Donald Trump Says 3 Christmas Ghosts Visited Him Last Night
A Trumpy parody of "A Christmas Carol"
Former President Donald Trump apparently woke up early this morning because he posted an elaborate story on his social media company Truth Social telling of having been visited by three Christmas ghosts last night.
The following is his series of extended “Truths” explaining his ordeal:
“1/6: Last night the strangest thing happened to me, and it has had a tremendous effect on my plans for the future! It started off while I was doing work at Mar-a-Lago, and Eric was complaining that I was making him work on Christmas Eve, and how he was freezing because I wouldn’t turn up the heat, and how he wasn’t comfortable signing by himself all the financial disclosures that the Trump Organization was submitting to the IRS. So I started yelling at him about how easy he has it, and how my dad was way more tough with me than I’ve ever been with him. He started tearing up a little so I told him I was docking his paycheck $1,000 for being a loser. Then my son-in-law Jared Kushner came into my office and invited me to a Hanukkah dinner. I have always loved my daughter Ivanka, but Jared owes me some of that $2 billion he got from the Saudis, and is refusing to give me my cut. After all, it was my administration that let him go to Saudi Arabia so many times on government planes in the last few months of my presidency. But he’s hogging all the money, and it’s not like I can sue him because then everyone will find out the details of the deals we made with Mohammed bin Salman that were maybe not as squeaky clean as we’ve claimed. So I screamed at him to get out of my office. Besides, my polls for 2024 are not doing so well, and I can’t afford to lose the Nazi vote, so breaking bread with a bunch of Jewish globalists would ruin some of the Nazis’ enthusiasm to participate in another coup attempt for me if I lose the next presidential election.”
“2/6: Finally I went home and got into bed, cracked open a Diet Coke, and fell asleep to the soft, relaxing sound of Newsmax hosts calling for all my political enemies to be tried for treason. But then I was suddenly awakened by the sound of chains crashing into my floor, and discovered it was my father, Fred Trump, somehow back from the dead. At first I assumed I was imagining him, perhaps because of some indigestion from eating too much fried chicken at lunch, or maybe my late night snack of two Big Macs had upset my stomach. But he shook my bed, slapped my face, and called me a loser in the same way I had called Eric a loser earlier that day. He then told me the chains he was wearing were forged throughout his lifetime of greed and assholery, and he warned me the chains I was currently forging were much longer and heavier than his own. He warned that I was going to be visited by three ghosts that night, and that, if I didn’t learn from any of their lessons, I was doomed to wander forever carrying chains in the afterlife like him.”
“3/6: The first ghost to visit me was the Ghost of Christmas Past, and this ghost took me to a Christmas day a long time ago. It was when Don Jr., Ivanka, and Eric were all very little, and I was still married to Ivana. We all played games, and were so happy. I sat there with Ivanka sitting on my lap smiling the biggest smile of my life as she told me she wanted to someday marry someone just like me, and Don Jr. was showing me the D.A.R.E. pledge he signed at school vowing he’d never do drugs, and Eric was sitting on the floor precociously playing with a science experiment kit involving thermometers and various elemental substances I got him for Christmas because all the teachers agreed he was the smartest student in all of his classes. It was the best Christmas of my life because it was before Ivanka got into puberty and became interested in other boys, before Don Jr. stopped ‘giving the cold shoulder’ to drugs, and before Eric put one of those thermometers in his mouth, accidentally broke it, and swallowed all the mercury forever poisoning his brilliant, developing brain. Then the Ghost of Christmas Past snapped his fingers, and took me to a different place where I was having an affair behind Ivana’s back. It was the first sexual liaison me and this woman had that didn’t take place in the dark of night with the lights off, and she shrieked when she saw me naked in the light of day. She screamed, ‘Ew, get that mushroom away from me! Is that some kind of freaky STD? Have you infected me with it?’ Then the ghost kept rewinding and replaying her screaming at me over and over, at least ten times, until I yelled out for the ghost to take me back home! In a very haunted voice, the ghost reminded me that, from that night on, I’d never have sex ever again without having to pay for it and first getting the woman to sign a nondisclosure agreement.”
“4/6: After that, I was visited by the Ghost of Christmas Present, who took me to Jared and Ivanka’s Hanukkah party. They were all having a great time eating and laughing, and then they started playing a game of 20 Questions. I got really into it until it slowly dawned on me that the answer to the round of the game was me! Once they figured out the subject was a politician, they started asking questions like ‘Is he racist and divisive,’ ‘has he ever lost reelection?’ and ‘are his hands the size of a toddler’s?’ They all laughed at me, even Ivanka, who raised her glass for a toast, and announced they should all drink in honor of the fact that she and Jared retired from politics and no longer had to make up excuses for my behavior, like my having dinners with Nazis, or scamming my supporters with dumb trading card NFTs. It made me a little sad to think my beloved daughter doesn’t respect me. Then the ghost took me to Eric’s house, where his family was eating a meager meal because I dock his pay every time he does something like a loser, which is roughly every ten minutes. Eric was telling his kids about how much he loved them all, and how he wanted to break the cycle of the Trump family’s history of paternal abuse. Then his kids started asking questions about why I was so mean to him all the time. One asked, ‘What’s semen, and why does Grandpa always call you a waste of it?’ Then another asked, ‘Why does Grandpa always put blue sugar in his nose and snort it? I’ve heard of a sweet tooth, but not a sweet nostril!’ But Eric told his kids that Grandpa was abused emotionally as a child by his dad, and that’s why he can’t help himself but be a mean jerk to everyone in the same way. Eric then explained that it wasn’t Grandpa’s fault that he didn’t get enough love as a child, but the lack of parental affection has left him unable to open up his heart and love others like a normal, emotionally healthy person. Then Eric opened up his arms to hug all his kids, and told them that he’d always love them no matter what, and that he’d never be mean to them like Grandpa is to him. I was silent while watching, and sniffed a little, at which point the ghost asked me what was wrong. I told the ghost it was nothing, but that maybe, possibly, I had been a little cruel to Eric earlier in the day. The ghost started laughing at me with a big, deep laugh, and I commanded him to stop. The ghost then removed me from Eric’s house, and I suddenly found myself in a cold, dark alley. Behind me I heard some dragging footsteps, and turned around to discover two emaciated children creepily walking toward me. The ghost told me their names were Treason and Insurrection, and I should beware them. The children were growling terrible sounds, and I started to run away, but the alleyway was a dead-end. I turned around to see the children chasing after me like crazed zombies, and, right as the children nearly got to me, I blacked out and woke up back in my bed.”
“5/6: Finally the third ghost, the Ghost of Christmas Future, paid me his visit. His face was obscured in his great, big, black cloak, and he didn’t say a word to me. I shouted out for him to show his face, but he just raised his gaunt skeleton hand and pointed at me. I demanded again he show himself, and asked if he was Stephen Miller playing one of his ‘I’m-gonna-murder-you’ pranks on me, but he walked toward me with his bony finger until he touched my forehead. Then suddenly I found myself at Mar-a-Lago, but it was empty and dusty. I asked the ghost to explain what happened to all of my belongings, but he just pointed again, this time down the stairs to the main lobby where I discovered Melania and all my kids talking. ‘It’s too bad he never actually was a real billionaire,’ said Ivanka, ‘and all this gold stuff is cheap, gaudy, and fake.’ Then Don Jr. said, ‘After the estate pays off all his debts, and makes all the back payments for the tax fraud, we won’t even inherit enough money to buy a dime bag of coke.’ Melania spoke next, and said, ‘You think you’re disappointed, I spent two miserable decades married to that disgusting, orange slob waiting for him to die and leave me the money, but clearly that money never existed, and I wasted my best years pretending it didn’t fill me with revulsion every time he tried to hold my hand in public.’ Then Ted Cruz and Steve Bannon walked into the lobby, and Ted explained that I had made him do a lot of ‘Sodom and Gomorrah stuff’ in exchange for me endorsing him in the next election, and that he was hoping they all would honor his humiliations by giving him their endorsement in lieu of mine. Steve Bannon announced he had only come by to grab the signed-by-Hitler copy of Mein Kampf he had let Trump borrow, and that he had used the upstairs toilet, but had managed to both miss a little and clog it. The ghost then snapped his bony finger, and transported me to an unkempt gravesite. It was foggy, but, as I walked closer to inspect the gravestone, I was horrified to find my name etched into the stone. It said ‘HERE LIES DONALD TRUMP, 1946–2027, FAIR & SQUARE LOSER OF 3 POPULAR VOTES.’ I let out a scream, and grabbed the ghost’s cloak. ‘Tell me it isn’t true!’ I demanded. ‘Ghost, tell me I’m not a loser! Tell me the elections were rigged, and I was cheated! Tell me I’m a winner!’ The ghost said nothing at first, and just started laughing the most terrifying cackle I’ve ever heard. He roared with laughter that shook my bones, and he began bellowing in the deepest voice I’ve ever heard the word ‘loser’ over and over until I covered my ears with my hands, and sobbed rolling around in the mud. I yelled out to the ghost that I would change my ways, and I begged him to take me back to my room so I could wake up in the morning and become a different man to avoid the prophesies I had seen!”
“6/6 At last I woke up in my bed, and was relieved to discover it had all been a dream. But how vividly the dream remained in my mind! And then I remembered Christmas. I wasn’t sure what day it was. Had I missed Christmas? I quickly got out of bed, and went downstairs where I found an oddly youthful servant I hadn’t remembered ever hiring. I said, ‘Boy, what day is it? Tell me at once!’ The boy said, ‘Dad, it’s Christmas.’ I giggled like a schoolboy. So I hadn’t missed Christmas! I started loudly laughing with glee, and shouted out ‘There’s still time!’ The boy said, ‘Dad, are you okay?’ so I reprimanded the servant for calling me ‘Dad,’ and I told him he was fired, and demanded to know who had hired such a young child for my house staff. He yelled out, ‘Mom, I think Dad did too much Adderall this morning,’ but I was too filled with relief that I hadn’t missed Christmas to further admonish this disobedient juvenile. I had so much I had to do to make good on my promise to the Ghost of Christmas Future! So I picked up my phone and made a bunch of calls to ensure that the vision of the unkempt gravestone recording for all of history that I was a loser would never, ever come true. I called Don Jr. and told him I was suing him for $5 billion for damages to my brand tarnishing my name with his drug habit; I called Ivanka and told her that because she was now over 40 and was Jewish, my new favorite daughter was Stephanie, or Bethany, or whatever her name is; I called Eric and told him to stop being so soft and loving with his kids because he was going to turn them into even bigger failures in life than he was; I called Melania and told her I was divorcing her because she was over 50, and that, while I had thought for a while the plastic surgery was making her hotter, I could now see she had done too many operations to the point where the creepy alien look in her eyes was making me start to worry Alex Jones was right when he once whispered to me that she may be a reptilian shapeshifter; I called Ted Cruz and told him that, even though he had done so many disgusting, violating, and criminal things for my endorsement, I was still never going to give it to him because his desperate eagerness to please me was without a doubt the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen in my life (and I’ve spent decades around Don Jr. and Eric!); and finally I called Steve Bannon and told him that, as long as he promised to bathe at least once a week, I was ready to agree to his plan to publicly deputize all the Proud Boys, Oath Keepers, 3 Percenters, and the 2nd Amendment people as ‘MAGA Knights’ to do another coup, fight against the US military, and make me King of America at any cost, even if a civil war levels all of America to the ground and every last American is murdered. So thanks to all the Christmas Ghosts last night for showing me the horrible future that could have awaited me had I not changed my ways. All my life I was being too soft, generous, humble, and obedient to the law, and I was about to let it ruin my legacy. There is no future more sad than a gravestone that says ‘LOSER,’ so I vowed this morning as soon as I woke up that I’d do whatever it takes to defeat all my enemies in 2024 and etch ‘WINNER’ myself on my gravestone with a pressure washer using as much blood of this great nation as it takes. As the Ghosts of Christmas as my witness, I will destroy all my enemies! God damn them, every one!”
Merry Christmas, happy holidays, and have a great summer solstice no matter how you celebrate it!
—Dash MacIntyre
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Kosher story. Reminds me of a dream story about Lenin and one deputy who is on vacation abroad for treatment.
Merry Christmas, Dash MacIntyre