Supporters Of Egomaniac Meet Their Doom; Egomaniac Shaken
Calgary (CP) The presumptive Republican nominee for President (unless the party hierarchy manages to pull off a last ditch effort to deny him the nomination) continues to criss-cross the country, making no end of speeches to his demented supporters, picking fights with half the country, putting his foot in his mouth, and boasting that he’s the only person qualified to be President. He may be the last Republican standing, while previous candidates lick their wounds and plot for future campaigns, and while party brass hesitate to actually support him- but he’s not resting on his laurels.
Last week he appeared at a gathering of Trump 2016 supporters in Virginia, spending nearly an hour spewing antagonism towards the President, as well as his presumed Democrat election opponent, Hillary Clinton, still dealing with Bernie Sanders ahead of the party convention. Trump also spent time lashing out at his usual targets- Muslims, Mexicans, women, and anyone who doesn’t like him- as well as a few unlikely targets- Sesame Street, Miss Marple, and Stephen Hawking.
And then things went in another direction. The Trump campaign, earlier in the day, had received a formal reply from representatives of the heavy metal band Metallica. The candidate wanted the band to provide his campaign with a new music theme. The formal reply, paraphrased in more polite words, told Trump to go fornicate with himself.
Trump had his audience of demented lunatics in the palm of his hand when he brought the matter up to them. “You know, folks, I gotta say, it doesn’t surprise me that this bunch of losers doesn’t want anything to do with me,” he said with his customary sneer. “Over the hill, drugged out boozing metalheads. That’s what these guys are. I could have been doin’ them a yuuuuuuuuuuuge favour letting them be part of the Trump 2016 Make America Great Again campaign. But they’re too dumb to realize a good thing when they see one, am I right? Let me tell you, they’re gonna have to learn the hard way what happens when someone tells Donald J. Trump to go **** himself. I don’t need to **** myself. That’s what I got my wife and my mistresses to do... wait, did I say that out loud?”
Trump shrugged, smirked, and said, “hey, it’s a joke. Buncha humourless socalist liberals don’t have a sense of humour, and you just know those media scumbags are gonna try to make something out of that remark, right? But it’s just a joke. Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. Those Metallica guys are gonna have to learn the hard way what happens when they cross me. Which brings me to say this. Since we’ve started this whole campaign, we’ve had a lot of protestors show up at these events. Events, I’ll add, where we’ve got thousands and thousands and thousands of loyal Trump fans basking in the greatness that is The Donald. And those protestors, who seem to have nothing to do with their day but come and bug their rightful master, they ended up causing a disturbance like all those professor agitators like to do. And I’ve told the crowds to kick them out, to get them outta there, and that I’d pay whatever legal fees might be involved. And those agitators ended up getting knocked around a bit by one or seven of my loyal Trumpites.”
The candidate paused a bit before continuing. “Well, now I’ve got something I want my followers to do for me. I want all of you to go find Metallica and beat the crap out of them. One by one. Teach ‘em who’s boss. Teach those drunken druggie losers what the meaning of respect is. Believe me, folks, nothing bad can happen to a Trump fan. I’ll pay your legal bill if any cop’s dumb enough to have you charged, and I promise, I’ll have that cop fired if they dare charge you. So I want you to start with their drummer. The guy seems to spend a bunch of his time as a Mountie. I don’t know what that’s all about, but hey, doesn’t matter, am I right?” Trump sneered again before continuing.
“I want all of you to go and beat the crap outta Lars Ulrich.”
Trump fans being a very stupid lot, it didn’t take long before across the country, their legions started marshalling to hunt down Lars Ulrich. Fortunately for the drummer and the rest of the band, Metallica happens to be on tour in Australia at present. That said, however, tens of thousands of them made a horrible mistake, one made by many before them. They mistook the Metallica drummer for the other Lars Ulrich, the legendary RCMP inspector, notoriously cranky lawman, and scourge of entertainment reporters, who often mistake him for the drummer.
Two years ago, forty thousand Rush Limbaugh fans were goaded into a fight with the Inspector, a fight that left them broken, bloodied, and crying like babies. Some of them might well have been part of the estimated sixty thousand American citizens who converged in northern Montana over the next four days. The army of Trumpites were angry, itching for a fight, and comparing notes on the location of the mistaken Lars Ulrich.
Border officials were already alerted to the presence of angry gun toting Americans just south of the border at the Cut Bank, Montana- Del Bonita, Alberta crossing, demanding entrance north into Canada. Word got to the detachment, and the Inspector himself came to the spot. Reporters turned up at the site, where the tension in the air was obvious. Customs staff members on both sides of the border were nervous to be holding back thousands of angry Trumpites, wearing Trump 2016 shirts and hats. Those thousands of Trumpites were, by this time, foaming at their mouth and screaming for Ulrich’s head. Ulrich gazed at the hordes of Trumpites, shrugged, and called out, “Let them in.”
Officers were puzzled at first, looking back at the Inspector for confirmation. Ulrich simply nodded, and smiled in a cold blooded way. Had any of the Trumpites been able to recognize trouble when they saw it, they might have turned away and gone home. After all, Ulrich has previously saved the world from megalomaniacs, made Godzilla run away, and beaten up thousands of people. But as has already been established, Trumpites are very, very dumb.
The border crossing was opened, and the Trumpites surged forward onto Canadian soil. Reporters backed off as the hordes rushed to encircle the Inspector. They were screaming, bellowing, trying to intimidate. The Inspector merely looked around at them, with an expression of bemused contempt, lifted one hand, and beckoned them forward.
A shout rang out. “Kill the drummer, y’all!” The thousands of Trumpites surged forward, like something out of Lord Of The Rings- only Orcs aren’t this obnoxious. They converged on the Inspector like the sea crashing onto the shore- and there they were stopped. Reporters at a distance could see at the heart of the sea of Trumpites a hint of someone in red serge clutching a single Trumpite by his legs, using that Trumpite as a bludgeon to strike every nearby Trumpite in a circle. There seemed to be a pause among the screaming Trumpites- and then a realization that everything was going wrong.
Within a half hour, sixty thousand Trumpites were down, with broken bones, bloody noses, bruised bodies, and many tears. One man stood triumphant over the fallen after what has come to be known as the Battle Of Del Bonita. It was Lars Ulrich, his fists bloody, his uniform dishevelled, a pleased expression in his eyes. Reporters who witnessed the scenes weren’t that surprised. Arrests were made, and thousands of Trumpites now find themselves behind bars, awaiting bail hearings that might take months. It might well keep them from voting in the November elections.
The candidate didn’t take things well. Reporters on the trail of the Trump campaign saw him at a distance, receiving the news from his aides. Trump looked on the verge of a stroke, yelling- even louder than his usual way of speaking. “Sixty thousand people under arrest??? How the **** was I supposed to know one guy could beat the crap outta sixty thousand people??? I mean, we're talking about an over the hill heavy metal drummer!!!” One of his aides said something too quiet to be heard. “Whaddya mean he did this before? Whaddya mean he's not that Lars Ulrich? Who the **** didn’t tell me that???” He was pacing now, his orange face turning red. “I can’t pay the legal bills for sixty thousand stupid dumbass ****ers! I got everything to my name tied up in this campaign thanks to that crazy bet, and if I lose, I lose everything!!!” It was only now that he seemed to notice the onlooking reporters. “Hey! You mother****ers didn’t hear anything!”
The last word in this story belongs to another tycoon, albeit one with personal dignity. Bill Gates, the Microsoft co-founder, spoke with reporters about the matter. “I made a bet with Trump a couple of years ago,” he quietly explained. “If he wins the presidency, I have to pay him one single dollar. If he loses the election, every single cent he ever made gets donated to the charity, or charities, of my choice. I’m thinking of a whole list of charities that he would absolutely hate. Interfaith charities, Greenpeace, women’s groups, immigration aid groups, the whole nine yards. Trump and I have an iron clad contract on this bet, so there’s no way he can back out of it. I suppose it never occurred to his over inflated ego that he might lose.”
Gates smiled. “Best bet I’ve ever made.”