Dear President Trump,
During these deeply troubling times, I
am very worried about the health and vigor of our economy. As the leader of the
greatest country on Earth, you obviously share my concern and are determined, either
by hook or by crook, to right this Ship of State and set a course that will
lead to prosperity for all Americans. Even the least of us. I also know that
this insidious virus which is attacking the very foundation of our society has deeply
affected you in a most personal manner. If the reports that I recently read are
actually true and not just another example of fake news put out by the media, you,
Eric, and Don Jr. are being forced to ask Deutsche Bank to delay payments on some
outstanding loans that you took out from them.
First
of all, I’d like to ask you why in the world did you secure a loan from that bank?
Didn’t you know that the bank loaned the Gestapo funds to build Auschwitz? I guess
that wasn’t a concern of yours before you became President, but I think only a
handful of your supporters (you know, the ones wearing the brown shirts and armbands)
would think that was a good move. But that’s beside the point, the point being
that it doesn’t look too good when the leader of our country has to admit that hard
times have befallen his organization and he has to go begging a bank from Deutscheland
to give him a break. And what happens if the deal goes south? I can tell you me,
it’s going to feel like you got Das Boot shoved up your rear end. And to John Q.
Public, you’re going to look a lot weaker than Joe Bidingmytime.
Anyway, I know that all of the hotels
in the world are hurting big time right now and have many vacancies because at
a time like this, who’s thinking of vacations and partying until they drop? Like
me, prospective guests are probably humming Staying Alive, that Bee Gees hit
that you danced to when you were hitting all of the discos and clubs back in
the 70’s. I can only imagine what you’re going through now. So I’ve been racking
my brain thinking of ways that I could help you cross your own bridge over
troubled water and I think I may have just come up with an idea that I’d like
to pitch to you. And because I know you don’t like to spend a lot of time
reading and I think you might be interested in my idea, please have either
Jared or Ivanka read this letter to you, and, like the lyrics in Kind of a Drag,
just “listen to what I’ve gotta say.”
Like
I said, I don’t think it looks too good for a man as rich and powerful as you to
go hat in hand begging for some dough to tide him over. And even though Congress
passed a bill that will give businesses plenty of cash, how’s it going to look
if people see you with your nose in the trough? Now, you can try to hide the
fact that you’re trying to get bailed out, but you know the media. Somebody who
nobody ever heard of will uncover the deal and you know what the fake news
police will do with that piece of info. They’ll scream about the bailout and you
might wind up having to go through another impeachment hoax.
And
even if it doesn’t go that far, they’ll still try to skewer you till you squeal.
But as we all know, you’ll never do that. I mean you deny everything. You denied
that your buddy Vlad helped you get the seat at the head of the table. And you
denied putting the squeeze on the comedian from the Ukraine. But to me, the
best one was your denial of sharing some down time with Stormy, the stripper
and porn star. The bottom line on that one? Her lawyer and your mouthpiece both
wind up doing time, she is now doing her act for pennies in strip joints around
the country, and you walk, free and cleared of any wrongdoing. As they say in
Jersey, Bootiful!
And
now that I think about it, I’m not sure that Stormy should be allowed to continue
performing in those strip joints. Yeah, I know that what she does would be considered
essential by some of those birdbrain governors on TV (I’m thinking Georgia and Florida,
to name a couple), but I don’t think she should be allowed to drag your name
through those mud wrestling contests that you so greatly enjoy. And besides, even
if she has to file for unemployment, I’m sure that many of the John Does waiting
in line at the Labor of Love Department would be glad to fork over a couple of
bucks to get in on her act, if you know what I mean, and I’m sure you do.
But
all of that attention on your supposed misdeeds will add a little more stress
to life at home, and who needs that? I know that Melania’s been all tied up with
her anti-bullying campaign and has been taking a low profile lately. And how
long has it been since you’ve been able to hit the links and drive those balls of
yours down the center of each hole on the course, if you catch my drift. What,
maybe a week? It must be killing you. I think that’s the main reason you’re probably
not stressing the importance of that whole social distancing thing. If you
follow Fauci’s Law, you won’t even be able to get a sniff.
Now I know that some of your so-called
advisors might be suggesting that you go the Chapter 11 route. You know, guys
like Sheldon, Steve, and some of those other Vegas do-gooders. And I know you
are skilled at going down that road, being that all of your casinos went belly
up in Atlantic City. I mean, let’s face it, Nucky Thompson you’re not. But then
again, how’s it going to look if the President and the author of The Art of the
Deal, or was it The Art of the Steal, I can’t remember, has to restructure his
debt. Not exactly uplifting news for those sharks down on Wall Street. They’d eat
you and yours before the final bell and crap you out before posting the next
day’s futures.
Let
me put it to you in another way. Remember that old Canon camera ad where Andre
Agassi said image is everything? Well, I think that’s true, particularly in your
case, and I think it’s really important for you to maintain the image that your
followers have come to know and love, at least until after the election. And speaking
about projecting an image of power and strength, when you do those daily briefings
about the virus, please stop making those weird faces when you’re not at the
lectern. You look like a kid who has ADHD and has no interest in what anybody else
says. You know, man up and try to at least look presidential.
So
much for the philosophizing and hand holding. I mean, all I really want to do is
baby, be friends with you. Nah, just kidding. Cher would probably still like to
belt out that tune but unfortunately for her, Sonny and Greg are nowhere to be
found and I don’t know if there are any available Westworld replacements for them,
the studio having burned down during those fires out in LA. Well, at least you don’t
have to include those bodies in the daily death counts. You know, part of me
thinks the media continually post those numbers in the corner of everybody’s television
so that all of the gamblers who have nothing to bet on can play the over-under
game. For my money, I think they ought to also post the point spreads between
the states and list the odds of covering the spreads. Doing so is sure to increase
ratings and up the ad revenues for the networks.
And
as you probably know, the Breaking News angle just isn’t cutting it anymore. I mean,
how much news can you break in a day? And without you, there probably wouldn’t
be any news at all. Just stories about murders, drug busts, fires, and pile-ups
on Highway 61, the same highway on which Bessie Smith was killed. And who might
Bessie Smith be, you ask? Well, she is generally considered to be one of the greatest
blues singers of all time. But like most of the people in our country, you’ve probably
never listened to any of her recordings. But then again, you might have because
she sang some pretty racy songs, like I’m Wild About That Thing and Empty Bed Blues.
Poor Bessie. Long gone, and mostly forgotten. Sounds like a song for the times
we’re living in.
But
on the brighter side, I’m writing this letter to share my idea with you. It’s an
idea that I think is right up your alley. So here goes. You know how some states
are taking over hotels and converting them into hospitals because of the
shortage of beds for Covid patients. That really makes for a heartwarming story
on the nightly news. Now I wouldn’t expect you to convert any of your properties
into hospitals in an act of noblesse oblige, even though your hotels are not doing
great business these days. That would be overly generous of you and let’s just
say that you don’t exactly have a reputation as being one of the world’s great
philanthropists. I’m thinking Trump Foundation. Need I say more?
No, my idea is for you and your sons
to convert your underperforming properties into Covid 19 Luxury Resorts and Casinos
for infected members of the what you might call the upper class. You know, the
one to ten percenters. As you know, this deadly virus has found its way into boardrooms,
mansions, castles, and country clubs, here and around the world. It seems like
no one is being spared, regardless of their rank or social standing. Now the way
I see it, why would any member who resides in the upper crust want to bed down with
a bunch of the hoi polloi in some makeshift hospital in Central Park or in some
God forsaken football stadium that houses the likes of the New York Jets or
Giants? Gillette Stadium, maybe, but now that your buddy Bob Kraft and Tom Brady
are going their separate ways, I think that’s a losing proposition.
Hey,
speaking about propositions, how’s Bob doing these days? I haven’t seen or
heard much about him since he got caught in that sting operation at some rinky
dink massage parlor. He should have called you first before venturing there. I’m
sure you would have given him the numbers of some girls who know how to give a relaxing
massage without the worry of being booked for soliciting.
And
besides, you think Bob would have learned his lesson after Brady got nabbed for
deflating his balls. I just hope that Gisele wasn’t all in on that deal. It could
have some adverse effects on them if they like playing Texas Hold’em together. Oh
well, I guess some of the rich and famous think they can just keep treating us
all like a bunch of street walkers who sell their wares to the cheapest
bidders. Simply tragic about Bob, though. From champ to chump in the span of a
few weeks.
Well,
there I go again. Opining on the state of affairs, or is it the affairs of the state?
I guess I should leave that to your friends at Fox, you know guys like Bill O’Reilly
and Roger Ailes. Oops, as they say, my bad. I forgot that Roger is now head of
programming at that network down under, and I don’t mean in Rupert’s Australia.
I’m sure that he’s doing one hell of a job. As for Bill, I heard that he was spotted
at the unemployment office, along with his fellow broadcasters Matt and Charlie.
I just hope for their sake that they’re maintaining appropriate social distances
so that their advances can’t be heard by passing strangers.
Again,
these guys made a serious mistake by not calling you before making off putting
remarks and putting their hands where they don’t belong. I mean, you got nailed
on videotape talking locker room trash to Billy Bush and where did that get you?
In the top spot in the country and responsible for hiring some real lookers. Like
Hope Hicks. I wanted to ask you about her. Is it true that her real name is Hope
Hickey and that you made her change it because you thought it might raise
eyebrows around the capital and make people think you were using the desk in
the Oval Office in more creative ways than Bill Clinton? I mean, from what I can
see, there’s never anything on your desk and it could easily be transformed into
a piece of furniture to do the nasty. Well, I guess you would claim “executive privilege”
on that one after talking it over with Bill Barr, so I won’t press you for an answer.
Funny
name, though, for your Attorney General. I wonder, does he have a sister Katy,
as in Katy, bar the door, which is a Southern expression that means watch out, trouble’s
coming. And do you know if anybody calls Bill Willie? Because if they do, you
could scream out, “Say hey Willie, bar the door” when you’re having a bad hair
day.
Anyway, back to my idea. Do you think
anyone living in the lap of luxury wants to isolate themselves from the things that
they love and crave? Just think of it this way. You’re rolling in a little less
dough than you were a few months ago, you’re sick with this awful virus, and
you want to make a speedy recovery in a style that you’re accustomed to. Why
not book an extended stay at a Trump Covid 19 Luxury Resort and Casino?
Now,
take a minute and wrap your head around some of the amenities that could be
offered at one of your Trump resorts. Things like salt water pools with up close
views of the ocean and the butts of some of the world’s most pampered women, swim-up
bars, spa treatments, online shopping at the best of stores, and gourmet meals
prepared by world class and currently unemployed chefs from around the globe
and flown in by airplanes from one of our bailed out airlines. Additional features
could include golf (on regular and miniature styled courses), polo, and bareback
riding (for ladies only).
And
for those who are further on down the road to recovery, you could offer ocean tours
on luxurious yachts. And I’m not talking about three hour tours to Gilligan’s
Island. I’m talking about tours to some of the most pristine and beautiful
beaches in the world, the rolling hills of Scotland, and the green fields of
Ireland. And the best part of the tours is that there are no crowds to deal with
because all of the natives are sequestered in their homes due to the outbreak.
For
those willing to go the extra mile and spend a lot more of their money, you
could also customize excursions on the tours to meet individual tastes. You
could call them Magical Mystery Tours to pique interest. For instance, at your Scottish
resort, you could arrange for a tour of the areas depicted in Braveheart. Why heck,
you could even get Mel Gibson to reenact his favorite scenes from the movie. I’m
sure the audience would just love hearing William Wallace, I mean Mel, scream
out “Freedom” right before he gets the axe. Of course, we would have to make sure
that Mel doesn’t have the opportunity to imbibe any grog before the performance
because he might decide to improvise and do something reckless, like attacking members
of the audience or throwing King Edward I out the window of his castle as he
lay on his deathbed.
By
the way, I thought the role of King Edward I was played masterfully by Patrick
McGoohan in the film. I always liked Pat and really enjoyed him in the short
lived but highly acclaimed series The Prisoner. You know, the show where he played
a captured spy and was always being chased by a big ball and had to repeatedly
emote, in Shakespearian fashion, “I am not a number. I’m a free man.” I bet you
would love to have a set of those balls so that you could confine all of those
whistleblowers (i.e. dirty rats) and bearers of bad news to their cages. Maybe
during the next go round in the budget process, you can seek to add a supplemental
line for your own set of balls. You know, that’s exactly how George W. got the cash
to fund his Don Quixote-like quest for WMD’s in Iraq. And I say, what’s good
for Don Quixote is good for Don Trump. I mean, the both of you have a lot in common.
You both do a lot of tilting at windmills, and I don’t mean the kind that kill all
of those bald eagles in California, as I once heard you say. But getting back
to Pat, I would love to have him reprise the role of the Prisoner as a warm-up
to the Braveheart production, but unfortunately, he exited stage left a number
of years ago and is no longer with us. Too bad.
In
addition, if guests were lucky enough to stay at the Trump Resort in Ireland and
theater was their thing, you could offer soliloquies from Sam Beckett’s Waiting
for Godot and Jimmy Joyce’s Ulysses delivered by some of the finest actors on
the shuttered Irish stages. I’m sure that the audience would greatly appreciate
Lucky’s speech in Waiting for Godot, even though they’ll have no idea what it’s
about. But that’s good old Sam for you. Dark and deep. Did you know that his death
wasn’t announced until after he was buried in Paris? His final wish, so to
speak. Oh, I forgot. You have no interest in the theater and probably thought I
was talking about Boris Becker, the tennis player. Oh well, you’d probably not
much care for Jimmy Joyce’s Ulysses although you might enjoy Molly Bloom’s
soliloquy while she was in bed with her husband Leopold and thinking about things
of an intimate nature, so to speak. And if a guest is not into that highbrow
sort of thing, they can always sit back and enjoy a performance by Celtic Woman.
Some of those Irish lasses could easily lead you into a “stream of
consciousness.”
And
if you booked an extended stay at the Trump resort in Florida, guests could take
advantage of an excursion to Disney World and enjoy attractions such as It’s a
Small World, the Haunted Mansion which could be filled with real bats, and Pirates
of the Caribbean, although I think that ride needs a little updating. How cool would
it be if the 18th Century pirates were replaced by modern day thieves
and scoundrels (I’m thinking Jeff Bezos, Mark Zuckerberg, Jamie Dimon, the entire
Walton family, and maybe even Steve the Munchkin Mnuchin, who also doubles as
the Secretary of the Treasury). And no trip to Florida would be complete without
excursions to the alligator-filled Everglades and Fort Lauderdale’s harbors where
some of the world’s biggest cruise ships are temporarily docked and being decontaminated.
And
I bet the guests would really like to board the Celebrity cruise ship that was
used in the commercial that featured the singing of White Rabbit by Grace Slick
of the Jefferson Airplane. I thought the use of that song with its references to
drugs was an odd advertising ploy. But then again, maybe Celebrity was trying
to equate a cruise with a “trip” that was out of this world. And to some of the
passengers on the competing Princess line, I am sure it was. Right into the next
one.
And
you could provide the guests on the Celebrity ship with “tastings” of some exotic
drugs to enhance the trip and then pipe in an updated version of White Rabbit that
was sung by Grace and contained the following lyrics:
One
pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small
And
the ones that the President gives you, don’t do anything at all
Go
ask Fauci, when he’s ten feet tall
And
if you go buying fake cures, and you know you’re going to fall
Tell
‘em a hot headed hotelier has given you the call
And
call Fauci, when he was just small
When
the men at the lectern get up and tell you where to go
And
you’ve just had some hydroxychloroquine, and your mind is moving low
Go
ask Fauci, I think he’ll know
When
the captain and the passengers have fallen sloppy dead
And
the President is talking backwards
And
the first lady’s off with her head
Remember
what General Surgeon said
Stop
the spread
Stop
the spread
Would
the guests be freaked out, or what? And who said Timothy Leary was dead?
And
speaking about Tony, I read that you are thinking about canning him. Did you take
some of those drugs on the Celebrity cruise ship or are you just out of your
mind? If you give him the axe, you are making a huge mistake. Like Napolean
invading Russia or Saddam Hussein taking over the oil fields in Kuwait. Or Amelia
Earhart trying to fly around the world. I mean, people really trust Tony and are
banking on him to save us all. And he may be short, but I bet he packs a punch that
could knock you into next week if you mess with him. So I would seriously reconsider
that idea of yours.
But
getting back to those excursions, for those one to ten percenters out in the Los
Angeles resort, they might like to take a trip to Bob Dylan’s home in Malibu and
ask him to sing a few bars of Lay, Lady, Lay, you know the song about him and his
big brass bed. I’m sure that you can relate to those lyrics. But Bob would probably
tell them to take their boots of Spanish leather and go for an extended walk along
the watchtower. And even if he agreed to sing the song, he’d probably sing a
new rendition of it so that they wouldn’t recognize it. What a joker and a thief!
And
what I think would really be a big draw on the excursion would be window
shopping at some of those ritzy stores on Rodeo Drive. I am sure looking at empty
displays would bring back a lot of The Way We Were kind of memories. But of course,
the highlight of the excursion would be tours of the Hollywood backlots, places
where many of the guests made their fortunes. Maybe you could even get some A-listers
to reprise some of their favorite roles. For instance, can you imagine how awesome
it would be to see Marty and Charlie Sheen do that scene at the end of Apocalypse
Now? Of course, Marty would have to do a stand in for Marlon since Stanley, I
mean Marlon, went in on a time share with Colonel Kurtz a while ago. And Charlie
could draw on his experience in Platoon and Anger Management to help Captain
Willard bring down the curtain on Colonel Kurtz. Oh, the horror!
And
for those recovering guests who are not ready for excursions or some of the more
strenuous activities at your resorts, online business courses could be offered by
professors from the now defunct Trump University. Skyped workshops could be also
be provided by some of your currently employed Cabinet members who have real expertise
in their fields, people like Larry Kudlow, Ben Carson, Betsy DeVos, and Wilbur Ross.
Topics for the workshops could include How to Short Stocks in a Bear Market,
How to Gentrify Public Housing Projects, How to Take Advantage of the Online Learning
Craze, and How to Acquire and Restructure Failing Businesses. So timely during
the current crisis, and probably so well received by the high heeled and almost
healed guests in your resorts.
And
as for the casinos, you could offer the usual array of table games so that the
high rollers, and I mean high from all the drugs that got pumped into them
through their IV’s, would willingly hand over their money to the blackjack and poker
dealers, the guys spinning the roulette wheels, and the pit bosses at the craps
tables. The fact that those guys would be wearing masks would heighten the drama
but at least everyone would know, right from the get go, that they were going
to get robbed.
And
since you couldn’t offer sports betting because there’s no sports to bet on, I
came up with a virtual reality game called Russian Roulette that would be
broadcast on a big high-def screen in the casino. The game would be played just
like the real game and would involve you and four of your best friends taking turns
firing a gun that had a bullet in one of its chambers and trying to avoid
blowing either your or their brains out. I chose Vlad, MBS, Kim, and Jair because
most people would like to see their reigns end with their brains splattered all
over the place. But you could easily change the players based upon yours or the
guests’ preferences. Knowing you, the players would probably be Nancy, Jim,
Adam, and Bob. Maybe even Jeff, Barack, or Johnny Mac but I think he would be a
bad choice because he already departed the scene and most people would like to remember
him as a war hero with his brains intact.
You
probably noticed that I left one seat open at the table. I would like to fill that
seat with a virtual Christopher Walken because he’s one of my personal favorites
and he played the game like a champion in The Deer Hunter. And besides, the
game is set in Saigon during the Viet Nam War, a war you missed because of those
painful bone spurs of yours. And the guests in the casino would play the role
of the onlookers in the movie and scream and bet on the players as they took turns
pointing the gun at their heads and firing. Sounds exciting, doesn’t it?
And another game that I think would be
a big hit in the casino is a live version of the show Shark Tank. We could skype
in Lori, Mark, Kevin, Robert, Barbara, and Daymond from their gazillion dollar
digs and display them on the hi-def screen in the casino. We could then recruit
the guests to play the game and work in teams to create products that are made for
these times (like reusable toilet paper, electrical devices that shock people
who get closer to you than six feet, and gizmos that continually sanitize your
clothes while you’re wearing them). The teams would then make presentations to
the sharks and attempt to extract as much money from them as possible. I think your
guests would love to play the game in order to recoup money they lost in the
stock market and increase the size of their portfolios. I know that’s important
to you, too. And I think the game could replace the currently running show which
is increasingly irrelevant and shown repeatedly in re-runs. Think of the cash
that can be made from the show if you can make a deal with a network for
national syndication!
And
finally, I think there’s a mint to be made in the casino by broadcasting, live to
the nation, a revamped version of the Apprentice, the baby that made you who you
are today. Can you imagine the interest and the ratings of a show that has recovering
Covid patients teaming up to come up with ad campaigns, corporate schemes, and
ways to solve some of the problems facing our elite guests (like how to ditch
AOC and the Green New Deal, how to prevent the minimum wage from becoming a living
wage, and how to stop Morrison’s Spanish Caravan from overrunning their estates).
I’d
like to offer you an aside on Jim, who was a pretty good poet as well as a great
singer. You probably don’t know that some
of his songs contain abstruse phrases that are hard to decipher. Take, for instance,
the last lines in the Soft Parade:
When
all else fails
We
can whip the horse’s eyes
And
make them sleep
And
cry
Say
what, say you? Turns out, the lines were a reference to a supposed experience
of Friedrich Nietzsche, the existential philosopher whom I doubt you ever heard
of. But the lines do cause a listener to pause and think. And they did make for
a dramatic ending to the song. And if you substitute “I can tweet nasty things
about those who oppose me” for “We can whip the horse’s eyes,” that pretty much
sums you up, both as a person and a President. So you just might want to soften
your stride as you parade on by. Jim might like that. Who knows?
Anyway,
getting back to the Apprentice. Just to hear you, our head of state, the CEO of
the biggest corporation on Earth, so clearly and cooly declare, “You’re fired!”
would, without a doubt, warm the hearts of your supporters and scare the hell out
of all your current Cabinet members and administrative staff. I mean, they do
know that all of their jobs are temporary, at best. And the fact that the winner
of the game would be given the Cabinet position of his/her choice would surely
add to the suspense for the entire nation. Can you imagine the ratings on the
night the winner was announced and the Cabinet position chosen? I can just see Kellyanne
doing a Faye Dunaway in that scene from Network when she hears that people all
over the country are screaming out their windows, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going
to take it anymore.” Like Faye, I can picture Kellyanne throwing her phone into
the air and screeching, “We’ve hit the mother lode.” What a ratings bonanza!
And
what would a casino be without live entertainment? So I’ve been looking around
and I think I found a couple of acts. The first group calls themselves The
Central Park Five and is kind of like a tribute band, a tribute to you and your
desire to execute those five kids for the rape of that jogger in Central Park a
long time ago. As you know, you didn’t get your wish, but they all did some hard
time. It must have felt weird for you when they were cleared by a DNA test. Anyway,
I heard that they have no hard feelings about the ordeal they were put through.
I mean why would they? They sued the city and pocketed millions of bucks. That’s
a hell of a lot more than they would have made slinging burgers at Mickey D’s. Anyway,
the group does a lot of Motown classics and soul music. Now I don’t know if you’re
a fan of Motown or not, but I bet it’ll get your motor running when you start
singing along to the following lyrics from one of their songs, and that is Reach
Out I’ll Be There by the Four Tops:
Now
if you feel that you can’t go on
Because
all of your hope is gone
And
your life is filled with so much confusion
Until
happiness is just an illusion
And
your world around is crumblin’ down
Darling,
reach out, come on girl, reach on out for me
Reach
out, reach out for me.
Timely,
to say the least. Except that now, I think they’ll need to add a couple of lines
at the end, something like
But
please stay six feet away from me
Or
I’ll find myself six feet under you.
In
keeping with the crime and punishment theme, you can also book a Police tribute
band that can belt out numbers like Don’t Stand So Close to Me and Every Breath
You Take. And the Clash tribute band could get the gamblers in the mood for shelling
out big bucks while listening to Clampdown and Should I Stay or Should I Go? And
how great would it be to have Marla Maples team up with Mavis Staples to sing
classics like Respect Yourself? Staples and Maples or Maples and Staples? I like
the latter name even though I know Mavis should get top billing. I also know that
Marla doesn’t have much of voice, but she was in the Broadway musical The Will
Rogers Follies and appeared on Dancing with the Stars. Not exactly a stellar
career, but where would she be without you? And you know, I would be willing to
bet that her turn toward spirituality after your breakup was her way of giving
thanks to the Almighty.
But
to turn the casino into a cash cow that just keeps on giving, you are going to
have to find a way to milk the general public. I mean, those uppity types who actually
book a stay at your resort pretty much live by the phrase from the King James Bible,
which says, “A fool and his money are soon parted.” I mean they may fork over a
dollar here and a dollar there, but they tend to squeeze their wallets tighter
than you did to Stormy or the guy on the other end of the perfect call. No, you
need to tap the resources of the majority of Americans, you know, the ones who buy
into the dollar and a dream and the you’ve got to be in it to win it hype. So,
like all of the experts say, that’s why testing is so important. At all costs, you
need to keep the infected players out of the casinos so that you don’t run
short of cashiers, cooks, matrons, security guards, and all of the other
essential workers. So, please push hard to find a test that produces immediate
results. Ideally, you could have everyone swabbed when they pull up to park
their cars. Then by the time they get to the front door, you’ll have the results
for them. Clean in, infected out. Plus, you could give the winners some free play
and provide the losers with the locations of the nearest walk-in clinic and fleabag
motel where they can quarantine themselves until they’re all better and can pass
your entrance exam.
And
just think of the money to be made off those who are unemployed, deprived, and
economically disadvantaged. You and I know that as soon as they get those
checks from My Rich Uncle Sam, that dough is going right back into your slot
machines. The heck with food and rent, this is a crisis we’re all living
through and the only way not to lose your mind is by taking chances on losing
whatever cash that you have in hand. And please, whatever you do, and it doesn’t
look like much, make sure to continue issuing as many monthly checks as
possible to those poor souls who have lost so much, both at home and in your
casinos. Without their contributions, you’re sure to see a downturn in your operation.
So just to recap, get Jerry Powell to print billions of bucks, give almost everybody
a piece of the pie, and then let the healthy ones give it right back to you in
the casino. And don’t forget that the infected ones are just waiting in line to
do what they can do to help you out sometime in the future. And if you execute
the plan correctly, you come out looking like a cross between Robin Hood and
Mother Theresa. Definitely, the art of the steal.
Now
getting back to the suffering guests at a Trump Covid 19 Luxury Resort and Casino,
you could offer the more seriously afflicted individuals who were in need of
care by highly trained and compassionate workers one of the most attractive features
of the resorts. It would be a challenge but I think you are up to it. You could
begin a nationwide search for health care workers who were infected but now
fully recovered. The word on the street is that the brainiacs in the scientific
community are working on ways to find those people. If they can find them, you
can hire them. And because they are now immune to the deadly virus, they would
have no need for gowns, masks, and PPE that could scare the bejesus out of the bravest
of your guests.
Think
of it this way. If you were sick, would you want to be cared for by workers who
were decked out in garb that looked like it was made for astronauts or would
you rather be catered to by people who were dressed as butlers or maids right out
of Downton Abbey? Wouldn’t it be simply smashing to be addressed as my lady or
my lord as you lay sick in bed? And if English wasn’t their cup of tea, you could
dress the workers in costumes from the Bunuel film The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie
and train them to make absurd responses to questions from their patients. The
surrealism of the interactions might alter the guests’ views of their status in
life, but I tend to doubt it. As Luis might say, you can lead a horse to water,
but you can’t make him say the rosary while standing on his head.
But until our scientists figure out
which workers are immune to the virus, they’ll have to keep using the astronaut
costumes. And by the way, I’d like to know why you are constantly being bombarded
with the complaint about there being a shortage of masks for our health care workers?
I’ve heard it through the grapevine that there is company in Berkeley that has the
ability to mass produce thousands of masks at the drop of a hat. The CEO’s of
the company are diehards from the Weather Underground and Symbionese Liberation
Army who are pretending to be capitalists and trying to make money by producing
and marketing a product for the masses. So they a got a patent on face masks, but
they’re not like the N95’s made in China. Their masks are perfectly safe
because they cover the wearer’s entire face and are made of plastic.
The
masks do, however, have one drawback that could make them a hard sell. The
drawback is that the face of Guy Fawkes is on every one of the them. You know
the mask if you saw the movie V for Vendetta. You see, Guy was one of the guys
who tried, but failed, to blow up England’s House of Lords in 1605. So it’s not
exactly the face you’d like to see the first thing in the morning if you’re sick
and tired of being singled out for having an overabundance of cash. Plus, the
masks are packaged in boxes of a thousand and there are specific instructions that
wearers should huddle together when wearing them in order to scare rich folks to
death. No social distancing if you happen to be a soldier in Guy’s army!
Also
included with the masks are specific instructions on how to blow up symbols of
wealth in our country, things like the Wall Street bull, the Bellagio fountains,
and all of the Maseratis and Rolls Royces in Beverly Hills. So, I don’t know if
the product would be a hit with your guests, but I’m sure that the workers of
the world would say to give it a shot.
And
for those rich souls who are in really critical condition and unlikely to make
it, it would be only the best for the best. Brand new, state of the art ventilators,
taken right from the stockpile in Say Hey Willie, bar the door to the basement where
they’re stashed. Probably right next to the love letters from Rudy and the boxes
of incriminating evidence that was never shared with the Democrats during your
impeachment trial.
And
should those very few members of the ruling class move on to meet their maker, you
could offer family members gold plated coffins and the opportunity of holding services
presided over by some of the biggest televangelists in the country. Of course,
the preachers would have to be enclosed in hermetically sealed booths to protect
them and prevent any hot air from escaping. They are all available at the
present time because their megachurches are closed due to the virus. I know that
they are interested because their revenues are way down and they are all
parroting the party line, saying that the crisis is the work of Satan in the hope
that using his name will increase their online donations. For the life of me, I
don’t know why when things go bad, so many preachers resort to blaming him. Poor
guy, I’m sure that by now he must have realized he made a huge mistake by trying
to muscle in on the big guy’s turf. I say, show the devil a little sympathy and
maybe he’ll turn over a new leaf.
And
besides, those televangelists always have that steady stream of income from the
regulars who tithe, even though the cash that comes in when they pass the plate
is substantial and very hard to track by the IRS. Now tithing, that’s an interesting
investment strategy. It’s like a whole life and death policy rolled into one. And
it’s a good way to hedge your bets on the afterlife. Small payments now, big payoff
at the end.
Oh,
by the way, I forgot to mention crowd size at the funerals. I know that’s a topic
that is near and dear to that big heart of yours. No problem there. You can
contract that job out to any CGI company. They’re all dying for work (no pun intended)
and I’m sure you can have the company that you choose customize the look and size
of the crowd so that friends and family who are not able to attend because of the
virus can marvel at some of the celebrities in attendance. Why, you can include
royalty, movie stars, and even yourself. You can also include people who are no
longer with us in the audience, maybe people like Gandhi, Moses, and St. Francis
of Assisi. Just like the cover of the Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
album.
Copies
can then be made and sold to friends and family so that they have a keepsake of
the ceremony. I do think it would be wise to have the guests fill out a
questionnaire about who they would like to attend such a ceremony when they register
just in case they don’t get the chance to check out in the usual manner. Like I
always say, we all want to go out in style. And in a Trump Covid 19 Luxury Resort
and Casino, the last wishes for those unfortunate few will be your command.
And
finally, what do many of the elites want to do more than anything? If you said
rub elbows with celebrities and heads of state, you would be correct. So why
not grant them their wish and have them do meet and greets with celebs who are
fellow sufferers, people like Boris Johnson, Rand Paul, and maybe even Prince
Charles. I am sure that those famous folks would like to recover within the confines
of your resorts and would be happy to share war stories with members of the uppity
class.
Now
that Boris is out of the hospital, I am sure that he would prefer the amenities
of an exclusive Trump resort over those offered in 10 Downing Street. On top of
all the stress associated with the virus, he has had to deal with the turmoil that
goes along with Brexit. And I do mean turmoil. Enough turmoil to take one’s
breath away, even before one felt more than a bit under the weather after contracting
the virus. And according to some polls, almost half the country was not opposed
to Boris’ brexiting the planet. Poor chap. Maybe if he changed his hairstyle, he
could increase his poll numbers. And in one of your resorts, he could get the
do of a lifetime.
Rand,
on the other hand, has a reputation for being difficult and hard to get along with.
He might be as opposed to the idea of story time at your resort as he is to just
about everything that comes his way in the Senate. Some say that this opposition
stems from his libertarian views on the role of government in our lives, but I
think it goes much deeper than that. I don’t know if you are aware that Rand was
named after Ayn Rand, the author and philosopher who Rand’s father Ron adores. Ayn
came up with a lot of theories related to rational self-interest and a bunch of
other mumbo jumbo about the individual and society. Her theories have mostly
been discarded but Rand still seems to buy into them.
Well,
my theory is that the reason Rand is such a pain in the behind is because he resents
being named Rand. I mean, how many Rands do you know? Only one, which goes
right along with Ayn’s philosophy. And can you imagine how difficult it’s been
going through life with a name like Rand? I mean, how many times do you think he
has been called Paul Rand? And how many times do you think he has had to correct
people who call him by the wrong name and explain where his first name came
from. And when he was growing up, kids, being kids, might have made fun of him
by calling him names like Canned Ham Rand, Land Ho Rand, and Grand Old Rand. And
even when he got caught red-handed swimming in the Senate pool while he was sick,
he didn’t even try to make people understand why he needed to take a dip. But,
if by some chance, he agrees to come to your resort, don’t expect Rand to shake
hands with the guests. He might be willing
to take some selfies with them and do some grandstanding, though.
And
while I’m talking about Paul, I mean Rand, I feel that something needs to be
said about Mitch McConnell, the other Senator who represents the state of
Kentucky. Now as far as I know, Mitch has not yet come down with a case of the
virus, probably because he is so masterful at social and class distancing. It’s
almost like he invented the term distancing. And as for many of the Democrats
in the Senate, they would probably like to further increase the distance between
Mitch and themselves and might even offer to pick up the tab for his stay at
one of your resorts. I mean, it’s gotten so bad that when Mitch makes one of
his speeches in the Senate Chamber and blames the Democrats for everything,
they send a group text to each other which says Hey, Hey, he ain’t no Henry
Clay, who, if you recall, that is, if you ever knew, was the Kentucky Senator
who played a key role in the passage of the Missouri Compromise and the
Compromise of 1850. And compromise is not the word that comes to mind when a
lot of people think of Mitch.
So,
there you have it. Mitch and Rand. And, if by chance, you exchange the first letter
in their names and combine them, the name that would roll off your licking good
tongue, if you said it aloud, would be Rich Man. No mention of Poor Man, as it
should be in My Old Kentucky Home, with all of those thoroughbreds, mint juleps,
and fancy hats on the heads of those oh so sophisticated Southern ladies.
And
finally, wouldn’t it be simply smashing to have Prince Charles, the future King
of England, check into one of your resorts for an extended stay? A real get, as
the common folk might say. I’m sure the guests would be thrilled to hear how he
battled the virus in Balmoral Castle, which is in Scotland, a great deal further
than a stone’s throw from Buckingham Palace, home to the Queen. Talk about
social distancing. He and Camilla both chose to self-isolate but the British
tabloids claimed that the story was a cover-up because the couple, like so many
in the Royal Family, are going through a rough patch in their marriage. But such
is the fate of the many heirs to the British throne, a throne coveted by so
many, but ascended to by so few.
And
in Charles’ case, his fate is particularly cruel, for he has been the heir
apparent for seventy-one years, a record that he would prefer not to hold. And
with the Queen’s track record, he may never have the opportunity of being
addressed as Your Majesty. A Shakespearean tragedy, for certain. But maybe with
some prodding, his highness to be would be willing to deliver some of the more
memorable quotes from Hamlet to the most privileged guests and yourself. Lines like,
“Neither
a borrower nor a lender be”
“Though
this be madness, yet there is method in’t”
“The
lady doth protest too much, methinks”
“I
must be cruel only to be kind”
“How
all occasions do inform against me, and spur my dull revenge”
“That
one may smile and smile and be a villain”
“To
sleep, perchance to dream, ay, there’s the rub”
Can
you imagine the passion he would deliver those lines with? No, eh. Well,
neither can anyone else who has ever met the Prince. But still, having the
future King of England in your resort would mean a great deal to the privileged
few who have the opportunity of meeting him. And by the way, if your buddy Bob
Kraft ever decides to open up a massage parlor as a way of demonstrating his
commitment to community service, I think that last quote should be made into a
sign and placed over the door to the establishment.
And
so doth ends the pitch and the plan. Do with them as you see fit. But remember,
there is much to be gained, and little to lose, if you so choose to adhere to
the pitch and follow the plan. First, and foremost, you will henceforth be
known as Donald the Magnificent, a man of generous spirit, a man willing to relinquish
his holdings for the benefit of others. Second, those of wealth and privilege
will be cared for in a manner that they both deserve and desire. And last, the
least among us will be treated, not as commoners without a pillow to rest their
weary heads upon, but as citizens who can finally breathe a sigh of relief.
Sincerely,
Your Average Joe
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