[THIS SATIRE IS FROM A VERY ANGRY CONSTITUENT WHO DECRIES THE LACK OF RECOGNITION OF THE VALUE DIVERSITY BRINGS TO US ALL EVERY DAMN DAY]
Watching the Democratic National Convention and seeing intelligent, educated, articulate people speak, I am moved to craft a wicked, sarcastic fantasy. I harbor ill will toward our current president for an ever expanding list of offenses. Here is my fondest imagining:
Shortly after losing, President 45 (we do not say his name) finds himself sick with COVID-19. He thinks he’s prepared for what he finds in the hospital. After schmoozing his way passed the reception desk, he is met by his first nurse who is a Latina American woman.
“Mr. President. How are you doing today? Feeling bad? I know just how you feel. My husband lost his job this spring. He’s been so blue. In fact, he voted blue.” She looks at him critically. “First, you need to wear a mask. Oh, look, all we have is those sweet Black Lives Matter masks. I wonder who brought those in? They’re lovely. I’m sure this will look fabulous on you.” She stands back frowning. “Well, it’s an improvement.”
“My gosh, what’s happened to your hair, Mr. President? It’s all hanging down one side...”
“After I take your blood pressure, I will need to take your temperature. Normally, I would take it orally but you have such a foul mouth, Mr. President, as my husband has said so many times. I’ll need to take it anally... Roll over, Mr. President.” Mr. 45 mumbles something. “No, no, don’t thank me, it’s my job.”
After his intake, the on-call doctor comes in. By that time, 45 is too ill to even grunt. “Ah, Mr. President, how good to see you.” The doctor is Indian American. “Do you know I’d like to visit my mother in India? No? I can’t visit India because—along with all of Europe and most of the rest of the world—Americans are no longer welcome. Do you know anything about this?”
The doctor reviews 45’s chart. “My gosh, you are ill. You might need a ventilator. But, our state doesn’t have any because of the shortage you helped create as president. Oh don’t worry, we have a really, really smart Navajo engineer who turns old refrigerator compressors into working ventilators. According to our wait list, you just have to live six more days before a ventilator will be available... Oh don’t worry, looking at you it’s almost possible you’ll make it.”
Mr. 45 finds himself in a bed. An older European American woman nurse is tending to him. “Oh, Mr. President, I understand you like to grab women by the pussy. Don’t you worry, all of our nurses are professionals. If anyone grabs us, we just slap ‘em silly...and then give them a sedative. You look like you need a sedative, Mr. President.”
Mr. 45 needs a blood draw. The phlebotomist is a Chinese American woman. “Mr. President, we need to take some of your blood. You know those nasty things you said about China? Well, don’t worry, it doesn’t bother me at all. It doesn’t bother my grandmother who came from China either. Oooo, I’m sorry, Mr. President, did that hurt? Let me try again. These thin veins can be so hard to get a needle in.”
Another on-call doctor enters, an African American woman. “Oh, Mr. President, you’re not doing so well. If we had some hydroxychloroquine, I’d give you some. I know you think it’s effective. Unfortunately, people have been hoarding it because of you. We’re completely out. But when I learned you were here, I talked to the janitorial staff and we have plenty of disinfectant. It’s untested, but I know you recommend it. I’m happy to inject some in your veins. Here you go. I hope you feel better soon... Mr. President? Mr. President?”
She walks to the hall saying to the nurse, “Looks like he’s coding. Too bad we’ve run out of protective equipment and no one can safely respond to a code... I guess we’ll have to bring around that presidential refrigerator truck. It’s got the good shocks, you know.”
Just Vote Joe because Black Lives Matter and women are 51% of the population.
Joceile
8/20/20
[Picture of Kamala Harris, vice presidential nominee]
