A future for Donald Trump

 There’s not much for me to add to the Biden-Trump conversations, because Trump leaves me speechless. But I have been pondering the things he can look forward to hopefully starting in November, worse case in four years time.

Top of the list has to be another divorce. In her unapproved speech for the Republican National Convention, broadcast apparently illegally from the White House, Melania Trump’s message was about as far from Trump-speak as possible. Sympathetic to victims of Covid-19 and health care workers, lauding immigrants’ success, kindness, compassion, miles from the divisiveness of her awful husband. She’ll bugger off as soon as she can.

Trumpo’s bad hair days will only get worse, the breezes more cruel, the prospect of rain more terrifying. The hair is slowly falling out, getting stringier, a daily reminder of corruption and decay. He will also be pulling his hands through it more often as the slew of pending prosecutions starts rolling in.

He might be exempt, but prosecution under the Hatch Act for using the White House as a prop, is a possibility. And surely there is a team of people somewhere beavering away at a prosecution under the emoluments clause of the US constitution. There might be something from Amazon, for Trump’s efforts to get the US Post Office to double shipping rates for the company. Ditto Time Warner for his efforts to block the merger with AT&T because of CNN’s coverage of Trump, which he doesn’t like. Fraud cases will blossom, and bankruptcy will follow. 

Despite the efforts to steer business towards his miserable venues, they will start to falter. The Doral resort in Florida will definitely not be the venue for a G-7 summit. Another guy who was bitten by bedbugs at the Doral will sue and the place will finally collapse under the weight of its debts. Deutsche Bank will call in their loans, leading a charge that will see other Trump assets start to crumble.

He might sign a new contract for the Apprentice reality television show, but will fail to read it. The new deal will be that business owners will give him a trial to see how well he does different jobs. Those jobs could be chosen in a lucky dip and include such things as cleaning out the vats in a meat processing plant, sewage pipe maintenance, innder city school bus driver, pedicurist in a salon specialised in treatments for black people. If he goes for the porno star option, he could be rated on his performance, offered a job maybe. But mostly the audience would be shouting along: “Fire that man!” And he’ll get a dose of the clap compounded by Covid-19.

And then there are all the people waiting in the queue to blackmail him for various offences. They include site managers of his building projects, women and more women, the bloke who took Trump’s SATs, another bloke who did his college midterms and finals, the guy who wrote his essays. Stormy Daniels’ Trump love child will come of age and want to meet dad, and there’ll be another Trump book or two. One will be a bestselling compilation of the documented 15,000 and counting Trump lies. 

The ghosts of all the migrant children who have died in US Federal custody will haunt him. Their parents will sue and win, forcing a major overhaul of immigration law (not the legacy he has in mind). The litigations will blossom. A class action suit will be lodged on behalf of the over 5,400 migrant children separated from their parents. Trump will be prosecuted for manslaughter following the deaths of people who ingested disinfectants on his advice. Puerto Rico will sue him for negligence over the hurricane in 2017. The US government will prosecute him for misconduct in office and for lying to pretty much everyone, whenever he wanted to, regardless of the seriousness of the lies. The Internal Revenue Service will hit him for back taxes dating from the early 1990s.

As for the shady Russian stuff, Trump’s son-in-law will be exposed as a double agent, despite being unaware that he is one. The Washington Post will never stop digging and publishing, encouraging Trump’s latent paranoia. QAnon will invite him to become their leader and he’ll accept “carnival not cannibal right?”.

He’ll catch Covid-19 again, struggle, recover and then catch it, repeat. The last time will kill him whilst on a hunting trip with Putin in the Urals, freezing off his fake tan arse and teensy, hairless testicles. Putin will have gone home without Trump noticing. President Xi will send no condolences, nor will Zelensky or any other grown-up. No one will mourn.

Published by Laurel Lindström

Laurel Brunner has had a long and rewarding career as a technical writer and journalist. Now with her first novel, the Draftsman due for publication by Unbound in 2020 she is metamorphosing into an author under her real name, Laurel Lindström

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