Journal of the Plague Year
After the address
[The President’s bedroom in the White House residence. Majestic with chandelier and draped windows, but a bit of a mess: The bed hasn’t been made, there are tissues, KFC buckets, and soft drink cups lying around, and TRUMP is sprawled on a sofa in his bathrobe. His face is dark and impassive, and he is wheezing and sniffing as he was during his Coronavirus national address. Lighting is low. A knock at the door.]
TRUMP: Who?
VOICE: Mark Meadows, Mr. President.
TRUMP: [After a beat] Okay.
[New White House Chief of Staff MARK MEADOWS enters, holding a portfolio and a laminated paper doorknob hanger. He seems cheerful but has dark circles under his eyes and walks with a stoop. He gets a few steps in, stops, starts to gag; restrains himself; comes forward a few more steps, doubles over, begins to retch.]
You okay, Mick?
MEADOWS: Mark, sir. [Coughs, straightens up]
TRUMP: You alright?
MEADOWS: Yes, fine, sir. Like I said, that was all a ruse, what I told the media, to confuse them. Actually I have very bad allergies.
TRUMP: Good, ‘cause it doesn’t smell so great.
MEADOWS: Didn’t notice, sir, but have the maids, uh — have they been sent home?
TRUMP: Told ‘em stay away.
MEADOWS: [Holds up the hanger, which reads “Privacy please”] Yes, I saw this. Maybe we should call them in.
TRUMP: You’ve seen the maids, right? They’re supposed to be legal but I dunno. Bad time to let finks in.
MEADOWS: Yes, would you like to discuss that?
TRUMP: Sit.
MEADOWS: I’m fine standing, sir. At my age, if you sit down it’s hard to get up again. Well, you know how it is — [Hurriedly] or actually you don’t because you’re in such great shape, sir, yourself.
TRUMP: That fuckin’ boon they had in here spent all his time in the White House gym. I don’t touch it. I could still beat his ass just like I did in the election.
MEADOWS: No question, sir!
TRUMP: Hosed it down because you know how those people sweat. I had everything sprayed.
MEADOWS: [Opening his portfolio case] Right. So, great speech tonight, sir. Really commanding, calming too. I bet the markets will —
TRUMP: Let me ask you something, Mark.
MEADOWS: [Closes protfolio, holds it over his crotch; attentive] Yes, Mr. President.
TRUMP: How did John Candy really die?
MEADOWS: [After a beat] I — believe it was a heart attack, sir.
TRUMP: Did they find him like that? Dead? Was he clowning around, then all of a sudden he goes “Oh I don't feel so good” and collapses?
MEADOWS: I don’t know.
TRUMP: Maybe he went off by himself. I hear animals do that, cats. They go off in the woods to die.
MEADOWS: I’ll have a briefing prepared, sir. Now, you — you know what, I think I will sit down.
[MEADOWS goes to a different couch, sits heavily.]
Now, would you like to talk about the market?
TRUMP: I give these fuckers everything. They want tax cuts, I give. The oil guys lose their shirts, I give. Still they fuck me.
MEADOWS: Well, look at it from their side, sir, it’s not so great for them either.
TRUMP: Bullshit. They could tank the whole company, send it in the crapper, and walk away rich. Anytime I had a little setback everyone said I was through. Like to see them run a casino. Everyone’s got his hand out. But I showed them, I showed them.
MEADOWS: That’s right, sir, and the people know it, and that’s why they’re going to reelect you with a bigger majority than ever.
TRUMP: They can’t vote for me if they’re dead.
[Pause.]
MEADOWS: We’ll — we’ll get them to vote by mail, sir, right away, before the election!
TRUMP: Vote by mail, nah. You don’t win by getting people to vote — you win by keeping people from voting. Weren’t you in Congress?
MEADOWS: That’s right.
TRUMP: You don’t know much about politics.
[Presidential son-in-law JARED KUSHNER enters. He’s wearing a yellow Level A Hazmat suit. A yellow light glows eerily inside the helmet. He talks but is incomprehensible. He seems to notice this and fiddles with something on his helmet. His voice then comes out of a little speaker.]
KUSHNER: There we go! Hi, Mr. President, and Mr. Man, Mr. Mark. I’m ready to brief the President on the coronavirus situation. I don’t have the papers with me but I pretty much remember all my expert testimony.
MEADOWS: [Getting up] Well, I certainly don’t want to keep you from this! [Heading hurriedly toward the door] Good talk, Mr. President, see you tomorrow you get some sleep.
[KUSHNER stops MEADOWS.]
KUSHNER: Mr. Mark, have you been washing your hands?
MEADOWS: Yes, Mr. Kushner.
KUSHNER: Mmm hmm. And not touching your face?
MEADOWS: No, Mr. Kushner.
KUSHNER: Mm, good. If you feel shortness of breath you stay home and see the nurse!
MEADOWS: I — yes, I will, Mr. Kushner.
KUSHNER: Okay, goodnight, Mark!
[MEADOWS hurries away. We hear him coughing in the hallway.]
[To TRUMP] I like when he calls me Mister Kushner! Glad you got rid of that stupid Mick.
[TRUMP suddenly has a violent sneezing and coughing fit that goes on for about twenty seconds. Pause. He focuses on KUSHNER.]
TRUMP: What, what are you doing here.
KUSHNER: Coronavirus briefing! I have the latest figures. Well, in my head. You want to hear them?
TRUMP: Sure.
KUSHNER: Okay. Everything’s going great! Only a few people sick and now that we cut off stupid Europe everything’s gonna be all better.
TRUMP: Get out of here.
KUSHNER: [A little crestfallen] But no, I wasn’t making a joke, I mean really, everything’s going great. I wish you could see the charts, but I left them in an Uber. You should be happy —
[TRUMP is writhing on his couch, his hands grasping wildly.]
What are you — what is it? Are you having a fit?
TRUMP: Looking for something to get... here...
[Suddenly TRUMP gets up, holding what looks like a chafing dish in one hand. His robe has fallen open, revealing that he is only wearing a t-shirt and socks underneath. He lunges at KUSHNER, holds him with his free hand and starts hacking weakly at his helmet with the chafing dish. KUSHNER screams, which distorts his amplified voice so that it sounds like feedback; then TRUMP manages to strike the switch that turns off the speaker, so KUSHNER’s voice is inaudible, though he is still wide-eyed and obviously screaming. After several horrible seconds KUSHNER escapes through the door, leaving it open. TRUMP wheels around, waving the chafing dish, then with a grunt collapses to the floor. Long pause. Finally a small woman wearing a French maid’s outfit appears in the doorway and lightly knocks on the doorjamb.
MAID: Hello? ¿Ocupado? [She sniffs] ¡Apesta!
[CURTAIN.]
I have to admit that I quite like Trump's speech last night. He somehow managed to deliver it while sounding exactly like a 5th grader reading his book report.
But the best part about it was that less than 20 minutes after Trump finished the speech, his press office was on the phone to all the media outlets to issue "corrections and amplifications" about the speech. For example, even though Trump SAID he was stopping cargo from Europe, what he MEANT was that cargo could continue to come from Europe. And even though what he SAID was that he was blocking flights from Europe, what he MEANT was that he was calling for extra screening for some people coming from some areas of Europe.
And thus it was that, by 10PM, stock market futures were in complete freefall. Because the very stable genius could not even manage a keynote live televised speech without being either dishonest or incorrect in every detail.
I’ll repeat here what I said over on the blog: that speech last night was like a bizarre Twilight Zone parody. If in the middle of it Trump had screamed “WE HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR BUT FEAR ITSELF” then face-planted on the Resolute Desk as medics rushed into the frame from off-screen, it wouldn’t have seemed surprising. Our new timeline will be authored by the Coen brothers. We are so fucked.