The following is some great satire from Alexandra Petri in The Washington Post:There are two realities. There is the reality that Donald Trump would like to be happening, and then there is a lesser, worse reality. In one of them, Trump was arraigned on Thursday on charges of trying to overturn the results of the 2020 election. In the other one, this happened.
Donald Trump walked into the courtroom, head held high. It had taken a long time to reach the courtroom because he had to fight his way through a sea of big, strong men who were all crying like babies because of what was being done to him. All the way through the crowd, their hands had clutched at him while they bawled enormous, manly tears, blubbering “Sir” through the sobs.
“Sir,” the strong men wept. “Sir, we have never seen anything like this witch hunt, where people are trying to charge you with crimes just because you attempted to overturn the election! And we are all judges and lawyers, and one of us is even a fireman!” They held one another and sobbed. Several even tore their garments, though Trump was relieved to see that they had extra garments underneath.
Donald Trump did not cry. Donald Trump was the biggest and strongest one there, and they were all in awe of him. He could hear them saying so. He had the hearing of one of the better-hearing birds. His hearing was so good that he could even hear things that nobody had said.
“We also admire your fingers, sir,” one of the big, strong men was whispering, through his tears. “How long and beautiful they are. It isn’t right that they do this to a man like yourself, sir!"
Donald Trump shook his head sorrowfully. He was not sad for himself. He was sad for the country. The country had been making a lot of mistakes lately, first in 2020, when millions of people had voted incorrectly, and now, when it was trying to make the laws apply to him, even though he had been president once and would be again soon, and for the rest of his life. He missed the days when he got to sit in his beautiful tower and everyone loved him. The building was decorated in impeccable taste: brass everywhere, and sometimes leopard print. It looked as though King Midas had gotten a less expensive curse and had gone around touching everything.
But now, he was in a courtroom. What had life come to, where they would indict a former president, not once but three times, the third time for having conspired to overturn the results of an election? Most presidents were not indicted even once, yet past presidents included Warren G. Harding. It didn’t add up, like certain Trump Organization balance sheets according to the New York attorney general
He sat patiently in the courtroom waiting for his apology. It was bound to come any minute.
Usually an eagle would fly such an apology through the window, but possibly the judge would just deliver it orally.
“Sir,” the judge said. “I would like to apologize on behalf of America. Approach the bench.”
“No,” the bench said, “I will approach him, out of respect.” The bench was anthropomorphic, and it was his friend.
Donald Trump inclined his majestic head to show that he was listening.
“You are not wrong,” the judge continued. “You are Donald Trump, and nothing you do can possibly be wrong.”
“If trying to overturn the results of the 2020 election is a crime,” Donald Trump’s lawyer added, “then Donald Trump did several crimes.” (He always hired the best lawyers, savory characters from the top of the barrel, which you could tell because they all looked as though they were melting and several were listed as co-conspirators in his indictments, where they were quoted saying things like “This seems illegal and I’m saying so in writing.”)
“It’s not,” the judge said, “because obviously the country made a mistake.”
“Thank you,” Donald Trump said.
“Also, when we said that you were lying because you knew that what you were saying was not true, we forgot that you knew better than reality. This is a skill you acquired from your many years in business and real estate. You know which news is real and which is fake, and you know which votes are real and which are fake, even better than the state election officials of, for instance, Arizona and Georgia. We are going to punish them for failing to understand.”
Outside, millions of people cheered. There were millions of people there, not just a couple-dozen-odd folks, and they were all sobbing and bulging with muscle. They smelled like a milkshake.
“It is all right,” Donald Trump said. He waved his large hand magnanimously, and an eagle landed on it, not startling him even a little bit. “Soon, I will be president again and then we will not have to worry about elections anymore.”
“We cannot wait for that to happen,” the judge said, and the crowd cheered. In the time between that statement and the previous statement, they had erected an enormous, beautiful statue of Donald Trump outside that got his fingers just right. “I have made you a hamburger to say how sorry I am, and now I am going to pelt myself with ketchup. And then I am going to go hunt Joe Biden with a series of darts.”
Everyone applauded, and six men rushed up to give Donald Trump the Nobel Peace Prize. Several attractive women handed him their life savings, unprompted. The Constitution politely rewrote itself to avoid giving him further problems, and the legal codes of the states in which he did business quickly followed suit. Vladimir Putin sent a congratulatory telegram, and so did Frederick Douglass.
A high, thin noise broke through the reverie. It was a child, pointing at Donald Trump and laughing. “Donald Trump!” a voice yelled. “Reality exists, and you cannot simply decide that it doesn’t! You can’t lie and incite violence and try to subvert the democratic process! If you are incapable of discerning reality from what exists only in your mind, you’re certainly unfit to serve! Reality exists, no matter how much you would like it not to!”
“No, it doesn’t,” Donald Trump said. “Just watch. You’ll see!"
He closed his eyes and smiled. In there, everyone was cheering.
