Contact The Editor
Articles By This Author
On Thursday, House Speaker Paul D. Ryan, R-Wis., emerged from what he called a "great conversation" with presumptive Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump that served as "a very positive step toward unification." He admitted, however, that there was no way they could possibly overcome their disagreements in just 45 minutes and that it was important they be really unified, not fake-unified.
What follows are, doubtless, excerpts from the meeting.
In the middle of the night Paul Ryan awoke in his cell in a cold sweat, screaming about principles. The guards opened the door.
"Paul," Reince Priebus asked him, very gently, as they led him down the long hallway of the Ministry of Truth, "what are your true feelings about Donald Trump?"
"Every morning when I wake up," Ryan said, "there is a blissful two or three seconds when I think that maybe this is not reality, and then as the truth dawns upon me I whimper, 'Please, no,' and my pillow grows wet with the streaks of my tears."
"You hate him," Priebus said. "Good. Then the time has come for you to take the last step. You must love The Donald. It is not enough to obey him: You must love him."
"I can't!" Ryan screamed. "What about my agenda? What about the Constitution? Does Donald Trump even understand how the separation of powers is supposed to work? What about immigration and trade and his entire tone as a candidate so far? This isn't going to work. I can't do it. You can't make me do it!"
Priebus stepped a little nearer to reveal a mask with rats inside it. "Ah," Ryan said. "You were saying?"
Ryan lay strapped to the gurney. He could feel Priebus's benevolent presence behind him, monitoring his torment.
"You must truly see Donald Trump as the nominee," Priebus said, so patiently, as he twisted the dial, sending a spasm of pain racking through the Intellectual Leader of the Republican Party, "not just pretend to see him."
Ryan cried on the gurney. "I can't!" he sobbed. "I'm trying, Reince, but I can't!"
Priebus twisted the dial. A forest of candidates appeared before Ryan, bending and twisting like trees in a high wind. "I see a whole horde of candidates! Chris Christie? Rick Perry? There are so many possible nominees," Ryan gasped. "But who's the real one? I don't know. I don't know."
"Better," Priebus said.
"Would you prefer to pretend to think that Donald Trump would be a good standard-bearer for the party or really to think it?"
"Really think it," Ryan said without hesitation.
Two soft pads, which felt almost moist, clamped themselves to Ryan's temples. "This will not hurt," Priebus said. "Keep your eyes fixed on mine."
There was an explosion behind Ryan's eyes, as though a piece of his mind had been removed.
"Now look at Trump," Priebus said. "What do you see?"
Ryan felt a warmth spreading through his entire legislative body. "The nominee of the party," he said.
But then the feeling of warm certainty faded, and all he saw was Donald Trump. "You see, now, that it is at any rate possible," Priebus said.
"Look at the condition you are in," Trump bellowed, turning Ryan to face the mirror. "Do you know that you stink like a goat? The party is rotting away. You are falling to pieces. Look how few voters you have, and fewer every year, and older. Do you see that thing facing you? That is the last Republican. Now put your flag tie back on."
Ryan attempted to don it, but his fingers were shaking so much that he let his hands fall helplessly to his sides.
"I am the party now," Trump said. "I bring them in historic droves. You know that you have it in your power to stop this any time you want. Everything depends on you."
"You did it," Ryan muttered. "You reduced me to this state."
"No," Trump said. "You reduced yourself to it. Nothing happened that you did not foresee."
Ryan stared up at the telescreen.
On it, Trump raged at a rally, waving his enormous and beautiful hands. So long it had taken Ryan to learn what was hidden beneath that orange exterior, that bewildering cocoon of hair! O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn exile from the loving breast! Two Leinenkugel's-scented tears trickled down the sides of Ryan's nose. But it was all right. Everything was all right. He had won a victory over himself. Paul Ryan loved The Donald.
It was a very productive meeting.
Previously:
• 03/28/16: I, Cthulhu, endorse Donald Trump
• 03/21/16: Yes, I love puns. Stop saying it's a disease
• 03/14/16: Donald Trump's Gettysburg Infomercial
• 03/11/16: The Miami debate was Hillary's personal nightmare
• 03/03/16: Chris Christie's wordless screaming
• 02/29/16: But seriously, how do we turn this Donald Trump thing off?
• 02/19/16: Donald Trump for pope
• 02/15/16: What really happens at a Dem debate
• 02/01/16: Barbie is past saving
• 01/25/16: For the love of all that is holy, save small talk
• 01/20/16: Sean Penn meets the Almighty
• 01/05/16: 'Said' is not dead. Save boring words!
Comment by clicking here.
