Trump among the base

From the Winter Weekend White House in Gulchville, KY

From pxhere under a Creative Commons license

Under [Republican Senator Josh] Hawley’s proposal, 90 percent of the USDA’s workforce would move to Missouri and an additional nine other federal agencies would relocate their headquarters to “economically distressed” areas.

“It’s such an insular place and people forget that there’s a vast country out there and there’s lots of places in the country that aren’t like D.C. and haven’t seen gobs of money poured in,” Hawley said in an interview on Capitol Hill Wednesday afternoon...

Under Hawley’s proposal, several agencies would land in swing states critical to the presidential race.

— “Hawley, railing about DC elitism, calls for moving 10 federal agencies into heartland,” McClatchy papers

[The living room of a large but undistinguished drywall apartment. All the furnishings are new but uninviting, like what you’d find in an extended-stay hotel. Someone is banging around in the kitchen. TRUMP, JARED KUSHNER, and Senate Majority Leader MITCH McCONNELL stand in their usual outfits, looking ill at ease, while IVANKA TRUMP wears something that looks like a Daisy Duke Halloween costume, except obviously costing many thousands of dollars. From the living room window view, the apartment is apparently on the fifth or sixth floor, and we can see shacks and spavined horses and cows; every once in a while we see someone’s head peeping in the window as if they were climbing the outside wall to get glimpses of the family.]

TRUMP: Mitch, what’s the name of this dump again?

McCONNELL: Gulchville, sir. It’s the tenth largest holler in the state.

TRUMP: What the hell is a holler?

KUSHNER: I know! It’s a town in a small valley. Isn’t that right, Mitch?

McCONNELL: Yes, uh, Mr. Kushner, that’s right.

IVANKA: Alternately it’s called a hollow!

KUSHNER: Very good, Vanky!

IVANKA: We’ve been reading up.

KUSHNER: I’m thinking of establishing myself in this holler — excuse me! This here holler. I may even run for office.

McCONNELL: [neutrally] Is that right.

TRUMP: Listen, I gotta take a load off. Mitch, these couches look like they came from Ikea. I can’t sit on anything cheap. It’s like sitting in shit, for me. Get the girl to throw a sheet over the couch so we can sit down.

McCONNELL: Certainly. [calls] Maisie Belle!

WOMAN’S VOICE: I’s a comin’!

TRUMP: Who’s that?

McCONNELL: She’s the cook, but she can also do some housekeeping until Coricidin the maid gets here.

TRUMP: Where’s she?

McCONNELL: She’s been, uh, detained, I believe it’s a family event, perhaps a funeral —

[A wizened old woman in a red MAGA hat, a long, filthy white skirt, a black blouse with a doily collar, and black boots trots in from the kitchen.]

MAISIE BELLE: I’m afeared Coricidin is in the hoosegow for cookin’ meth agin. Howdy, Mr. President. I’m Maisie Belle. Right nice to meet you. I’d-a come in sooner but I been fixin’ your vittles. Y’all like squirrel, don’tcha?


TRUMP: [to McCONNELL] I don’t want to be insulting but what the fuck?

McCONNELL: [Laughing nervously] Maisie Belle is your biggest fan, sir!

[McCONNELL gestures toward the window.]

And like all these good folks outside she’s very grateful for all the jobs you’re bringing to Gulchville with your Winter Weekend White House. Now I’m sure you want to —

TRUMP: [To MAISIE BELLE] Listen, Mammy Yokum, you got some bedsheets or something else that’s clean you can throw over these couches?

MAISIE BELLE: Yes, Mr. President!

TRUMP: Well, get ‘em out here pronto. My ass is getting tired.

MAISIE BELLE: Right away, Mr. President!

[She scurries off.]

TRUMP [to McCONNELL] See, you don’t have to dance around with these people. Show ‘em the back of your hand. They love you for it.

[MAISIE BELLE returns with seven raggedy young’uns, ranging in age from seven to 14, carrying bedsheets and laying them on the couches.]

What’d I tell you? Good job there, kids.

IVANKA: How cute! Like The Grapes of Wrath.

[The 14-year-old, a girl, sidles up to TRUMP.]

GIRL: Is you rilly a Prezdint?

TRUMP: [Taken aback, gives frozen smile] How ya doin’.

GIRL: [in a low voice] Looky here Mister Prezdint, I kin suck you off real good and stick a finger up yore ass while I’m a-doin’ it, an’ no foolin’. You don’t have to pay me nothin’, just lemme have some of thet squirrel meat and sleep by the trash where it warm.

[MAISIE BELLE runs over and smacks her in the head.]

MAISIE BELLE: Now is that any sech-a way to talk to a President! Sorry, Mr. Trump, Benzedrine may be my great-great-granchild, but she ain’t nothin' but a whore even if she is livin’ with the preacher. [More confidentially] She ain't lying about suckin’ you good, though! You kin take her off’n mah hands for a flat-screen TV.

[MAISIE BELLE turns and surveys the children’s work.]

Alright, now, Mr. President, anything else we kin do for ya?

TRUMP: Yeah, how do you get cell phone service around here?

MAISIE BELLE: [Laughs] Oh, this ain’t no fancy town like Warshin’ton, Mr. President! You wants to git a message over the mountain, you jes’ write it on out an’ we kin tie it to Ole Clem, the Messenger Pigeon. If’n it don’t rain he kin git to Lexington in less than a day!

TRUMP: I’ll go nuts!

[IVANKA screams. Two boys who’ve been peeping in the window are now leaning over the sill and gawking.]

MUSH: Look, Gunk, they got all new fixin’s and nary a chicken nor rooster in sight!

GUNK: And ev’ybody smells like a drugstore — even the menfolk. [Points toward the back] Tarnation, Mush! A indoor toilet!

MUSH: [To TRUMP] Please, Mister, kin we has some o’ yore squirrel meat and stand close to that purty gal what had a operation to her nose!

[TRUMP brutally shoves them both out the window; we hear them scream as they far to the ground, and the gasp of the crowd. McCONNELL rushes to the window, looks out.]

McCONNELL: Oh no... oh my God...

TRUMP: You saw it! They were coming after my little girl like a couple of Mexican rapists!

ONE OF THE KIDS, AGE 10: [Crying, pointing at the window] What’d you do to my pappy!

ONE OF THE KIDS, AGE 6: [Crying, pointing at the window] What’d you do to my granpappy!

JARED: We’ll tell them it was ISIS!

TRUMP: Hey! I defeated ISIS!

JARED: Okay, Al Qaeda then!

[Out the window distant sounds of rage and dissension can be heard.]

McCONNELL: [Walking through the apartment] Okay, nobody panic. I’m just going to leave by a secret passage that you don’t know anything about and I’ll get in touch with... somebody.

[McCONNELL pushes a wall panel, which gives way, allowing him to escape, then goes back in place. IVANKA goes to the panel but can’t get it to re-open.]

IVANKA: We’re trapped!

JARED: [Panicking] Secret Service! Where’s the Secret Service!

IVANKA: I told them to wait in the car because they clashed with my outfit! [Screams] I told them to wear jeans but they wouldn’t!

[JARED runs to the window.]

JARED: [Calls] Hello? Attention, y’all! Listen, I’m going to throw down a wallet, and —

[A spray of buckshot peppers the top of the windowframe. IVANKA screams; JARED falls backward onto one of the couches.]


[Everyone except the crowd outside is silent. TRUMP turns to MAISIE BELLE.]

TRUMP: Listen, sweetheart, these squirrels — can you make a stroganoff out of them?