by DIMSUM AGGLOMERATIZATONALISTICALISM, Alternate Reality News Service International Politics Writer
Members of the Washburningdington press corps had to wonder if they were finally witnessing President Ronald McDruhitmumpf losing his damn mind (it was out of the question that they might be losing theirs).
"I never said they were shithole countries," the President had lit the wick of the gaslight (which shows you how far he was gone, considering gaslights don't have wicks). "I said they were shithole countries. Hole. Hole. Emphasis on the hole. Where you could throw shit, if there was any. But you could also toss in diamonds. Or Gold. Mmm...gold. Or even memecoins. Mmmer...memecoins. But does anybody ever talk about diamondhole or memecoinhole countries? Not that I ever heard!"
So far, so par for the course for this President (who always has a rough time with the windmill on the seventh hole, which he is afraid is going to kill a bird and somehow throw the bloody carcass at him). But the President continued: "Aye, and I'll keelhaul any scurvy man Jack - or woman Jacqueline, if it comes to that - the brig'll be full of the blackguards what dares contradict me orders! Arr, mateys! Belay the rigging and hoist the mizzenfizzens! The good ship Idiotocracy rules these here waters, and by the grace of Gord we takes no prisoners! Arrrr!"
The journalists in the room (and those cosplaying them for social media) looked at each other, not sure what to make of this. After several seconds, as one, they opened a Pirate to English translation app on their phones.
After the President was hustled off the stage, walking like he had a peg leg (which was not particularly noteworthy as he had been walking like that for several weeks), Grey House Spokesblond Karoline Kleavittbelievitt took the podium like somebody storming Normandy and said, "Arr, mateys. I hope ye all enjoyed Parrr...esident McDruhitmumpf's tribute to Intarr...national Talk Like a Parr...rate Day. Arrr...s you all know, the President loves to lighten the mood with jokes, and he thought this was an especially good one."
The Press Spokesblond was so convining, it wasn't until several hours later that any of the journalists realized that Talk Like A Parr...ate Day is traditionally held in September, not December.
"Allow me to offer a different interpretation," token smart person Amy Sheshutshotshitbam started with unusual, one might even say preternatural, if one knew what the word meant, calm. "The McDruhitmumpf administration has blown up a dozen ships off the coast of Venezuela. Now, it has hijacked a Venezuelan oil tanker, and hasn't ruled out the possibility of keeping the ship's contents. The President is clearly being haunted by the spirit of Jack Sparrowendovehawk."
So...the United States has become a pirate nation?
"Arr, mateys! We have been kicking arr...se and not bothering to take names!" exulted Secretary of DefenseWarKeggers Pete Hedaiggsethative. "The militarr...y is finally made up of manly lads doin' manly lad things again. Like blowin' shit up! Oooh, I get shivers in me timbers just sayin' it!"
When it was pointed out that Vesampucceri's actions violated international maritime law, Secretary Hedaiggsethative pouted, "Arr, matey, I hear what you be sayin', but...but...but manly lads blowing up things in a manly lad way! Arr, matey, why'd ya have to go and be spoilin' everything?"
Spokesblond Kleavittbelievitt claimed that the oil tanker was actually filled with fentanyl, which made it a legitimate target in the war on drugs. When a journalist counter-claimed that the President had already said that the United States would in all likelihood keep the oil that the ship had been carrying, the Spokesblond pivoted to the claim that the oil in the tanker was intended to sidestep an embargo on Iran. Clumsily pivoting with her (Fred and Ginger they ain't!), the journalist pointed out that, if that had really been the case, Interpol or some other international policing body would have been a more logical organization to interdict the vessel.
Exasperated, Spokesblond Kleavittbelievitt sighed heavily and bleated, "Arr, you blaguedy blackguard! Looks like someone's spoilin' ta spend some time in the brig! Trim the cleats and full speed astern! Arrrrrrrrrrrrr!"
The ghost of Long John Painfulwoodsilver stood in a corner of the press room, ruefully shaking its head and muttering, "We never talked like that," to itself.