The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny - Ep #5: "Balloons and Doorbells"

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & Singing Doorbell Haters Club)

Donnie: (looking around the treehouse admiringly)...finally this place is a little more tidy. (turns) Hey Be...Jesus! (bumps into and almost steps on Ben Carson who is stoically standing directly behind him)

Ben: Sir?

Donnie: Dammit Ben! I hate when you do that!

Ben: Do what sir?

Donnie: Sneak up on me! Like some sort of black ninja!

Ben: I didn't sneak up sir. You called for me and I came.

Donnie: But I didn't even finish your name.

Ben: Just trying to anticipate sir.

Donnie: Shit! Don't you have anything better to do?

Ben: Not really sir. I just come when you cal...

Donnie: ...aren't you in my cabinet?

Ben: Yes sir. Right next to the dinner plates and the coffee mugs.

Donnie: He He He! Nice one. That shit doesn't get old...but NO, don't you have anything better to do?

Ben: Well I'm sure I do but it's just that...this housing and urban thing?...development?...it's just so much work and it's lots of poor people to worry about. I don't like poor people. Kind of depressing really.

Donnie: Ok, I'll give you that, but, well, YOU, Ben, of all people, really should be careful with that sneaking up...that...anticipation as you call it Ben. If you know what I mean?

Ben: I don't understand sir.

Donnie: YOU Ben. Ya know. YOU? I mean I might take you for a...a uhhh....a mugger or something...or maybe someone waiting for a friend for coffee.

Ben: I still don't understand sir.

Donnie: (sigh... to self "still the fucking dumbest smart guy ever") You're still black right?

Ben: ?

Donnie: YOU'RE STILL BLACK RIGHT?!

Ben: Ohhhhhh, right, black...mugger...just a guy waiting for a friend for coffee...I get ya.

Donnie: Exactly. Wouldn't wanna accidentally (feverishly checking his pockets) get you shot or tased for possibly not resisting.

Ben: Good point. I would hate that. Did you lose something?

Donnie: (eventual sigh of relief - still has wallet & cell phone) What?...no...no. We bumped into each other is all. No, we're good. So I see the place has been cleaned up?

Ben: Yes sir. Managed to get those shrink wrapped pallets of kick back mon...

Donnie: Dues Ben. Club dues.

Ben: Oh Right. Dues. My bad. Managed to get them all down the tree and under your mattress in the residence. It wasn't easy though.

Donnie: Why?

Ben: Well the Secret Service. They get all prickly. "You want in the residence of the PRESIDENT why?" "You wanna hide stuff under the PRESIDENT'S mattress why? "That guy with you speaks Russian why?" "You want my foot off your neck why?" So many questions. They're really sticklers with this whole security thi...

Donnie: ...I know, seriously. It's really annoying. And it's not like I need it. I can take care of myself.

Ben: They spoon feed you apple sauce and meds sir and call you Treezy.

Donnie: Hey that's completely different...and between you and me. Plus, they like calling me Treezy, Kanye came up with it. Kind of a pet name thing and it's my "designation" when I'm "on the move" You told them you're my boy though right? After all the questions? What you're doing is on my orders right?

Ben: Yes...they still didn't like it thou...

Donnie: ...they're not paid to like it Ben. Just to loyally turn their heads when need be and keep my money from getting shot...keep ME, I mean, from gettin' shot by some fucking crazed liberal or worse.

Ben: Worse?

Donnie: Could be a brown one.

Ben: Oh, yes. Another good point sir. Brown. Be careful of the brown ones.

Donnie: Yeh, Miller warns me of the danger all the time.

Ben: Stephen is ever vigilant sir when it comes to brown.

Donnie: Writes some damn fine, fan the flames speeches for me too. Gets people all "Us vs Them" riled up. I love it!

Ben: Yes. He's quite the incendiary poet sir. A little creepy, but quite the poet.

Donnie: Just a little creepy?

Ben: Well, Ok, a lot creepy, but that's not for me to say.

Donnie: You just said it.

Ben: I did, didn't I?

Donnie: Yes. You did.

Ben: Sorry, nothing gets by you sir.

Donnie: No, it doesn't. And you're Ok. He really is a creepy little son a bitch.

Ben: Well, I'll let you say that sir.

Donnie: I just did. But he's MY creepy little son of a bitch.

Ben: Right you are. Good to have his creepy on our side. But back to our point, lowering everything down by rope can be quite challenging.

Donnie: You had help though, right?

Ben: Yes. I went to Home Depot like you said, early in the morning, found some day guys, loaded them in the White House pickup truck...

Donnie: (quick anger) The White House pickup truck!!!

Ben: (fearful) ...ummm, yes sir?...the White Hou...

Donnie: Jesus Christ Ben!! You can't use an official White House vehicle! Especially not the pickup truck!

Ben: But it was the old one sir, you know, that one that no one wants to drive because it's a money pit and breaks down all the time, needs an alignment 'cause it's always pulling to the right, has a Jesus bobblehead, can't pass emmissions regs and still has a Reagan sticker on it?

Donnie: (heavy sigh) Yes! Exactly! THAT pickup truck. But doesn't it still say White House on it?

Ben: It's faded.

Donnie: Whatever Ben. Faded or not it still says White House. You HAVE to use something a little more discreet next time. I mean, hell, you gotta have family members that have a beater for shit like this. I mean you all drive beaters right?

Ben: ?

Donnie: Never mind. You said it can be challenging?

Ben: Yes. Besides the difficulty of lowering everything down by rope those day guys were a little tough to give direction to.

Donnie: What's tough Ben? You just point at stuff, make some insistent hand gestures and then pay them cash when they're done. Fantasitc salads by the way.

Ben: I know that sir, one of my better lunches recently, I love the corn, but aren't there any government employees or others, ones that speak English, that could do the job? Any that could use the overtime or just USE the work?

Donnie: Whoa there Benny Boy! Don't go gettin' all maverick on me with this talk of overtime...and no, they won't do the job. Some shit about it being below them. Plus this is tax free. Promise the cash, get the job done, and drive 'em back to Home Depot...done...but in a DIFFERENT pickup truck next time.

Ben: Noted.


(Treehouse doorbell rings in tune "Someone's knockin' at the door, Somebody's ringin' the bell")

Donnie: What the fuck is that?

Ben: Ummmm, a doorbell sir?

Donnie: I get that Ben! But when the hell did we get a doorbell? A singing fucking doorbell?

Doorbell: "Someone's knockin' at the door, Somebody's ringin' the bell")

Ben: When "Zoo" Zinke ordered you that new impressive door for the Treehouse here they threw in a doorbell. A fancy one that sings.

Doorbell: "Do me a favor, Open the door and let 'em in" 

Donnie: It IS a nice door.

Ben: It really is.

Donnie: Cool tune too.

Ben: I know.

Donnie: Is that a Beatle?

Ben: I think so sir.

Donnie: Loved those guys. Sad that they weren't American.

Ben: I agree.

Donnie: They SHOULD have been American. We should have forced them to be American.

Ben: I continue to agree, though this was McCartney solo.

Donnie: What?

Ben: This was Paul McCartney solo sir. He wasn't a Beatle then.

Donnie: Oh. good. 'Cause if he was I would have called for his birth certificate.

Ben: Why sir?

Donnie: To prove he wasn't American...duh.

Ben: But we already knew he wasn't Ameri...

Donnie: Ben?!!

Ben: Gotcha.

Donnie: So does this special Zinke door have one of those eye thingys?

Ben: ?

Doorbell (again): "Someone's knockin' at the door. Somebody's ringin' the bell"

Donnie: Eye thingys Ben. You know, to see who's on the other side of the door?

Ben: Oh, yes. Right there. (pointing to the middle of the door)

Doorbell: "Someone's knockin' at the door. Somebody's ringin' the bell"

Donnie: (peering through eye thingy) It's a guy with...balloons?

Ben: (pretending surprise) Oh....REALLY??...a guy with balloons??...I wonder what HE could POSSSIBLY want?? Maybe you should let him in?

Donnie: Well, alrig...

Doorbell: "Do me a favor, Ope..."

Donnie: SHUT UP DOORBELL!!!...

Doorbell: "...n and let 'e......." (dying doorbell sound)

Donnie: ...Wow, that was cool for like 5 seconds. Really, should I let him in?

Ben: (with a wide smile) I think you should.


(balloon messenger enters singing)


"Oh say Ken-nedy, by the dawn's backwards light..."


Donnie: Singing?

Ben: It's a thing sir. Or it used to be. All about throwback these days.



"...what so Duetsche bank we bor-rowed, at the twilight of democracy.

Whose broad strokes of court's pen, a loyal future so bright

what a gift was brought us, through an unright partisan fight"


Donnie: Wow, this guy's got some lungs

Ben: I know huh?


"And the rockets..."


Donnie: Ooooooh, I like rockets.

Ben: I know you do sir.

Donnie: Think we can parade them?

Ben: Oh. I'm sure we can sir.


"...and the rockets red flair, Putin tousling my hair..."


Donnie: Damn, this is good.

Ben: Chills sir.


"...gave proof to the right, that our flag was still my prop..."


Donnie: That one is a little off.

Ben: Yeh, just a bit

Donnie: Not the lyric. it just came off a bit...flat ya know?

Ben: With ya sir


"...Oh say does that red, white and no blue banner yeeeeeeeet Maaaaagaaaaa..."

"...O'er..." (singer stops) Hold on. Favorite part. I love singing "O'er"


Donnie: Love hearing it!


"...O'er the land of wealthy elite...and the home of the...whoever's dumb enough to buy into my cult of personality and follow me down autocracy road"

Donnie: Bravo!! Though that last bit didn't really fit. A little long I think.

Singer: Sorry sir. Got carried away.

Donnie: It's Ok son. Let those sons of bitches kneel to that! Inspiring! Do you have any young girls in matching shirts who can sing it with you?

Singer: I'm sure I could find some.

Donnie: A family of sisters?

Singer: No problem sir.

Donnie: Brown shirts?

Singer: Certainly sir.

Donnie: Great! I'll call Laura. Kellyanne too. They'll be Sooooooo excited. The balloons are very cool too. Square. Very retro I'm guessing? Turn of the centrury images of sweat shops are a nice touch.

Ben: That was my idea. They're even filled with hydrogen for effect.

Donnie: (pat on the head) this calls for a cigar.

Ben: Careful with that cigar sir.

Donnie: Clam it Ben.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

Donnie: (aside) You got any cash on ya?

Ben: ?

Donnie: For a tip numbnuts.

Ben: Oh right. (confused) What?...You tip?

Donnie: Never. But It'll be your money and look like me.

Ben: Smart sir.

Donnie: I know.

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny - Ep #4: "Not Action Figures"

(Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & Action Figure Haters Club)

Token Ben Carson: Sir?

Donnie: What?

Ben: You really shouldn't stand on the top step.

Donnie: What?

Ben: The step ladder. You really shouldn't stand on the top step. There's even a warning on th...

Donnie: Warning? What the hell does Trump care about warnings? (whispering to himself with a smirk "warnings, hah!") That's why we deregulate. Wait, who the hell are you?

Ben: Ben sir. Ben Carson.

Donnie: You're black right?

Ben: Yes.

Donnie: OOOOhhhh, THAT Ben. Right, yes I remember. I like that. Part of my cabinet right?

Ben: Yes sir

Donnie: And black?

Ben: Yes...again sir.

Donnie: Man I'm good. I should point that out in a tweet. (self noting "black guy in my cabinet...man I'm good")

Ben: You probably already have.

Donnie: Cabinet. That's funny.

Ben: What sir?

Donnie: Cabinet. It's just funny. "you're in my cabinet" It's like I have you guys above the counter in my kitchen next to the dinner plates and coffee mugs or something. "Hey Melania, we're having a thing, an important thing, yea, wear something skimpy, break out the dinner plates from the 'cabinet' but don't grab Ben or Munchkin by mistake! Ha Ha Ha.

Ben: It's Mnuchin sir.

Donnie: What? What the hell are you talking about?

Ben: His name is Mnuchin, not Munchkin. Plus, he's tall.

Donnie: I was making a funny Ben!

Ben: Oh, yes, you were, my sides hurt. Lot's of laughter here sir. It's just that his name isn't Munch...

Donnie: ...yes I get it Ben. (aside "fucking kill-joy...plus that guy's name is just stupid"...trailing off... "cabinet...don't grab by mistake...that's a "my"person not a tea cup...ha ha ha")

Ben: If you don't mind my pointing out sir...you're still on the top step...could be dangerous.

Donnie: You still here?

Ben: Yes sir.

Donnie: Danger's nothing to me Ben.

Ben: Oh, I know that...you don't, you wouldn't flinch in the face of it sir. Even without a gun. It's just that...

Donnie: ...you got that right!...I don't flinch...I'd just run right in...it's just that what Ben?

Ben: Well, I just don't want you to fall...you, know...twist an ankle or get a spur or something like that.

Donnie: Hey! Trumps don't fall Ben!!! We don't twist ankles BEN!! Or spur!! We laugh in the face of spur. And if we do fall, or spur, that's what we intended, so THEY can suck it!

Ben: They?

Donnie: Yeh, they.

Ben: Who's they?

Donnie: They Ben!! They. Them. Those. THEY! All of them! All of them that aint us.

Ben: Ummm...(worry) Us?

Donnie: Don't worry Ben. I'll save you. You're a good "they, them. those." My laundry?

Ben: All done.

Donnie: Great. Still black?

Ben: Still am, five minutes later.

Donnie: Good! I'll hold you up as an example.

Ben: Thank you sir.

Donnie: You're welcome.

Ben: So what are the action figures for?

Donnie: (hemming) uhhh...action figures?

Ben: Yeh, you have them them all lined up...right here in front of your step ladder on...are those pews?

Donnie: Yes..No...they're not action figures and those are just pallets. Pallets. It's a treehouse Ben. You make do with what you have. Old pallets, old shoeboxes of rocks, old politcal planks for the ladder up the tree, It's just part of the fun.

Ben: Oh, I see it now. pallets, not pews. But they're pallets loaded with cash. Shrink wrapped.

Donnie: Just dues.

Ben: Dues?

Donnie: Just leave it at that Ben. Dues. Need a couple of bucks for the office?

Ben: No, I'm good sir.

Donnie: You sure? You haven't been eying anything up? You and your wife? Does she need a job?

Ben: No, our 'cabinets' are full sir.

Donnie: Oh, now you made a funny.

Ben: I did. Well, OK then. Thank you sir.

Donnie: Do they look like they're sitting up?

Ben: ?

Donnie: My...ummm...chess pieces

Ben: Chess pieces?

Donnie: The action fig...chess pieces. Yeh, chess pieces...in a game of chess.

Ben: Not action figures?

Donnie: Definitely not action figures. Did you know I played chess?

Ben: No I didn't. I'm impressed.

Donnie: Yes, love chess, I'm really good at it too. Genius's are good at chess. Not as challenging as checkers but I know the game. I dabble.

Ben: You are worldy that way.

Donnie: Yeh, they all want me to play chess. But I'm so good at it that I offer checkers instead. All of them take me up on it too. And I win. I always win Ben.

Ben: Do you get to King?

Donnie: Hop Hop stack stack Nuff said.

Ben: Another funny?

Donnie: (sigh)

Ben: They do look like they're sitting up though.

Donnie: (suddenly alert) They do?

Ben: Yes, but, I don't recognize this one.

Donnie: Skeletor?

Ben: No, this one.

Donnie: Stretch Armstrong?

Ben: No.

Donnie: Purple Pony?

Ben: No.

Donnie: Michael J Fox's Teen Wolf?

Ben: Really?

Donnie: Special collection. Very rare. One of a kind.

Ben: Wow, must be...No, none of those...this little fat one.

Donnie: Oh, the one with the big flashy Elton John glasses?

Ben: Yeh, weird haircut too.

Donnie: He's friends with Skeletor. They despot stuff together. Tough guys.

Ben: You really SHOULD hold on to something.

Donnie: What?

Ben: Hold on to something. If you're going to stand on the top step, you really should hold on to something.

Donnie: Ben (getting tired of the conversation) I can't hold on to "something" with my arms outstretched like this above my adoring actio...chess pieces.

Ben: I know that sir, but this isn't a carnival ride.

Donnie: It is if yell "Whoooooooooooo!"

Ben: SIR!!!


(crashing sounds and tumbling onto the floor of the treehouse as the step ladder gives way)


Donnie: Shit!!! (crash...moan)

Ben: (rushing over) Oh my god sir, are you alright?!

Donnie: (moan moan moan)

Ben: Sir!!!

Donnie: (moan) I think I may have broken something. How's my hair?

Ben: Ummmm...it's fine

Donnie: You sure? some follicles feel broken, or at least frayed.

Ben: No, you're fine...and there's shampoo for that.

Donnie: Were they still sitting up?

Ben: What?...who sir?

Donnie: My action fig...my chess pieces?

Ben: Yeh...sure.

Donnie: When I went "Whoooooooooooo!"

Ben: Yes, they're still sitting up.

Donnie: (whew) good, at least there is that.

Ben: ?

Donnie: Sit up Ben.

Ben: ?? Oh right. Sitting up sir.

Donnie: Good

2018 Tony Red Carpet - An Overload of Fancy

I haven't worked a gig for Spectrum for a quite a while now (things change) but when I got the call I was all in. Not just for the obvious paycheck, but because it was the Tony's. Why not take in the experience of celebrity that some find so fascinating? See what it is that makes people line up for just a glimpse? The young girl in a pretty orange dress with cool classy combat boots who was there for hours holding her spot? The tall casper looking guy who could use some sun in the too big Sixers baseball cap with the too big shorts and the too big untied sneaks? I have no idea why he was there other than maybe he thought all the commotion was over a car wreck. The touristy passersby who held their cells above their heads while, of course, passing by, recording what they would wait till later to look at on the bus, hoping it would be something they could show the folks back home? Cheers to them.

It started with a block long wall of styrofoam and chicken wire that eventually turned into an overload of beautifully flowered fancy. A huge group effort meticulously taking thousands upon thousands of single cut roses and green leaves and placing them into this wall of styrofoam and chicken wire. This flowered wall still resonates with me both in it's impressive beauty but also in it's over the top indulgence. And, of course understand, there's only so much a "non" fancy guy like me can take, from tops to toes, dresses to dressings, fanciful to fanci-what the fuck, but it was still a night to remember. Could I just as easily forget it on the way home on the train with a good (as always) Neil Gaiman book? Sure, shit evens out that way. But there were eyelashes that could cut glass, makeup that could bring a smoky eye to tear with layers of regret, hugs and kisses that almost seemed real until you remembered where you were.

There were stars and there were grunts, people of place and people who just had a place. A place to make a living. I was one of the latter but I still found myself taking pictures, justifying that my sis, and maybe my nephews would think they were cool. But, to tell you the truth, I revelled in this, however much my cynicism might have made me smirk and attempt to be above the fancy fray, and however much that was possibly the longest freaking two hours ever (the actual day from wake to home was 19 hours. The event? Those really long two) I let myself snap a few shots.

Hell, someone even, at the end, brought a mountain goat in it's own mountain goat tux eating grapes which, kind of, in a weird appropriate way, put a cap on it. Who's to argue with that?

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny - Ep #3: "While The Cat's Away"

(Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & Cuddly Cat Haters Club)


Scott Pruitt: Jesus, this place is awful

Ben Carson: Why, what's wrong with it?

Scott: It's dusty, there's leaves and dirt all over the floor, doesn't anyone wipe their feet?...it's just so....treehousey...so common. Shit, I need a wipe. And is this lead paint?

Ben: I don't know, you're the guy who should know that right?

Scott: Watch your tone Ben, and yes, I do know, but it depends on the company and who I'm paying to have it (air quotes) "tested" and then, of course it depends on the relationship with the company that makes the paint etc...etc...it's a lot of what I do.

Ben: Did you just air quote?

Scott: Maybe. I just don't recognize this particular paint's...mmm...imprint you might say. It doesn't seem to have enough green.

Ben: Should we have it tested?

Scott: (air quotes) "tested" Ben. It's always "tested"

Ben: ummmm...?...ok...but if it is lead paint, isn't that dangerous?

Scott: You're funny Ben. It's complicated. You understand complicted right?

Ben: I am a neurosurgeon.

Scott: Right...of course you are...he doesn't eat the paint chips does he?

Ben: I don't know, he does snack a lot.

Scott: Could explain some things. Anyway I'll look into it. Just gotta make a couple of calls, but not here.

Ben: Why not?

Scott: Pretty obvious isn't it Ben? There's no booth.

Ben: ?

Scott: Never mind. I have a spot for calls back at my office. Plus we really should tidy up before he comes back.

Ben: Yeh when is that?

Scott: You never know. Depends on how quickly everyone abroad is reminded of how much they hate him.

Ben: So he could have been back before he left?

Scott: Very funny again Ben. You're a riot. No, we really should do something for him. Maybe buy him some new furniture here, spiff the place up.

Ben: How about a dining set. My wife knows a great place.

Scott: Great idea! Would it be bulletproof?

Ben: Huh?

Scott: This dining set place place your wife knows, do they carry any that are bulletproof?

Ben: Is that a thing?

Scott: It is when you're me. Lot's of crazies out there.

Ben: That wanna shoot up your dining room set?

Scott: You never know Ben. Ever vigilant I say, with a good solid piece of bulletproof furniture to cower behind. Important people can never be to careful you know.

Ben: Right, of course. Well I'll ask my wife to check. But it never really feels like he's gone anyway though, even when he is.

Scott : Yes he does have that kind of presence doesn't he?

Ben: What? No, that's not what I meant.

Scott: Then what?

Ben: It's that portrait of Andrew Jackson over his step ladder.

Scott: His step stool?

Ben: Yeh, every now and then he just stands on it, top step, I don't know why.

Scott: Well....alright, whatever. Probably to check out those shoeboxes on the bookshelf or change a lightbulb or something right?

Ben: No. He just stands on it, the top step, and stares out in the distance. Raises his arms.

Scott: Ok then...so what about this portrait?

Ben: I don't know, it's weird. Seems like the eyes follow you everywhere and it creeps me the hell out....all the way down to my ancestor's toes...though I don't know why.

Scott: You're black Ben

Ben: Oh, right. Makes more sense now.

(A cough sound from behind the portrait and the sound of falling stuff / cursing)

Ben: Hey, did you hear that?

Scott: Hear what?

Ben: It sounded like that Jackson painting just coughed and knocked over paint cans or something.

Scott: Sure it did Ben. I didn't hear anything.

Ben: It did, I swear!

Scott: Ok, look, your big neurosurgeon, dumbest smart guy ever brain is just overly tired Ben, maxed out, probably making you hear things...you've been working really hard.

Ben: You're right, I have.

Scott: Yes you have. (assuringly) It's not easy trying to fuck poor people by raising their rents in order to make them pick themselves up by their bootstraps.

Ben: No, it's not.

Scott: Especially when there's absolutely no logic to it.

Ben: I know, right?

Scott: Exactly. Now take a breath and let's get back to this cluttered mess here. I mean, what the hell are all these shoeboxes on the bookshelves anyway?

Ben: Don't touch those.

Scott: Why?

Ben: I don't know. He just said NOT to touch those.

Scott: You mean you haven't looked?

Ben: No. That would be bad.

Scott: You're not curious?

Ben: No, plus, doesn't curiousity kill stuff? I've heard that it does. Like cats?

Scott: You like cats do you Ben?

Ben: Oh, verrrry much. They're soft.

Scott: Yes they are Ben, very soft, and cuddly too right?

Ben: Yes, I like cuddly.

Scott: I'm sure you do Ben, but you're right. Curiousity does kill stuff...a LOT of stuff ...that's why we leave curiousity to the "experts", like me and lobbyists.

Ben: Did you just air quote that too?

Scott: No. (looking in the shoeboxes)...it's just rocks Ben, lots of rocks in lots of shoeboxes on bookshelves instead of books Ben.

Ben: Any of them small rocks? Small enough to be gravel?

Scott: What? Gravel?

Ben: Yeh gravel, at our last meeting we....

Scott: Yes, well I wasn't at the last meeting Ben (sigh). Where's Jeff by the way? A "friend" of mine who's in some "difficulty" needs to "talk" to him.

Ben: You didn't air quote AGAIN just there, a LOT, did you?

Scott: Nope.

Ben: He's probably out on the balcony.

Scott: This treehouse has a balcony?

Ben: Yeh, just over there. Right outside one of the "Alice" doors.

Scott: "Alice" doors?

Ben: Special small doors for Jeff from the boss for some reason. I don't know. But the balcony overlooks a children's summer camp. He likes to go out there every now and then.

Scott: A kids's camp? Why?

Ben: I don't know, he says it's to think, to clear his head. Watching the kids helps I guess. Big hearted guy. He also said something about channeling Ralph Feinnes. Some sort of movie reference. I'm not a big movie guy.

Scott: No?

Ben: Though I did like "Concussion".

Scott: Right up your alley huh?

Ben: Yeh. It was about brains. And Will Smith is black.

Scott: I've noticed that. In all of his movies. He's black just like you right?

Ben: Ummm....yeh...exactly. Black. Do you think he voted for the boss?

Scott: Probably not Ben, he's one of those Hollywood elites.

Ben: Fucking elites....sorry, excuse my language sir.

Scott: It's alright Ben. You're allowed that. Especially when it comes to those fucking elites.



*Knock Knock



Scott: Were we expecting someone?

Ben: Wait! The coughing from behind the Andrew Jackson painting? Do you think someon...

Scott: NO I DON'T. I'll get it. (whispering to himself as he walks to the door 'wish I had something bulletproof to hide behind...just in case') (wary) Who's there?

Ryan Zinke: Ryan.

Scott: Zinke, is that you?

Zinke: Damn shootin' straight!

Scott: Hold on. Hey Ben? What's today's password?

Ben: Well...I don't know. The boss isn't here so we don....

Scott: You mean he didn't leave a password?

Ben: No.

Scott: Hold on Ryan....If. That. Is. You.

Zinke: If. That. Is. Me? What the hell are you talking about?

Scott: What's the password?

Zinke: Password? I just heard you ask Ben if there was one.

Scott: No you didn't.

Zinke: Yes I did.

Scott: No YOU didn't

Zinke: YES I DID. It's a treehouse Scott. The walls are pretty fucking thin.

Scott: Well if there WAS a password what would it be?

Zinke: Are you fucking serious?! You know I just got an NRA tattoo on my ass and I'm armed right? To the nines and 47's and you've got no bulletproof shit to hide behind Pruitt! Plus we've got a situation here!

Scott: Situation, Shmittuation. (aside) Ben, what would the password be?

Ben: I don't know...ummm....treacle?

Scott: Treacle?!

Ben: What? I like sweet stuff.

Scott: You're not English Ben!

Ben: I am black though.

Scott: Yes, and the boss appreciates that....c'mon!

Ben: How about "Cuddly"? We were talking cuddly earlier.

Scott: *exasperated

Zinke: You know I can STILL hear you right?!

Ben: I got it! (whispers in Pruitt's ear) The password is "Extinct"

Scott: Ooooh, that's a good one...Ok, Zinke...If. That. Is. Really. You...what's the password?

Zinke: Extinct.

Scott: Damn this guy is good.

Zinke: (bursts through the door) You are both idiots. And where's the door I ordered for here for me to make my bursting through appear more impressive?! And what the fuck is going on? I told you, we have a situation.

Scott: And?  The boss is gone, we passworded you, and quite effectively I might add, you came in. Done. What "situation" tops that?

Zinke: Sessions is trying to pick off kids in that camp next door...

Scott: ....woahhh!...

Zinke: ...and his aim is ALL off...

Scott: ...crap...

Zinke: ...and since when does he smoke while shooting?...

Scott: ...I don...

Zinke: ...we gotta get this guy to the range...

Scott: ...uhhhh...

Zinke: ....fucking amateurs...

Ben: ...have you seen my cat?...

Scott: ...you have a cat here?...

Zinke: ...was he furry?...

Ben: ...well, yes...

Zinke: ...cuddly?...

Scott: ...seriously, you have a cat here? I thought that was metaphorical...

Ben: ...oh yes, very much so...very furry AND cuddly...

Zinke: I shot it.

Ben: ...oh...

Zinke: ...it's been extincted...

Ben: ...oh...(single tear falls)

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny - Ep #2: "Bang the Gravel"

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & Gavel Haters Club)

Donnie: Alright, this meeting of the He-Man Truth Haters Club will now be ordered. Jeff, bang your gravel.

Jeff: It's gavel.

Donnie: What?

Jeff: It's gavel, not gravel.

Donnie: That's what I said.

Jeff: No, you said gravel, small stones, what you meant was gavel. Kinda like a little mallet.

Donnie: What I meant? Are you trying to tell me what I meant, like I was wrong? Are you correcting me Jeff?

Jeff: No sir, not at all. Just pointing out that to bring the meeting to order you want a gavel.

Donnie: Really.....JEFF? Maybe Trump's changing this PC gavel crap Jeff  'cause he's Trump. Maybe Trump meant exactly what he said.......JEFF. Maybe Trump meant to order this meeting with gravel and not some big headed tiny little elf stick. Ben!

Token Carson: Yes sir?

Donnie: Climb down the tree and get me some GRAVEL. But not small stones, I want big gravel.
Gotta be big Trump gravel.

Ben: Ummm...ok, but then technically speaking it's not really gravel anymo...

Donnie: ...(glaring) don't use your big brain, just go get me some BIG gravel Ben. And paint it gold before you get back.

Ben: Yes sir.


Jeff: Should we wait for him?

Donnie: For who?

Jeff: Ben, sir.

Donnie: Ben who?

Jeff: Carson. Ben Carson. You just sent him down the tree to get you some gravel? So we can start the meeting?

Donnie: Oh Ben, right. What's he do again?

Jeff: He's in charge of HUD.

Donnie: Really? Housing and urban something?

Jeff: Yes.

Donnie: Is urban really a part of it? I don't like urban.

Jeff: I know sir, but yes.

Donnie: Well ok, it is what it is. Does he know what he's doing?

Jeff: Housing? No clue...but he has a really nicely afforded new office.

Donnie: As nice as Pruitt's?

Jeff: No...none of us seem to rate that sir.

Donnie: Yeh I know...wait...I'm President. I don't rate that...and in spades? (aside whisper "I gotta get me some of that bulletproof shit")

Jeff: Funny turn of phrase sir.

Donnie: What?

Jeff: Spades...never mind. He may not have not a clue sir, but he's a neurosurgeon.

Donnie: Really? Neurosurgegeon? They're smart right?

Jeff: Well yes...they do surgery on brains. Lots of schooling.

Donnie: Lots of schooling? Fucking elites. Are any of his brains bigger than mine?

Jeff: Well I don't know abo....

Donnie: ANY BIGGER THAN MINE?!

Jeff: Ummm, no of course not. Yours is the biggest.

Donnie: Damn right it is. All that elitist schooling couldn't help with a brain the size of mine. Maybe if there were a trade school for brains though, you know, an apprenticeship where they learn hands on, nuts to bolts, bolts to brains with guys that are like, I don't know, brain mechanics.

Jeff: Well in some regards that's kind of what medical shcooling is. Lots of study and residencies with experienced doctors in working hospitals.

Donnie: But it's not a TRADE school is it Jeff? A school where they learn a trade is it.....JEFF? An everyday blue collar, brain mechanic school where they learn from blue collar guys who voted for me because they felt their trade was being disenfranchised by the elites at colleges who were stealing their jobs and livelihoods is it JEFF!!??

Jeff: No...you're absolutely right sir. Those brain mechanic Trade schools have been overlooked for far too long. And you're their voice sir.

Donnie: I'm their voice. Exactly! I'm their voice. I like that. Where's Betsy?

Dippy DeVoss: Right here sir.

Donnie: You been here the whole time?

Dippy: Of course sir. Right in the corner where you put me earlier. You invited me to the meeting.

Donnie: I did? You have scrapes on your knee.

Dippy: The tree is a bit of a climb sir.

Donnie: Shit, thought it might have been something else to get me in trouble. I miss the 80's. Well, it's good to work for it. How come you haven't added anything?

Dippy: Added anything to what sir?

Donnie: Li'l Jeff (Jeff sigh) and I talking about schooling and trades and how brain mechanics have been overlooked for too long.

Dippy: Schooling?

Donnie: Yes, schooling. That's what you do right? Didn't I put you in charge of schools?

Dippy: Oh yes, right, schooling. Absolutely. You're right...schooling...that's what I'm in charge of...I am. Must have zoned out a bit on the word shcooling. Just doing the Lord's work sir.

Donnie: That you are. Speaking of that, have we legislated the Bible as mandatory history and science text yet?

Dippy: Working on it sir. That's my big project.

Donnie: Taxpayer funded?

Dippy: Of course.

Donnie: Good, go back to your corner.

Dippy: Thank you sir. It's a good corner. God's in it.

Donnie: Of course he is...he likes me right?

Dippy: Who sir?

Donnie: This God guy. He likes me right?

Dippy: Oh, I'm sure he does.

Donnie: What? You don't know?

Dippy: Well, I don't REALLY talk to him directly but I'm sure he does.

Donnie: I've had breakfast with him you know.

Dippy: Yes, I know.

Donnie: Fine fucking breakfast. And not just bagels and coffee. A REAL breakfast. With important God people.

Dippy: I know sir. Always impressive.

Donnie: You still here?

Dippy: Yes....No. Not here anymore. Corner.

Donnie: Good.

*Knock Knock

Donnie: Who's there?

Ben: Ben.

Donnie: Ben who?

Ben: It's Ben too long?

Donnie: (cue sitcom canned laughter and a cheesy Trump thumbs up orange grin close up)...(pause)...Why are you carrying a box of rocks?

Ben: Irony sir?

Donnie: ???????....(more canned laughter) ... Ok, let's add and urn and take this meeting up next week. See you then.

Jeff: Next wednesday?

Donnie: No, let's make it next Tuesday. I've still got a bone to pick with Samantha Bee.

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny - Ep #1: "What's The Password?"

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth Haters Club)

Jeff: (practically breathless) Donnie, open up, it’s me Jeff.

Donnie: Jeff who?

Jeff: Sessions. Your AG?

Donnie: You wearing those little monogrammed jackboots of yours?

Jeff: Not today.

Donnie: Damn, and they’re so cute. You sound out of breath. What’s wrong?

Jeff: The boards you’ve nailed into the tree are too far apart, it’s a really tough climb.

Donnie: Not my fault. Maybe I should call some bleeding heart Dems to sue over our Tree House not being elf accessible.

Jeff: Funny, no we’re fine, I’m here.

Donnie: You’re at the wrong door.

Jeff: Whattaya mean wrong door?

Donnie: You can’t use that one.

Jeff: Why not?

Donnie: Because your door is over there to the left.

Jeff: What, that little one?

Donnie: Yeh, The “Alice” door. Now what’s today’s password?

Jeff: I didn’t know there was one.

Donnie: Of course there’s a password Lil’ Jeff, it’s a clubhouse, clubhouses have passwords. Duh.

Jeff: Lil’ Jeff?

Donnie: I know, very street cool huh? Now what’s the password?

Jeff: I have no idea.

Donnie: C’mon it’s easy. Something very top of mind for me these days and there’s really not a lot up there.

Jeff: Ummmmm…..

Donnie: Hey Mr. recusal, you want me bashing you on twitter again?! Just guess!!

Jeff: Ok, hold on…you claim to be friends with Tom Brady right? – is it Spygate?

Donnie: THAT'S Spygate?....No

Jeff: Wait, you’re REALLY envious of Xi for more than his lifetime appointment? – Great Wall?

Donnie: The Chinese have a Great Wall?...NO!

Jeff: Alright, give me a sec…you’ve been reading up on the Salem Witch trials? – how about Witch Hunt?

Donnie: I’m confused…and NO, I don’t read…NO NO NO!! Ok, I’ve got a better idea. What if tell you what the password is but you have to promise not to tell anyone who you learned it from?

Jeff: Well…sure.

Donnie: Hold on, just gotta grab my cell, I’m gonna call ya.

Jeff: You’re gonna call me?

Donnie: Yeh, I do it all the time

Jeff: Your personal cell?

Donnie: Don’t start with me too Jeff, it’s the biggest bestest secure of all secure stuff. No one can access it but me, I mean it's right on my night stand or in my pocket, never leaves my sight. Absolutely secure. 

*ring

*pick up

Jeff: Ok…the passw…

Donnie: Hey, hold on! You gotta knock first.

Jeff: Serioulsy?

Donnie: KNOCK!!!!

Jeff: Alright…  *Knock Knock

Donnie: Who is it?

Jeff: It’s me, Jeff.

Donnie: This is fun. You wearing those cute little jackboots?

Jeff: No!!

Donnie: Oh right. And you say it's Jeff? You sure about that? Juuuuuuuuuuust Jeff?

Jeff: Sigh…it’s me…Lil’Jeff.

Donnie: Is Kanye with ya?

Jeff: Um, no?

Donnie: Damn, thought that might work. Anyway, what’s the password?

Jeff: It’s Recusal

Donnie: Damn right it is JEFF!! R E C something, maybe Use All. I wouldn’t be in any of this shit if it weren’t for that!! You could have made it ALLLLL go away, but NOOOO, you had to show some integrity for the first and only time in your life!! You know, I didn’t hire you for integrity by the…..

Jeff: ...yes, I know. Can I come in now?

Donnie: Ok.

Jeff: Thank you (starts for the door)

Donnie: Not that door Jeff.

Jeff: Sigh (again)…alright the “Alice” door.

*Inside

Jeff: So who else is part of the meeting?

Donnie: Well, there’s supposed to be a few, WWW III Bolton, Kitten Kelly, Puppet Pompeo, Hanger Hannity, Jared the Jew, maybe Token Ben, Kellyanne for comic relief, I love it when she just makes shit up and when she wears brown shirts with Laura Ingraham, Hucksterbee to lie about the meeting when it’s done and maybe a few others. I have a feeling, though, that it might just be me and you.

Jeff: Why is that?

Donnie: None of them know the password.

*Knock Knock

Donnie: Who is it?

Bolton: John.

Donnie: What’s the password?

Bolton: Really Big Fucking Bombs....no, I'm just kidding. It's Recusal.

Donnie: Ummmm….

*Knock Knock

Donnie: Who’s there?

Pompeo: Mikey.

Donnie: Password?

Bolton: Recusal.

Donnie: Whaaaaaaaa…….?

*Knock Knock

Donnie: Ok, who is it now?  

Carson: Ben.

Donnie: You still Black?

Carson: Yes.

Donnie: Any press catch you coming to see me?

Carson: A few.

Donnie: Did they take pictures, ask if you were still Black?

Carson: Ummm….

Donnie: And you told them in your capacity as Black you supported me right?

Carson: Well….

Donnie: Good, that’s very important. What’s the password?

Carson: Recusal.

Donnie: Ohhhh, what the fuck!!! Do you all know the password?

*in unison “Yeh”

Bolton: Everybody else does too. It got leaked just a couple of minutes ago.

Donnie: Fucking leakers!!! Jeff! You wearing those little jackboots?!!!

Jeff: I told you, No.

Donnie: Shit! We need jackboots today! But, not little cute ones! Big ones! Big heavy motherfucking stomp on necks & heads jackboots!! Fucking leakers!!

*FOX & Friends State News Update

“This just in. Supreme Lead…President Trump & his secret meeting at his official secret Tree House was leaked to the press just moments ago after details were acquired through an unsecure cell phone. We wait breathlessy on twitter….””

Today I Woke Up Feeling Magic

Did you ever wake up and just know it, ya know? Just know that you’re special, and not the special that your Mom still tells you you’ll grow up to be someday, but special, unique, maybe even magic? I woke up feeling that way this morning, and not because my Mom left me a voicemail that said I’m going to grow up and be special someday. Nope, I just knew it.  I just knew today that I was magic.

For Bella & Grayson? – BOOM! After I almost tripped on both of them in the semi dark I was magic when breakfast showed up in their bowls.

For Cujo the cat downstairs at my landlady’s? – BOOM! I was magic when I opened my door and he flew past me up the stairs into my kitchen of wonder, followed by cat Bruce and cat Honey Bob Tail.

For the dogs downstairs?- BOOM! I was magic when they suddenly discovered they were outside peeing.

For the stink bug on my towel by the shower? – BOOM! I was magic when he found himself hurtling through space to the other side of the bathroom.

And I knew I was truly magic today when, after opening up the driver side back door to BB (Blue Box - my Scion), I looked in my back seat and BOOM! – I realized I had somehow made it snow INSIDE my car. At first the magic I had performed was a mystery to me, as magic can often be.

“What wonderous powers must I possess” I thought “to have done something as magical as this?” No windows were open and it hadn't snowed the night before yet, there in front of my eyes, was snow on my backseat and even more of it in the back of car when I opened the hatch.

And it was here in the back that I did discover the source of my Merlin like abilities. An enchanted twelve pack of seltzer water left in single digit weather. If only I had been witness to my great powers as this 12 pack momentarily and violently turned my car into a snow globe that, had anyone been close, would have had them dialing 911 for the mysterious gun shot sounds emanating from a seemingly empty vehicle. My magic was so powerful that some snow even traveled as far as the front seat. 

Yes, I woke up this morning feeling magic. And though this probably isn’t really what she had, or may still have in mind, thanks Mom, anyway, for the constant encouragement – yes I am indeed special (open to interpretation I'm sure).

(pic doesn't quite do my magic justice as this is after the 'snow' melted off a bit)