Well first things first. I would look weak. I would humbly ask all our great allies to give us another chance.
I would ask the Iranians to at least let everyone else’s oil through the straits, and start real talks on how to end this—not a war.
I would inform Putin that I don’t know anyone called ‘Bubba’ so cut the shit, and if he has anything on me, so what, I’m an old man.
I would ask Canada if they’d like to just call it even and maybe go halfsies on a really good fence. Maybe offer to trade some good Bourbon for some good Canadian Whiskey?
In the meantime, all the administration’s offices would be relocated to Alligator Alcatraz.
The Kennedy Center would immediately book a Cats revival just to see who shows up.
I would immediately return all the library books that have been missing from the Smithsonian since January.
I would ask Elon if he’d like his desk back at Twitter, one-way ticket, no carry-ons.
While all this was being done I would be getting as much advice as possible on who would actually be good replacements for the now-empty cabinet positions. Party labels be damned.
The White House East Rose Garden would be staged for one hell of a bling yard sale—gold glitz and curtains anyone? Be nice to hold court in something other than a brothel parlor.
I would release the Epstein files on a Friday afternoon, then everybody would be too busy to notice how clumsy I was.
I would have Air Force One parked. I don’t have my own golf course and spa and I would look like a fool carting ‘Putter’ around.
I would have non-stop news coverage of Trump being perp-walked away muttering some nonsense about a silly ballroom.
