“Only Donald J. Trump knows monetization like no one else…”
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Before you hunt me down on this my weird claim, that the man, Donald J. Trump, is, no matter how you slice and dice this soggy dough on a cold, plastic platter…a demi-god, please hear me out. If you don’t know this, know it now; the man is laced with that unique, repulsive amalgam of, at least, one-week-old, backed-up human feces, and a sprinkling of skunk juice branded as Shinola, as he is spread-eagled, propped against a circular board rolling at the speed of light, to cause the rest of us throwing darts at him to miss. You see, no one could nail him. He wears that Teflon Don’s coat very well, and the darts are bouncing off him.z
Maybe, the eighty million tiny, half-inch pliant nuisance coming at him are designed poorly…and those of us swinging and hauling little, shotgun spittle, standing inches away from this barn door, are terrible marksmen and women; we may demand Winchester-designed dart haulers to change our luck if we will ever hit the mark. To this day, no one among us has hollered bullseye to celebrate a hit! Eight years and counting, and the few darts landing on him roll off with nary a shrug.
Like a man walking the desert plains with an empty canteen, he is thirsty
I wonder what this man eats for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You should begin to wonder like I do if he goes to bed with the goddesses of Hades, especially those of them with the long and short-fanged maws; they’d screw silly, and then load him up at dawn. And when dusk looms and he is running on empty, he would be under a barrage of otherworldly incendiary bombs that set his rear end ablaze with out-of-rhythm macabre dance. Like a man walking the desert plains with an empty canteen, he is thirsty, and the only refill outpost, the Hellion Oasis, is two lightyears away. The man is sneaky and sly enough, that he would find a way to reach that twelve-trillion-mile-away citadel to fill it up. How does he do this? How does he get away with so much rancorous pomposity? Maybe, he is playing among lesser gods: Us. Armed and loaded with flagrant emblems, he wakes up every morning swinging with double-edged slashers…suggesting God’s own Five-Star General be put to death; that the nine-to-fiver sitting next to a Judge and taking notes of the proceedings is filth; as are Lettia James, D.A. Willis, and Special Prosecutor Smith. There are ninety-one other reasons he would, most likely do a hop, skip, and jump over these indictments, as there seems to be no shackles and fetters strong enough to hold him down.
Just when you thought he was done, he goes over for another sleepover in Hades; Hell’s vixens flash him…no, not that kind of, ‘For your eyes only’ kind of flash’. They show him trinkets of gold, lapis lazuli, and shiny, cheap ornamentations in truckloads. What he doesn’t know is that the cache is from the king of alchemy. But only Donald J. Trump knows monetization like no one else knows it. The Top-Secret Documents, the ones with the United States’ Nuclear Secrets he peddles, and brags about like he generated them have been sold. I’ll bet my bottom dollar that the Saudis have them…and they got them through Jared #two billion dollars. And now we hear of the extensive damages he might have caused chirping like a canary to the Australian. And this is where the demi-god garb, I donned on him comes in.
With Donald Trump, he has, not once in his life, gotten down on his knees to pray to God.
Ordinarily, the common man would be sitting in jail right about now. But not Donald J. Trump. Come 2024, this misogynist, this devil in a black suit, this yellow-haired, toto grabber, could win it all. This is tantamount to Lucifer dethroning God. Think about it. Could that happen? Not in Heaven, it won’t. Could God fall asleep for the one He kicked out of Paradise with eighty million votes to rise from the fiery heap to sit back on the throne? Not in Heaven, it won’t. Imagine the rewrites to follow Daemon Hades’ (Satan) re-ascension…back at the helm, that is; the re-creation gambit Lucifer would put forth, and the benevolent Laws of God he would thrash and then rework to suit his scheme…with the utmost wickedness…to put a sheen on his evil machinations. That is the demise we are facing as Donald J. Trump trudges on. Be afraid…be very afraid. He would come down with the heaviest of hands. The man is driven by one thing: That elusive title of the world’s richest and strongest man. He wants that label, that classification, even if it means putting a slug in the proverbial head the US rears so gloriously as the Keeper of Peace. This is the death of democracy as I see it. With Donald Trump, he has, not once in his life, gotten down on his knees to pray to God. How do I know that? Take a good look at him. The brash, mongrel look is a dead giveaway. The man is a rabid atheist…if you want to know the truth. The much self-centeredness…the inglorious self-absorption about him is immeasurable; that narcissism spilled over in his teens. The man would no longer self-correct…because it is too doggone late. He has never done anything wrong against God to ask God for forgiveness. He said it. In the back of his deranged mind, he believes he will live forever. I do not have to re-litigate, for your readership, this man’s outrageously longwinded, load of sewage waffle. I could go on, ya know! I could freaking go on.
♦ Don Okolo, Professor and filmmaker, is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. He is the author of many books.
