Trump Flunked Reality Therapy Bigly — Not Just a Little Bit
By: Marilyn Flower
Tags: Satire, Mental Health, Election 2020, Humor, Trump

Another Scatalogical Scoop from POOP — Procrastinators Organic Original Publications exclusive:

For someone who hosted a reality TV show for years and years, President Trump, not surprisingly, is having trouble accepting the latest reality that the real world and the real news stations can offer: Joseph Biden, not Donald Trump, won the 2020 Presidential election.

Oops. That wasn’t supposed to happen. After all, in 2016, Trump lost the popular vote and still managed to win the electoral college vote and get himself ensconced in the White House. An abode he once found beneath his standard of opulence, but which he now threatens to not leave, not even after January 20th, 2021.

Could that have something to do with where his next residence may well be, which includes a complimentary wardrobe to match the color of his hair? Which reminds us of a joke:

Knock knock

Who’s there?

Orange

Orange hair? I mean, orange who?

Orange you glad to see Biden win?

Reality Check Therapy to the rescue.

So given all that’s been happening, those closest to Trump signed him up for some Reality Check Therapy — something that should have happened four years ago, or at least back in January when the virus first hit US shores.

If that had happened then, we needed to be there, preferably as a fly on the wall — you know that fly from Mike Pence’s head during the debate? The one purported to be Ruth Ginsberg coming back to make a case in point.

Rumor has it she got herself back to heaven with these famous magic words:

Beam me up, Scotty, there’s no intelligent life in hair — though she might have been saying here. It’s tough to mic a fly with total accuracy. We all have to allow for some modicum of distortion nowadays anyway.

So here’s how that Reality Therapy session might have gone:

Trump: There’s no virus. It’s just a Democratic plot to cost me the election.

Facilitator: Is that true, Donald? Think hard. Hundreds of thousands have already died. Just cause it’s Chinese doesn’t make it unreal.

Trump: China is a fake country.

Facilitator: You don’t have to like China. But it’s a real country. Nixon went there in the 70s, remember? How can it be fake if you eat their food?

Trump: Not anymore. Besides, you never know. They might put bat meat into the sweet and sour pork. You can’t trust those sneaky Asians.

Facilitator: Aha! You admit it then, with your racist, foodist, white supremacist bigotry — if there’s something you can put down — that proves it’s a real thing. Something you can lie about, but now you’ve just made it real. SO DEAL WITH IT before it kills you.

Trump: I had the virus, and it didn’t kill me.

Facilitator: That’s cause you are not human, Donald. You’re an alien taking human form. I’ve suspected all along. No human being could be as heartless as you in responding to this pandem —

Trump: I do so have a heart! Look!

Trump pulled open his shirt, and in addition to the jiggling flesh, the facilitator and other workshop attendees stood by in amazement as his chest swelled, burst open and out popped an alien straight out of the movie Aliens, looking none the worst for wear, thirty-four years having transpired since his/her/its? last film role.

The alien creature thingy would have eaten everyone in the room if the Secret Service hadn’t acted quickly, yelling CUT! CUT! like a movie director and escorting him/her/it? out to his/her/its trailer, and paying him/her/it? outrageous sums of money.

Then the White House staff scooped up Trump’s outerwear, leaving his skid marked undies on the floor for the custodial squad to burn later.

Top Secret Reveal: Shhh! Don’t tell!

They immediately found an actor to play Trump for the remainder of his term of office. So what you’re now seeing, ladies and gentlemen, is a heady two-bit actor enjoying the highest-paid gig of his heretofore inconsequential life, unwilling to give up the goose that laid his golden egg.

Behind closed doors, he’ll be the first to admit that this is quite the scam, but he’s so good, and The Donald is so dead and so much time has passed that no one thought to do anything other than keep calm and carry on.

We at POOP reached out to Melania for comment. Here’s what she said:

Of course, I know that’s not Donald. But our national security was at stake. Once we had one night together, that clinched it for me. This man may be a sorry-ass actor by day, but at night, he knows his way around a woman’s body. So to be satisfied in this manner for the first time in years, who I am to complain?

POOP was concerned about the health and safety of the fly on the wall submitting this report. That’s a lie. We were concerned that The Notorious RBG made it back to heaven safely.

We were assured that, indeed she did. We received this telegram from her:

Back in heaven, safe and sound STOP. Who do you think arranged such a dramatic turn around of the election? STOP. Beelzebub? STOP. P.S. When #45 refused my death bed request, that did it for me. FULL STOP. I called all the angels and went to work, pulling out all the stops. EVEN FULLER STOP!

And there you have it, folks. Stay tuned, because as we all know, where there are flies, there’s bound to be a lot more shit!