Maga Trumpton : Chapter Four ~ The Land of the Enslaved, the Hoodwinked and Laughing Stock of the World

 FOUR

Thursday, 16 March 2017

LIBERTY pondered, as she sat quietly on the edge of the fountain outside the Big House in Washington, flicking her finger occasionally to create a new wave, much like one sees when one decides to faff around and throw pebbles in a pool. 

JUSTICE, her blindfold temporarily removed, looked on.

LIBERTY glanced at her. 

Jess, do you ever get the impression that no matter what we do, some people seem not to understand that they really are on a losing game? You know, like they're a bit lacking in the ability to reason things out? That they can't see the potential consequences of their actions?

Yes, I do Libbie. And him in there ain't really got a clue what he's doing - gesturing with a nod of her head - where he's going and why he keeps being hit by your fans! But I'm losing my patience Libbie. You seen what he's gone and done now?!

Another flick and a few more rings reached out across the water. No Jess, I dread to think, but you're going to tell me anyway. 

Well, Clueless - my new name for him - having been trounced on that infamous executive order 13679 - has now drafted a new one, just leaving Iraq off on account of them.

Anyway, Clueless has promised that this time, his executive order will be successful. Thing is, he's a bit new to politics and a bit short on what to say and what not to say to his erstwhile public. So when he says he's going to do something, but then I decide - with you of course - that in the interests of true freedom and justice it would be wrong to sanction his executive orders, then it sets off a whole trail of murmuring and muttering.

Town speaks to county, county speaks to state, states start comparing notes and suddenly Clueless finds that rather than he and his henchmen dismantling what they call the unacceptable face of elitist administration up on the Hill, instead the whole darned fabric of the Land of the Free is being torn up, and the pillars of government are becoming very - let us say - wobbly.

Yes, I like that Jess. 'Wobbly'. And the more it wobbles, the more it sways and rocks in the breeze. Now if I turn on, say, ten wind farms, your man in the Big House is soon going to part company with the pillar he's plonked hisself on! And it's not so much going to be a case of the proverbial hitting the fan again, but Big Bum suddenly landing well and truly in the Swamp, as he likes to call all that you and I and others have worked over hundreds of years to build.

Well, Libbie, I'm going to wander over a few states, pop into a few legislatures and I have my eye on the Bench in Hawaii. I like them a lot, not least because they wind up a lot of white supremacists and GOP bods in insisting even though they are happily one of the fifty states, that their flag is the stripes and the Brit Union Flag. And in my present mood, I'm all for reminding Clueless that I attach more importance to the mother of parliaments across the Pond, even when they’re having their own little family crisis - than I do to slap-dash executive orders being signed and handed down like laws are confetti.

And then came 6 January 2021.

And then came 20 November 2024 with quite a court case in between.

And then came 20 January 2025, and, sure as dammit the man and his gang had promised ~ the shit well and truly hit the fan ~ WORLDWIDE.

14 February 2025
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© 2025 Kenneth Thomas Webb

First written 4 April 2017