This Carbon Based Life

By David Glenn Cox

You know, I hate to be right as much as I hate to be wrong. You see, my own cynical nature frightens me sometimes. The other day, the great orange dictator disappeared and wasn’t seen in public for five days. Damn, if that’s so. Then it’s even worse than I thought, and I’m a cynic! But then, I supposed a what if. What if the orange nightmare has made his last real estate deal and bought the farm? And moved on to eternal horizontal climate change? Would the rapscallions and non-convicted felons of his administration ever tell us, or would they try to pull a “Weekend at Bernie’s” and hide his body from the public?

Ask and they will answer! CNN’s Jake Tapper had scheduled an on-air interview with the great orange emperor. Jake had submitted his questions in writing in advance because…of course, you must submit your questions in writing first, and well in advance. What did you expect spontaneity? But instead of an interview, Jake got his questions answered in the form of a text interview.  

Sure, it was Trump! At least, he said he was. Perhaps soon, the great dictator will send all of his instructions by text! Then, he can become like a god who communicates only through his priests. “Today is his 300^th birthday, and no one has seen him in public in over 220 years.” But it is what it is. Time is merciless.

He dyes his hair and paints his face. He paints over the dark blotches on his skin. He begins to slouch like he’s reaching for a walker that’s not there. And he has trouble speaking Aceto, acedophin, ascedofinimin, Tylenol! The signs are all saying; the curtain is getting ready to fall. His hair is thinning, and his face is getting puffy. His eyes are deep set. Even with his clown makeup on, you can tell his pallor isn’t good.

The man’s continence is filled with wild mood swings. When he went to mystify and terrorize the generals at Quantico, he was stooped and slow. When he went to speak to the midshipmen at Annapolis, he was up. How can we explain this Sherlock Holmes, but with chemically induced juice. “Hello, is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone at home?”

I first suspected this when the Orange nightmare visited Scotland. The great dictator was boring the ears off of the European President by extolling the virtues of his golf course. It reminded me for all the world of someone under the influence of amphetamines. Never you mind how I know. But trust me, I know. I studied amateur pharmacology at college. And honestly, I didn’t think there was too much wrong with the king having a West Coast turnaround. He traveled six hours out of his comfort zone. Give Grandpa a little green football to help keep him going. It won’t hurt nothing. When he returned to Washington, he appeared exhausted, gaunt and worn out. Just like somebody who had been up for four days.

It would fully explain those two AM tweets…wouldn’t it? You think I’m joking, don’t you? I’m not. If Trump were to say, “Gimme,” who could say no? The name Ronny Jackson ring a bell? “Bring me a pound of your finest cocaine and a mixing bowl full of greenies!”  Add in, a dictator constantly ridiculed for his enormous corpulence. You can’t expect a narcissist to engage in depriving himself or exercising to lose weight. No, no, no never. He’s spoiled. Do you really expect him to struggle or work to obtain a goal?

He’s almost eighty years old, that’s two years beyond the average American’s life expectancy. He’s an old, old, addled man! “Relax, just a little pin prick! They’ll be no more AHHH! But you may feel a little sick.”

During the king’s speech at Annapolis, he became more direct and abusive about getting his political enemies than I have ever heard him before. He was grandiose and paranoid. “Badges? We don’t need no stinking badges!” Both attributes are telltale signs of amphetamine abuse. The impulsive need of the orange nightmare to respond to everything. Tweeting about Zohran Mamdani possibly becoming the Mayor of New York. About how Dementia Donny is going to act unconstitutionally and punish New York City if Mamdani is elected.

Does that sound normal to you? First, it hasn’t happened yet. Second, why telegraph your intentions at two in the morning like that? “If you elect him, I’ll fuck you over!” Do you see the mania forming around the edges? The awful emperor is worried and angry because there is something going on miles and miles away that he can’t control, so he vents like Vesuvius. “This is your brain. This is your brain on drugs!”  

It fits and fills all the holes, and it explains and unlocks everything! It explains the dictator’s mania and his grandiose ambitions. Trump’s worried about what they will do when he’s not around anymore to lead them. Is that grandiose enough for you? But it shows mortality is on his mind. Maybe he’s been told he’d better stop doing that. Because only Faust can cheat the devil.

Hitler’s doctor, Dr. Morell, gave the Fuhrer vitamin injections. One of the vitamins was a new drug called Methedrine or Meth. Does the picture start to clear itself? It all begins to make sense now, doesn’t it? How does an eighty-year-old man stay up all hours of the day and night? Why does he talk fast sometimes and slow others? Why does vent angrily and threaten people like he’s possessed? The other day, they asked 86 proof Pete Hegseth the last time somebody yelled at him. Percolated, Pete answered without hesitation. “The last time I was in the Oval Office.” Hmmm, I bet that’s true, but what did Pete do to make dementia Donny so angry besides just walking in?

“That’ll keep you going for the show. Come on, it’s time to go.”

“Hello
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me
Is there anyone at home?

Come on now
I hear you’re feeling down
Well, I can ease your pain
Get you on your feet again

Relax
I’ll need some information first
Just the basic facts
Can you show me where it hurts?

There is no pain, you are receding
A distant ship smoke on the horizon
You are only coming through in waves
Your lips move but I can’t hear what you’re saying
When I was a child I had a fever
My hands felt just like two balloons
Now I’ve got that feeling once again
I can’t explain, you would not understand
This is not how I am

I have become uncomfortably numb.”

• Pink Floyd