In the same vein as #1,384 (translation - if you didn't like that one you probably won't like this one)
Good morning! Donald Trump held court in what’s left of the Rose Garden last night, a ceremony he dubbed the inaugural meeting of the “Rose Garden Club.” The roses, he reassured us, were untouched, “in full bloom and they will be in full bloom during certain seasons”, as if the country needed a botanical State of the Union. The grass, though, was apparently a national emergency: “Every time we’d have a press conference, women in particular were sinking deep into the mud.” So, at taxpayer expense, the turf was replaced with stone. Call it the Augusta National approach to governance: re-grass America and the rest will sort itself out.
The evening spun into something between a loyalty banquet and a stand-up routine nobody asked for. Trump lavished praise on Mike Johnson, the “great speaker of our time or any other time,” and reminisced about those long nights when he had to call “Jim” and a dozen other “hard-nos” at 4 a.m. to twist arms. The lucky guests tonight, however, were the chosen ones, the lawmakers who never made him pick up the phone. In Trump’s telling, this was their reward: a steak dinner under the fairy lights, serenaded by the sound of a safe Washington, where women are now “walking by themselves alone, and they feel totally safe.” He even insisted crime in D.C. had been reduced by 87%, “Really? Who are the 13%?”, suggesting the remaining criminals had either been vaporized or relocated to Portland.
And just to gild the lily, he added a folksy homily about turf management: “Grass has a life like we have a life. It expired about 40 years ago in these parks.” As if America’s greatest threat were not economic collapse or foreign war, but geriatric sod in Lafayette Square. The crowd was also treated to the soundtrack of ....
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