No one expected this.
Enthusiasts, I will confess that I thought it would be far more catastrophic. I thought we’d be in nine more wars, and that the dollar would have long ago eaten its own dick. Basketball Head would be inaugurated in January, and we’d be living in Bartertown by March. Typhoons and hurricanes would switch hemispheres and fuck shit up all year long, glorying in the thrill of the new. Pies–even cobblers and crumbles–would turn bumptious. Your high-school reunion would get rabies. Fierce times coming up.
None of that happened. It’s just been so damn weird.*
The Great White Dope has been talking about buying Greenland for a while, which is normal. He brings it up out-of-nowhere in meetings. Everyone”ll be discussing whatever it is they discuss in those meetings–lunch and Ivanka’s tits, I’m guessing–and the Sheriff of Tard Town will pipe up:
“Where are we on Greenland? We get financing and we’re a ‘go’ on Greenland. That’s what Mitch McConnell told me, and he was very strong in his compliments of me that day, but I would trust him more if we were trying to buy Yellowland. The wife he’s got, yellow lady. You think she walks on his back? All of them do that. You can’t keep them off of there. Pence, why are you crying? Get out of the room!”
And so forth.
The rabble was greatly roused by this news. Memes were created, some dank. In one, Trump stood over a boy pushing a lawnmower: WILL YOU SELL ME GREENLAND? A number of wags tweeted out This is the day Donald Trump became President…of Greenland. News anchors smirked, or agoggled their eyes in disbelief. And, of course, some poor schmuck journalist had to ask the Danish Prime Minister for a comment.
(Greenland is an autonomous country within the Kingdom of Denmark, along with the Faroe Islands, Jutland, and an archipelago of teeny-weeny landfalls in the Baltic Sea. The Kingdom of Denmark is officially history’s most depressing empire.)
She, being Scandinavian and efficient and not used to such foolishness, said,
“What? Of course Donald Trump cannot buy Greenland. Why would you ask me something like this?”
This irritated His Royal Toiletface. The man owns several highly-profitable golf courses! He’d do a great job with Greenland! Who does that little bitch think she is, keeping me from buying Greenland? I’ll show her:
Your grandkids, maybe, are gonna ask you about this shit, and you better not sugarcoat it for ’em:
“Timmy, it was fucked up. Now fetch Pappy his pills.”
*For those of us not currently hiding under their beds because they thought they saw an ICE van drive down the street.