Last week, television viewers watched the relaunch of President Trump. A New Trump, who looked like the Old Trump but didn’t insult anybody. Before stepping behind the podium, Old Trump pressed an imaginary reset button he thought would erase all the bad things he said over the years.
It was obvious that he had perfected his new personae. No hateful rhetoric from the New Trump who stuck to the script and played a role that he executed as flawlessly as the Hollywood counterparts he had lambasted in the past as “overrated.”
New Trump read words off the TelePrompter really, really well without going off script *mostly*. He didn’t demean Mexicans, Muslims or the disabled and even used some of them as props. He spoke about the need for a family leave bill, comprehensive immigration reform *giggle* and passing bipartisan legislation *LMAO*. New Trump didn’t demonize the press or intelligence communities but still managed to zing Obama on the “incredible mess” he left behind. Then, he blamed the generals for the botched raid in Yemen which somehow was Obama’s fault, too.
This Trump didn’t insult women and even magnanimously introduced Melania as the First Lady, who smiled and waved on cue. The audience clapped while waiting for Trump to announce the Second and Third Lady, too.
Disappointment overtook the room when he never did, prompting a negative response from a Frank Lutz Focus Group.
After the applause died and the GOP tired from standing, they fell back into their seats, ready for the TelePrompter to continue spiraling into another episode of the Twilight Zone. Everyone sat with anticipation as New Trump promised to revive a dead coal industry and actor Rod Serling who never popped in from the afterlife to take a bow.
New Trump continued his Academy Award-worthy performance, spewing Ambien words he hoped would calm a jittery electorate, nervous about the Old Trump who constantly loses his shit. New Trump dispelled their concerns as the GOP smiled collectively, pleased by the performance of their reality TV show celebrity, reciting his lines at the podium without a glitch. New Trump enjoyed the attention bestowed on him, emitting a pulsating orange glow.
Clearly, New Trump had convinced a skeptical crowd that he was up to the job of TV President and now had new legions of devoted fans, all of them staring at him with an unwavering focus, never leaving their seats to go to their gender-specific restrooms. His lovely captivated audience wouldn’t dare leave the theater because their ankles had been manacled to their seats.
“No shoe shots,” yelled the director from inside the control room. “Everything needs to look authentic. Like with all fiction projects, it must be grounded in reality.”
This post was originally published on Think Spin.
About the Author
Lauren lives in Connecticut with her husband, son and two mutts. Her essays have appeared in various newspapers as well as in The Huffington Post, ByLine Magazine, Front Porch Syndicate, MomBloggersClub.com, BlazingMinds.co.uk and InspireToThrive.com. Her noir short story “Priming Pamela” was published in Shroud Magazine. Lauren writes humor at her blog Think Spin. Follow her on Twitter, Facebook, and Google +.