Mar-a-Lago Campaign Headquarters

Palm Beach, Florida

Today, FPOTUS (or Florida Man as he is referred to by Murdoch’s rag, “The New York Post"), announced his running mate for 2024 to take back the White House for the GOP. The announcement was made from the Trump Ballroom at his residence in Palm Beach.

"George Santos is the only choice really,” said the ex-inhabitant of the oval office. “The two of us are in sync in every way possible. By the way, Happy Un-Independunce Day Month, even the corrupt, election stealing, coke-snorting party, you know who I’m talking about.”

When asked about Marjorie Taylor Greene, Donald John Trump laughed and said, “No, not Margie from Georgia, nada, nada, nada. My second wife, I think it was, she was from Georgia. Is from, I guess I should say, I think she’s still alive somewhere, you never know. 

Anyway, I love Margie Greene. But remember that TV show? I Love Margie! Not Lucy, Margie! Great show, my little Margie! Gale Storm! What a great name! But George Anthony Devolder Santos, great name too. Better.

"See, George Anthony Devolder Santos. Person, woman, man, camera, TV! See? Great mind. I have a great and stable mind. And again, what a great mind. So, My Anthony! It’s like one of those Rubic’s cube things. This way that way. That way this way. Can be George Santos, can be Anthony Devolder, commonly known as Tony.

But also it can be Anthony Zabrovsky, see? The Jewish thing. Isn’t that great? That was smart thinking. Another great mind, George. Or Anthony. Whatever. Really big for the Jewish vote. So many Jews in New York. Zabrovsky. Can be Jewish. I want them counting my money. But those Black women in New York. And Georgia. Out to get me. And my kids! My kids should be off the table. It’s the biggest scandal in the history of the once great America. Maybe the history of the world. The history of the world! —

THE DONALD OF COURSE—AND THE  JESUS

As everyone knows, the PROUST QUESTIONNAIRE is a set of questions answered by the great French writer, Marcel Proust, and it is often used by modern interviewers.

A similar questionnaire is regularly seen on the back pages of Vanity Fair magazine and is answered by various celebrities.

Most celebrities are out on strike with The Nanny right now or too rich and celebrated to bother with a strike or with our interview, so Aaron Allbright agreed to sit for our questions:

Alice in AmericaLand: It may seem trite, hackneyed, clichéd, and possibly redundant, repetitive, and superfluous—but if you could have brunch with any two persons, alive or dead—who would you choose?

Aaron Allbright: Jesus and Trump!

Alice:  In 2022, there were 2,246 baby boys and 7 baby girls named Jesus. Mostly Jesús. Could you be more specific?

Aaron: I mean Jesus Jesus, as in God Jr.

And Donald Trump. But NOT Jr!

Jesus Jesus and THE Donald.

 Alice: Got it. Thank you. How do you think the brunch would go?

TIME AND SPACE DISOLVED AND IT GOES JUST LIKE THIS:

Waiter: Gentlemen, my name is Ken. Just Ken. And I’m your server today. May I take your order? Or would you like the serve-yourself buffet?

Trump: Serve myself! Ha ha! I’d like to smash you in the face! If anybody will do it, I’ll pay for their lawyer.

Where’s my co-defendant, Walt? Bring me a Coke! —

I don't believe our father ever mentioned the son who was named after him. It was only from our mother that I heard that son talked of, and the only things she told me were the circumstances of his death. In our house there were no pictures of this boy and so in my mind's eye I painted his portrait as best I could. Four years old, light brown hair, large and clear blue eyes, but with an overcast of melancholy, of something already lost. It was the picture of me, of course, taken when I was about the same age my brother had been when he died. I always say my brother, even though I never knew him. He left several years before I was born—

Some of your father's family was over to the house that day. His folks lived in the apartment upstairs and Mrs. Hinton, your grandma Hinton, had everybody just laughing and talking. I don't believe I ever recollect that happening before. She wasn’t one for making folks laugh. I can't rightly say just what on earth we were talking about but it was about the past. About the Quicks who lived down the road from your father years back, before any of us ever moved up to St. Louis after the Depression. Mr. and Mrs. Quick and all their rowdy sons. Not like my boy.

When I was about five, my mother used to dress me up and send me off to Sunday School lessons at the First Baptist Church which was within walking distance of our new brick home on the far edge of the suburbs. She had been raised in strict Baptist churches herself, in the American South, but after my brother was killed, she drifted away from being a church-goer, though I guess she continued to be a believer.

It was in Sunday School that I was introduced to sin, and to the wages of sin which was death—

“My sister married a Canadian and they have lots of Indians up there only they call them Pakistanis.  Do you want my driver’s license number or my car license number here?”

Evelyn poised the leaky ball-point above the registration form and looked through her thick glasses at the dark, young man.

“Your car plates, madam,”  said Mr. Gupta.  “That’s right.  Is it Utah plates?”

“No, California.  I live in California.”  She pushed her grey hair behind her ears.

“India and Pakistan are not the same, madam,”  said Mr. Gupta  softly. 

Evelyn dropped the pen on the counter and just looked at his black eyes.  She held out her hand for the room key.

“I’ve been driving all night,”  she said.

“Yes, madam, you are in number 122. Straight down here and around to the back of the motel. Drive around this way. Those men are working on the other side. You can’t get through that way.”

Evelyn walked out into the dry fire of the desert wind, and the heavy tar fumes sickened her stomach. The workmen looked at her and she looked away. She couldn’t believe a human being could pour asphalt in this desert heat. It must be like Hell. Just like being punished in Hell. But everybody had to earn a living, she thought, that’s true.

And some people earn death, she thought. That’s true, too. Retribution, she knew, was real.