Once there was a DahMockatree. And she loved all Americans and all things American including a certain boy. Every day the boy would come and gather her federal subsidies like his father had before him in order to fund his real estate projects. He would gather her tax abatements and tax credits. And any form of government largesse he could. He would make them into a crown and host Celebrity Apprentice and play emperor of New York. And when he was tired of his debts, he would go bankrupt – which he did six times although he claimed it was only four.
And the boy loved the DahMockatree very much. And the DahMockatree was happy. Time went by. The boy grew up. He trademarked “Make America Great again” in 2012. He left the tree alone. More time went by. It was 2016. That’s when the boy came to the DahMockatree again and she said, “Come boy and gather my tax abatements, collect tax credits, build another Taj Mahal, and go bankrupt and be happy.”
“I am too big to gather and collect,” said the boy. “And everybody is bored with reality TV. I want to run the entire country using the slogan I trademarked, ‘Make America Great Again.’ Can you help me with that? Can you help me be president?”
“Well,” said the tree, “I don’t know if the political climate is right. I have only racist, unenthusiastic voter blocks, unemployment in key states like Pennsylvania, Russian-election tampering, the ideology of shame, xenophobia, a rural, isolated Midwest that hates diversity, Reagan democrats, ignored, older white men, and third party candidates who force people to waste their votes. Can you do something with that?”
“Every little bit helps,” the boy said. “What else do you got?”
“What about out of touch college educated American voting bloc, the desire for a referendum to the ruling class in Washington D.C., the belief in corrupt political apparatus, desire for revenge on the political elite, and an e-mail scandal involving the other candidate which will make everyone think she is corrupt. Take it all and use it. Then you can be president and you can be happy.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” the boy said.
And so the boy cut down all the branches, for that was where the things the tree spoke about were, and carried them away along with the election. And the DahMockatree was happy. But the boy stayed away for a long time. And when he came back the DahMockatree was soo happy. “Come boy,” she said. “Come take a tax subsidy. Come and steal an election.”
“I’m too important for that,” he said.
“Come and hide your tax returns behind my trunk,” she said.
“Nobody audits the president of America, so I’m good there. Now I want to stop immigration and a woman’s right to choose, and make everyone say Merry Christmas, and impose tariffs on Chinese and Mexican products, and stop Obama Care, and NAFTA, and renegotiate with Iran, and cut taxes and take the oil from ISIS. Did I say make people say Merry Christmas?”
“It all sounds a little vague.”
“Don’t worry, said the boy, “Americans like it when presidents stump with vague promises and continue to be vague during their terms in office. Can you help me?”
“OK,” said the DahMockatree. “Cut down my trunk, for that is the way you will be able to by-pass all the rules of law and destabilize America. You can expect increased corruption, disdain for formal institutions and attacks on the media and on free information. And then you can be happy.”
And so the boy cut down her trunk and all the things the DahMockatree said would happen, did. And the DahMockatree was happy. By that I mean she was super grumpy because she didn’t like being a stump.
When the boy came back, a long time later, the DahMockatree was on her last nerve.
“What are you sniffing around here for?,” she said. “You done drained this DahMockatree dry. Go on away from here and play with your boy Putin. I got nothing.”
“I don’t need very much now,” said the boy. “Turns out that I AM the anti-Christ; I am like a cancer in the bloodstream of this country. You know, like everyone has been saying. But this is what comes of not knowing your medical history. My mother should have told me. I turned America into a wasteland. I just need a quiet place to sit and rest. The constant radioactivity and bombing everywhere I look makes me tired.”
“Don’t think you’re going to be putting your nasty butt on me, Son,” the DahMockatree said. “You’re just going to have to stand there and be tired. And look at what you’ve done to me and to the whole country. And be ashamed.”
And the boy did.
And the tree was happy, but only in that grumpy way I described before.
And America’s greatness was questionable.