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September 23, 2005

You're Fired, Season 2: Trump Grills the Senate Judiciary Committee Democrats

SCENE: A corporate boardroom dominated by a long table of polished wood. Three Democratic Senators -- TEDDY [KENNEDY], CHUCK [SCHUMER], and JOE [BIDEN] -- file in and take their seats at the table.

After a moment, the double-doors behind the table open, and CAROLYN enters, followed by a seven-foot-tall humanoid covered in matted fur and wearing nothing but a pale yellow ascot. They take their seats, and then DONALD TRUMP enters and takes his seat.


TRUMP: Okay. This week you were assigned a task. You had to dredge up derogatory information about a perfectly-acceptable judicial nominee and tank his nomination in committee. What went wrong?

CHUCK: As Project Manager, I'd like to say that I think the team, as a whole, did very well. But I also have to add-- I took the initiative in taking this nominee on, but certain teammates didn't seem completely engaged in the project at all.

TED: When are the strippers coming? I believed I was promised strippers.

CHUCK: Ahem. I think you see what I'm saying.

TRUMP (to Carolyn): Ted brings up an interesting point. When are the strippers coming?

CAROLYN (checking her agenda): There are no strippers scheduled for today. Or, actually, for any day.

TRUMP: Well that's just not good business. We're sitting here at a boring meeting with no strippers. The key to business is keeping things moving. And strippers definitely move. I love when they put on a good rock song, a hard rock song, and grind to it. Like songs by Guns N' Roses. What's that Guns N' Roses song I like watching strippers grind to, Carolyn?

CAROLYN: Uhh, I'm not really sure. Paradise City?

TRUMP: Doesn't sound familiar. You know-- the one with the crunchy metal guitar.

CAROLYN: Errr... Mr. Brownstown?

TRUMP: That's not it either. You know, the really kick-ass Guns N' Roses song. The one by Neil Diamond. Brother Love's Travelling Salvation Show, that's it. That's a really good song.

CAROLYN: That's not by Guns N' Roses, Mr. Trump.

TRUMP: No? Who does that?

CAROLYN: Well, as you just said-- Neil Diamond.

TRUMP: Yes, that's right. Hell of a rocker. Injected life back into metal. Too bad he just couldn't keep it together and find some way to keep working with Duff with Slash. It was highway robbery that he lost that Grammy to Jethro Tull.
(pause)
I think we're getting ahead of ourselves. I should introduce the two people who'll be helping me make this decision. Caroyn, you all know. George, my lawyer, is away on business, making sure my beautiful, classy, and luxurious wife Melanea abides by the terms of our pre-nup and keeps under 115 pounds. So he'll be replaced this week by...

(Trump looks over at the tall, hairy, ascot-wearing humanoid to his right)

TRUMP: Who are you again?

HAIRY ASCOTTED HUMANOID: I'm Gay Bigfoot, Mr. Trump. (strikes a "Vogue" pose) Shazzz-- AMMM!!! (a half-eaten trout falls from his mangy beard)

TRUMP (to Carolyn): Gay Bigfoot?

CAROLYN: He's part of our Minority Outreach project.

TRUMP: Oh, yes. Well. The Trump Organization certainly supports minority outreach. We make it a priority to hire qualified gay executives, qualified... Bigfoot executives...

(Gay Bigfoot begins scratching his furry groin with a tree-limb)

GAY BIGFOOT: Deer tick season. They bite like bastards.

TRUMP: Yeahhh... so I've heard.
(sighs in frustration)
Where the hell is George? Seriously, why does he always schedule something else when he knows we have to do this show? Carolyn, take a memo. The next time George misses one of these stupid things, I'll have him killed. I mean I'll literally make a phone call to some waste management guys I know and I'll have him whacked.

CAROLYN: You can't whack him, Mr. Trump. It's murder, it's illegal, he's one of your best friends, and it would cause the complete destruction of everything you've built.

TRUMP: Don't come to me with problems, Carolyn. Come to me with solutions. That's the key to business-- getting things done, important business things, things like cutting George's throat in his sleep the next time he misses a boardroom meeting. Anyway. Back to Chuck. You were the Project Manager for this task, Chuck. What went wrong?

CHUCK: Let me say that as a Project Manager, one has to keep a sharp focus on the task at hand. And when certain members of the team are disruptive or uncooperative--
(nods towards Ted)
-- it makes it very difficult to bring a task to a successful conclusion.

TRUMP: He seems to be saying you didn't pull your weight, Ted. How do you answer that?

TED (rattling ice in tumbler): Errr ehhh, who's a guy have to drown to get a decent Chivas Rocks around here?

CHUCK: Again. You can see the lack of focus, Mr. Trump.

TRUMP: I think I do. But leadership is all about overcoming obstacles, Chuck. I remember when I renovated the old Harrington Hotel down on 24th Street, and turned it into the magnificent, luxurious Trump International Super-Duper-Classy Hotel. But I had problems-- problems with zoning, problems with contractors, red tape, bickering investors. And worse.
(sighs)
You probably read about this in the papers. We had a haunting on the thirteenth floor, a glowing-green spud-like ghost who frightened off potential occupants. But I dealt with that problem-- I hired a team of Paranormal Troubleshooters to blast the ghost with funky electric-spaghetti laser-beams. You remember that, Carolyn?

CAROLYN: I do remember it, Mr. Trump. But that didn't actually hapen.

TRUMP: What are you talking about? You remember all the hassles I had trying to get that building rezoned for a mixed occupancy and retail business?

CAROLYN: No, I meant the part about the ghost. I think you're just remembering parts of the movie Ghostbusters. It was on last night while you were re-negotiating your pre-nup with Melanea.

TRUMP: Oh that's right. I've got to tell you-- I am good. I got her to sign an update to the pre-nup. If I decide to divorce her for any reason, she owes me five million dollars, lump-sum. Now that's what I call hard-line negotiating. I think I'll write my next book about that.

CAROLYN: Sounds like another winner, Mr. Trump.

TRUMP: I've got a great title, too. I think I'll call it The Art of the Deal II: I Ain't Afraid Of No Ghosts. Now, Joe. You've been pretty quiet throughout this. You seem like you're trying to fly under the radar. Tell me why you shouldn't be fired.

JOE: The extreme rightwing media blocked out our message from getting out. I tried my best to give soaring speeches about the importance of Roe v. Wade and a moderate, mainstream judicial philosophy.

TRUMP: But wasn't the whole point of the hearings to ask the nominee questions? Instead of doing that, you spent your time talking about yourself, drawing attention to yourself, mugging for the cameras.

JOE: I wasn't "mugging for the cameras," Mr. Trump. I was trying to communicate to the American people that their precious rights are in peril--

TRUMP: Halfway through your allotted time you just started doing card tricks.

JOE: I asked the nominee some hard-hitting questions about his radical right-wing judicial philosophy--

TRUMP: Joe, "Is your card the King of Diamonds?" is not a very hard-hitting question.

CAROLYN: It wasn't even the right card.

TRUMP: Good point.

JOE: He used some kind of Federalist Society sleight-of-hand to replace his card with a different one. That proves my whole point-- these people will stop at nothing to destroy a woman's right to choose.

TRUMP: Okay. Well, whatever. After the card tricks it only got worse. You took out an accoustic guitar and started playing a medley of James Taylor songs. What the hell was that all about?

CHUCK: Mr. Trump, in this time of war and natural disaster, I thought I could help heal this country's divisions with some soothing soft-rock folk music.

TED: Errr ehhh, I've got to stand up for my very good friend Joe on this one, Mr. Trump. You break out the accoustic guitar and start playing Sweet Baby James and the chickies all get as damp as... well, as damp as a sedan, I guess.

TRUMP: Sedans are damp?

TED (eyes shifting): Sometimes.

TRUMP: Point taken. Carolyn, take a memo. Ted's next project will be to serve as George's chauffer.

CAROLYN: I don't think that's wise, Mr. Trump.

TRUMP: God, you really are a such pill lately, Carolyn. Remember when you used to be fun?

CAROLYN: I have no recollection of ever being fun.

TRUMP: Oh that's right. I guess I was thinking of that secretary I used to have. You know, the cute one with the big glasses.

CAROLYN: Annie Potts from Ghostbusters?

TRUMP: That's the one. She had that sexy librarian thing going. I nailed her right here on this conference table.

CAROLYN: No you didn't.

TRUMP: Well, maybe I didn't. But let's not get mired down in petty details. That's the key to business-- keeping your eye on the big picture. And in the big picture view, I monkey-banged Annie Potts from Ghostbusters while George was negotiating a zoning variance for my sumptuous, gorgeous, 10,000-square-foot wife Melanea, who I'll be divorcing next week and then bulldozing and turning into the world's most beautiful and exclusive golf course. The sandtraps will be composed entirely of diamond-dust and instead of flags on the greens I'll have beautiful Italian marble statues of myself riding a unicorn.

CAROLYN: Classy yet understated, Mr. Trump.

TRUMP: You're darn tootin' Missy. Now, Chuck, you spent about three hours talking about Hurricane Katrina and race. What was your thinking on that? What does that have to do with being a Supreme Court justice?

CHUCK: I think a Supreme Court justice must understand the historical injustice that minorities have suffered, and also understand the need for a government response to that injustice. I'm sure Gay Bigfoot gets that.

GAY BIGFOOT: Don't put a lable on me, girlfriend. I'm a double minority-- a homosexual, and a Bigfoot, or as we prefer to be called, a Person of Sasquatch -- but I think there's a lot of room for individual initiative in fighting oppression and injustice. I find it condescending and patronizing when you imply that Gay Bigfoots such as myself always need help from Big Daddy Government.

CHUCK: I was only trying to illuminate the problem --

GAY BIGFOOT: Let me give you an example. Just last year a bunch of racist homophobic anti-sasquatchites taunted me and insulted me in the most vile manner. Was I hurt? Did I want to cry? Of course. But I perservered. I relied on something called self-respect-- and self-reliance. I summoned the courage inside of me and I stalked each one of them, hunted them down like animals, snapped their little human necks, salted them and hung their bodies in a nice dry cave to let their meat tenderize and cure. And then I ate them.

(everyone stares at Gay Bigfoot with jaws open wide)

GAY BIGFOOT: What? What? They oppressed me. And sasquatches have to eat. We're not herbivores, you know.

TRUMP: Well that's certainly a proactive response to a problem. I'm just curious. Has, uhhh, George ever oppressed you?

CAROLYN: Please don't go here, Mr. Trump.

TRUMP: I'm just asking a question. Has George ever given you a dirty look? Maybe... made you feel like an unwanted outsider? You see what I'm getting at, Gay Bigfoot?

GAY BIGFOOT: Depends. Can I have his office?

TRUMP: We'll talk.

(Ted takes the opportunity to take off his pants)

TRUMP: What are you doing?

TED: I'm, errr ehhh, letting a little fresh air blow through Camelot's courtyard, if you errr ehhh, take my meaning.

TRUMP: I don't know if I like that, Ted. I think businessmen should keep their pants on at all times. I remember one time I was chasing this little glowing potato-face of a ghost and the sonofabitch just slimed me. Completely slimed me. But I kept my pants on, Ted. And that's the key to success at business -- keeping your genitals covered. Even when you get slimed, the genitals stay dry.

CAROLYN: Mr. Trump...

TRUMP: Yes?

CAROLYN: Oh, nevermind. The hell with it. Carry on.

TRUMP: Well, this is a difficult decision. I've got a Project Manager who thinks the Supreme Court issues injunctions against circular storms, I've got another guy who would have broken out the Gallagher Sledge-O-Matic and begun smashing watermelons if he'd had any more camera time, and I've got this bloated fat-headed pantless drunk over here who's been mouthing out "Show Your Tits" to Carolyn since we sat down.

TED: I can, errr ehhh, get you all the beads you want.

CAROLYN: Thank you, but no.

TRUMP: So I don't see that I have any other choice. You were a bunch of incompetent, nasty, preening jackasses on national television. You failed in your task, and you failed the American people as well, who deserve better. You're all fired. Dismissed.

(one by one the candidates file out. But Ted pauses to whisper something in Carolyn's ear)

CAROLYN: No, I don't want to "play Benny Hill with the little old bald man who lives in your shorts." And you stink of vodka. And gingivitis.

TED: Ehh, ehhh, your loss. Whore.

(Ted exits.)

TRUMP: Well, I think that was an easy call.

CAROLYN: You really had no choice.

TRUMP: I think you're right. Well, let's get suited up.

(they each put on gray overalls and sling on big black high-tech-looking backpacks over their shoulders)

TRUMP: Let's get moving. I hear Gozer the Gozerian is causing all sorts of hell down at the Trump Plaza.

GAY BIGFOOT: I love this town!!

digg this
posted by Ace at 03:09 PM

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