MAR-A-LAGO, FL — As the final, gilded curtain prepares to fall on what historians will undoubtedly record as the “Most Tremendously Luxurious Administration, Believe Me,” a nation holds its breath. Not in anxiety, but in anticipation of the quiet—a quiet not heard since before the dawn of the 5 AM tweetstorm. The removal of Donald J. Trump from the political stage, whether by ballot or other constitutional means, promises not a simple transition of power, but the cultural equivalent of draining a swimming pool filled with champagne, gold leaf, and simmering grievances.
Insiders report that planning for the post-Trump era is already underway in the halls of power. The foremost concern, according to a senior official speaking on condition of anonymity because “melancholy isn’t a good look,” is The Great De-Gilding. “We’ve commissioned a special task force from Sotheby’s to gently remove the adhesive-backed gold vinyl from the presidential lecterns. The Resolute Desk has developed a peculiar sheen; we think it was polished with a mixture of Fox & Friends tears and Diet Coke. It will need to be exorcised.”
The impact on the Washington ecosystem will be profound. An entire cottage industry of cable news panels, tasked solely with deciphering the meaning behind a misspelled adjective or a cryptic reference to “Covfefe,” will face mass unemployment. “What will we do?” lamented one prominent pundit, swirling a glass of Merlot nervously. “We might have to go back to analyzing policy. It’s a nightmare scenario.”
Meanwhile, the social scene is bracing for a devastating drought of drama. “The season’s been utterly flat since he left office,” whispered a doyenne of Palm Beach high society, adjusting her diamond choker. “The cocktail parties lack that certain… kinetic energy. No one arrives in their own helicopter just to declare the canapés ‘sad.’ No one threatens to primary the waiter. It’s all become so civil. Dreadfully dull.”
Of course, the most poignant adjustments will be personal for the 45th President himself. Sources close to the former First Family (or as close as one can get after the NDAs are signed) predict a difficult transition. “Imagine going from a world where you are the absolute sun around which every planet, comet, and bit of space debris orbits,” explained a former aide, “to a world where you have to dial the phone yourself.” The horror.
The key challenge will be finding a suitable outlet for his signature leadership style. Early ventures are rumored to include:
· Trump & Sons Substack: A premium newsletter where for $99/month, subscribers get hourly “Truths” delivered directly to their inbox, rated on a scale of “True” to “The Truest.”
· Executive Time™: The Resort: A luxury destination where guests pay to sit in a replica Oval Office, shout at a framed photo of Nancy Pelosi, and receive a complimentary hamburder served on fine china.
· The MAGA Preservation Society: A living history museum where actors in red hats re-enact key moments, such as the “Standoff at the Bunker” and the “Very Legal & Very Cool Map Reading of Hurricane Dorian.”
But let us not weep for the end of an era. Instead, let us remember the splendors: the art of the unhinged rally, the bold sartorial statement of a half-mast tie grazing a belt buckle the size of a small plate, the poetic cadence of a sentence that begins with “Nobody knows more than me…” and ends seven minutes later with “…and they all said it was beautiful.”
As the last motorcade departs, a solemn silence will descend. A silence that will, eventually, be filled with the sounds our republic once knew: the hum of a government functioning below a breaking news alert, the gentle rustle of a diplomatic cable not posted on social media, and the soft, steady click of a Twitter account, untouched and growing digital dust.
Farewell, Mr. President. Your reign was a lot. Just… a lot. And as you depart the stage, a grateful, exhausted nation has only one thing left to say: “Okay, Google: How do you un-see a golden toilet?”