At approximately 11:37 AM, Eastern Standard Time, on a Tuesday, President Donald Trump bites into a juicy Big Mac, not knowing that this tasty burger will forever alter the course of his life and the life of Americans all over the country. For the next six hours, Trump will not leave his bed, but his mind will charter into unknown territories; much like Columbus when he discovered the Americas, except not as much rape, genocide, disease infestation, etc.
For the first time in American history, the leader of the free world will spend the day tripping fucking balls after ingesting potent, high-grade, liquid LSD, while making a routine stop at a local McDonald’s. (Note: Traces of the LSD were later discovered in the contents of the president’s Big Mac patty.) Although there are no physical wounds, the situation is being treated as if it were a full-blown attack on the president. Investigators believe that terrorists of some sort are behind this sinister plot, possibly North Korea.
To no surprise, the president’s ego puts up quite the fight before it’s completely dissolved and dismantled by the lysergic acid diethylamide. After the metaphysical brawl ensues, President Trump exhales and claims to experience a feeling of “profound interconnectedness and unity with reality.” At which point, in a moment of decisive action, the President of the United States strips down to his bare essentials and engages in the act of streaking across the freshly cut lawn of the White House grass.
Nearly seven hours into the president’s trip, well past the peak, it becomes time for our commander-in-chief to reflect and be introspective, something he’s obviously not accustomed to. The president then proceeds to make some very important calls, something you definitely shouldn’t do while under the influence of this godforsaken drug. First, he calls up the president of Mexico. After a lengthy discussion, it’s been decided that not only will Mexico not be paying for an immigration wall, but there will be no such wall of division between our two counties. As a token of apology, Trump agrees to return several former Mexican territories (claimed by America after the Spanish-American War) back to our neighbors down south, including: New Mexico, Utah, Nevada, Arizona, California, Texas, and parts of western Colorado.
Meanwhile, the president makes another call. The outcome of this conversation results in the dissolution of his highly controversial Muslim refugee ban. From now on, any man, woman, or child may enter the United States of America. Trump then proceeds to appoint several non-English-speaking refugees to key positions amongst the White House staff.
In just one single, solitary night, the president’s priorities, beliefs, and worldviews are reframed and adjusted, more in tune with the outside world. It’s as if Trump received a software update that was long overdue.
It’s now been three days since the mind-altering chemicals had their way with our president’s nervous system, and his approval rating has dramatically risen. In a complete turn of events, Donald Trump is finally appealing to a wide spectrum of human beings, not just the old and decaying farts that he swooned so effortlessly during his campaign. And for the record, he’s only just getting started. Next week, Trump plans on planting over 6,000 sycamore trees in impoverished and low-income neighborhoods. What’s more, he is currently being referred to by the youth movement as “Hippie Trump.”
It’s now Saturday morning. President Trump attends a funeral service honoring and celebrating his beloved ego. Several big name guests are in attendance, including, but not limited to: Happy Days co-star, Scott Baio; Patriots quarterback, Tom Brady; former Mayor of New York City, Rudy Giuliani; musician and potential future U.S senator, Kid Rock; and heavyweight champion of the world, Mike Tyson.
“It’s the largest gathering for a president’s ego-death ever. Seriously, it’s the largest. I swear.”
– White House Official
For the time being, it looks as if this strange trip of sorts was just the thing our country needed to depart this void of stupidity. Finally, we appear to be on our way out of this unholy realm of predestined doom. Now, the question becomes: What awaits us on the other side? Will our humble leader revert back to his not-so-humble behaviors and ideologies of the past? Was this journey only temporary? Or is this the pavement of the future? Perhaps this is just the beginning of a new emerging trend in Washington. Maybe Trump will inspire other politicians to turn on, tune in, and drop out. However, if nothing else prevails, hopefully, at the very least, people will take notice of the wondrous capabilities that these powerful substances posses.
I recently spoke to a local youth and asked him to share his thoughts about the current state of affairs in America. Here’s what he had to say:
“For the first time in a long time, I can honestly admit without waver or hesitation, that I am proud to be an American. All of my friends and family are proud to be Americans, too. It’s weird, I never thought I’d live to see the day where the freaking President of the United States drops acid. Maybe one day, our president will be a pothead. Maybe he’ll do shrooms, or extacy, or even speed. No, maybe not speed; just the good drugs.”
As you can see, even if the elusive Trump does, in fact, revert to his old ways like an old dog who can’t learn new tricks, even if his deceased ego resurrects itself and rises from the ash like a determined messiah on a crusade, at least we will have one thing to cling onto from this psychedelic debacle. At least we will have hope, a rare commodity to come by these days. How long exactly will this fleeting feeling of hope hang around for? More importantly, what should we do with it? The possibilities, I imagine, are both endless and infinite.