America: A Vision
I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night...but then he was replaced by a different dream.
It's Inauguration Day and noon is approaching. Melania Trump, determined not to be upstaged by her stepdaughter for once, has had her silicon implants upgraded from Malibu Barbie to Dolly Parton, but she isn't used to them yet. She stands up, holding the Bible -- a top quality Bible, absolutely the best Bible, believe me. She stumbles on her six-inch heels and the right boob pops out. Hits John Roberts in the temple. Knocks him cold.
Hillary has a very distinctive laugh and it now begins to echo off the marble. She makes no effort to control it. Why should she? The microphones pick it up and carry it all over the Mall. Struggling to get control of her mammary, Melania drops the Bible; Pence picks it up and cradles it like a baby. Paramedics rush to Roberts, while Kellyann Conway jumps loyally in front of FPOTUS. Just then the other boob breaks free with a cartoon "DOI-OI-OING!"
Hillary has slipped off her chair, laughing helplessly. Bill tries to pick her up but he's laughing, too. Bush is trying to hold it in, but a bubble of snot has appeared in one nostril. Laura searches for a tissue, silently blessing the inventor of adult diapers. The Obamas are cool, as always, yet vibrating slightly. They don't dare look at each other, or at Joe Biden, who is having some kind of coughing fit.
With the help of a Marine and some duct tape, Kellyann has corralled FPOTUS inside her dress and coat. Trump, meanwhile, has pulled out his phone and is tweeting something incoherent about Rosie O'Donnell, or Rosie Perez, or Rosie Grier -- anyway, it seems to calm him, like Captain Queeg with his ball bearings. Melania tries to take the Bible back from Pence. They seem to be struggling for it. Apparently there was no time to have it gold-plated, so it was sprayed with the same yellow paint that is applied to Trump's head and is now stuck to the vice-presidential hands. After a minute, she pries it loose.
Roberts is back on his feet but groggy. He begins to administer the Boy Scout Oath. Trump, who has never read any part of the Constitution, parrots it back, punctuated by hiccups from an exhausted Hillary: "On my honor I will do my best [HIC!] to do my duty to God and my country [HIC!]..."
Soon, Trump has been sworn in as a Boy Scout. The leader of the Marine Band, like the commandant of the District of Columbia National Guard and the guy who announces the parade floats, was fired this week. The band tries to strike up "Hail to the Chief" but they sound like Spike Jones and His City Slickers, and after a few bars they give up.
Eight hundred miles away an elderly couple sit in front of the television, wiping tears of laughter from their faces. Jimmy turns to Rosalynn and says, "I told you we should have gone."
It's Inauguration Day and noon is approaching. Melania Trump, determined not to be upstaged by her stepdaughter for once, has had her silicon implants upgraded from Malibu Barbie to Dolly Parton, but she isn't used to them yet. She stands up, holding the Bible -- a top quality Bible, absolutely the best Bible, believe me. She stumbles on her six-inch heels and the right boob pops out. Hits John Roberts in the temple. Knocks him cold.
Hillary has a very distinctive laugh and it now begins to echo off the marble. She makes no effort to control it. Why should she? The microphones pick it up and carry it all over the Mall. Struggling to get control of her mammary, Melania drops the Bible; Pence picks it up and cradles it like a baby. Paramedics rush to Roberts, while Kellyann Conway jumps loyally in front of FPOTUS. Just then the other boob breaks free with a cartoon "DOI-OI-OING!"
Hillary has slipped off her chair, laughing helplessly. Bill tries to pick her up but he's laughing, too. Bush is trying to hold it in, but a bubble of snot has appeared in one nostril. Laura searches for a tissue, silently blessing the inventor of adult diapers. The Obamas are cool, as always, yet vibrating slightly. They don't dare look at each other, or at Joe Biden, who is having some kind of coughing fit.
With the help of a Marine and some duct tape, Kellyann has corralled FPOTUS inside her dress and coat. Trump, meanwhile, has pulled out his phone and is tweeting something incoherent about Rosie O'Donnell, or Rosie Perez, or Rosie Grier -- anyway, it seems to calm him, like Captain Queeg with his ball bearings. Melania tries to take the Bible back from Pence. They seem to be struggling for it. Apparently there was no time to have it gold-plated, so it was sprayed with the same yellow paint that is applied to Trump's head and is now stuck to the vice-presidential hands. After a minute, she pries it loose.
Roberts is back on his feet but groggy. He begins to administer the Boy Scout Oath. Trump, who has never read any part of the Constitution, parrots it back, punctuated by hiccups from an exhausted Hillary: "On my honor I will do my best [HIC!] to do my duty to God and my country [HIC!]..."
Soon, Trump has been sworn in as a Boy Scout. The leader of the Marine Band, like the commandant of the District of Columbia National Guard and the guy who announces the parade floats, was fired this week. The band tries to strike up "Hail to the Chief" but they sound like Spike Jones and His City Slickers, and after a few bars they give up.
Eight hundred miles away an elderly couple sit in front of the television, wiping tears of laughter from their faces. Jimmy turns to Rosalynn and says, "I told you we should have gone."
posted by Buttermilk Sky at 11:07 AM
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