly the most candescent star in the intellectual Orion and won’t be in the running for any elocution awards anytime soon and quite frankly has the explicative ability of a toothless toddler, seems to have been permitted to freestyle the recording à la his modus operandi, which means the clip is diarrheic and convoluted to the point of pain and is really just not the sort of thing you want to be audience to before midday and multiple cups of coffee. His penchant for self-sabotage already the stuff of legend, Mr. Trump has sworn to never punch a woman ever again, but his promise inspires something less than rock-solid confidence for reasons that need not be mentioned.
Coverage of the State Dinner-Pelosi Knockout-AOC Chokehold-360º-Trump Toupee-melee has predictably been intense and multifaceted, with the commentariat from both sides of the aisle assigning blame. It goes without saying that the incident has cast a serious pall over what were already fractious relations between party officials. It’s also created what might be conservatively termed a climate of concern among GOP leaders, seeing as there’s an election coming up, and punching women in the face is generally frowned upon by a considerable swath of the electorate.