The President’s Brain Is Still Missing
The other day this space was reflecting on the state of mental acuity in the White House. In explaining the inexplicable about the bizarre behavior of our commander in chief (“The Trumponicles—Episode three”), I had advanced the theory that something was amiss with the Leader of the Free World (LFW).
I think Ray Bolger as the Scarecrow said it best:
I could while away the hours Conferring with the flowers If I only had a brain.
In defense of the president, who seemed to have a vacancy in an upstairs apartment, was not the sharpest knife in the drawer, was not playing with a full deck, and other euphemisms, the transmission asked if the president’s brain was missing?
As it was theorized, every morning on his way to his Twitter account, his brain mysteriously flew out a window in the White House, circled around the Washington Monument and was last seen heading towards Moscow.
Sources say it is currently on exhibit in the Hall of Heroes, along with Khrushchev’s other shoe that he banged on the rostrum at the UN, Stalin’s mustache and the ice pick that settled the doctrinal dispute between Trotsky and Lenin in Mexico City.
The president’s missing brain, sources say, is enclosed in a glass case, along side an exhibit of the Commissar’s New Clothes and the original Marxist dialectic “From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.” (As amended, the dialectic now reads “Each according to his need, each according to his greed” and is the keystone of the Putin-Trumpskaya Admiration Society.)
The long lines of Politburo leaders, oligarchs of the crypto-Capitalist wing, and ordinary peasants in the street paying homage to the man who was known as the Muscovite Candidate in 2016 election have been getting longer ever since the LFW helped engineer the three day closing down of the government, a sign that capitalism is withering away, as predicted by Karl Marx and others of that ilk since 1875. It proved the vulnerability of your leading foe in the fight for world domination, something worth dancing in the streets about last weekend.
The performance of the First Scarecrow in the run up to the shut down is further evidence the president’s brain is still missing.
A master of the art of deal making, a legend in his own mind, he didn’t seem to know what he wanted in the negotiations. He couldn’t remember agreements made with the enemy. As Slippery Schumer said, it was like negotiating with a plate of Jell-O.
In his depleted state, what that business was all about last weekend was the corrupt Democrats’ attempt to ruin his golfing trip to Mar-a- Lago.
Well, I was wrong about all of the above. Apparently, I am guilty of spreading fake news. Fake news artists have misled me. My usually reliably informed source has recanted. There was no collusion. No obstruction of justice.
There is another more credible theory as a way of explaining the inexplicable.
Here is the way it really went down:
Trump’s brain was stolen by aliens from outer space many years ago, the alien-in-chief telling him “Someday my son you will be president. Mark my words.”
The question now:
Were the aliens deported?
Yes, my source confirms. Sent back to Ursa Major, their hometown.
I apologize for the error.
And if my usually reliably informed source is wrong about this clarification, he will be demoted to an unreliably informed source, or even worse, a usually unreliably uniformed source.
Jan. 25, 2018