What do you buy for Christmas a man who reportedly has a solid gold toilet seat? What do you buy for a roughshod, in-the-rough hacker who owns 17 golf courses around the world; along with a Louis XIV-style Manhattan apartment with marble floors, walls, columns, ceiling frescos, winged cherubs, diamond chandeliers, not to leave out gold platters, lamps, vases, crown molding and other 24-karat do-dads and what-nots all over the place?
What could a man want or need who apparently has everything, including a Sikorsky S-76 helicopter, estimated at $7 million, equipped with sundry solid gold accoutrements? What does a man who boasts his net worth is more than $7 billion, but Forbes estimates is just a tad above $4 billion, put on Santa’s list? What does a strange looking man with orange hair and orange skin buy for himself around this time of year, when he already owns a $100 million private Boeing 747 aviary monstrosity with TRUMP to lead the charge flying in this airborne fuselage? What does a man with a 40,000-square-foot Seven Springs Westchester Mansion that sits on 213 acres in the plush ‘burbs buy for himself for Christmas? What does a man with a grimace that makes The Scrooge’s most sour face look like a beaming smile buy for himself when he owns a $500,000 Rolls Royce Phantom which he had customized with a heapin’ helpin’ of gold plated stuff?
What could the man who stole and robbed himself to become Prez #45 by way of the leader of the Not-So-Free World, Vladimir Putin, in other words, possibly want now that he’s more or less called the luxurious Mar-a-Lago — a 110,000-square-foot sprawling estate in Palm Beach, Fla., with 58 bedrooms, 12 fireplaces, 33 bathrooms, three bomb shelters, tennis courts, pools, a spa, along with a 20,000-square-foot ballroom? Built during the 1920’s, this mansion of all mansions is said to be haunted by F. Scott Fitzgerald and all the great writer’s drunken cohorts.
Well, it’s tough to imagine what this man could possibly want or need as a Christmas gift, but I’ve used my myopic imagination to come up with a few things the Gropenfuhrer may want to stick on his “What I want for Christmas” gift list. So here goes –
- A dancing line of the most beautiful women the world over, women who would never cry wolf if “The Donald” groped them, or worse. . .Of course, they would all need to be deaf, dumb and blind, and one of the requisites for sitting under the Presidential Christmas tree would be that these live wires with long legs and big orbs would answer to Trump’s every beck and call.
- A whole fleet of nuclear warheads that he could keep in the backyard of Mar-a-Lago or his Seven Springs Westchester Mansion and gawk at whenever he wants to – knowing that now, yes, he can blow up the world with not only the little thingamajig he was given when he took over from Barack Obama, but now he has his own arsenal, too, to blow up the world after it has already been blown to bits and pieces. Maybe after The Trumpenfuhrer blows up the world twice over, he could blow it up three or four times over!
- A dozen or so cherubic little angels with wings for arms and spiked weapons for tails, complete with horns, who look very much like an underage seraphs. When Prezzy #45 gets through with them, oh, around February or March, he can ship them down to Alabama so his buddy Roy Moore can have them all to himself.
- A first edition of Mein Kampf, signed by the real Fuhrer himself, which can slice off at least a $35,000 take in underground and scabrous online auctions. The two-volume collection, published in 1925 and inscribed by the far-Right leader to Philipp Bouhler, the 12th member of the Nazi party who oversaw the murders of 70,000 people, would be a good gift for Steve Bannon, too. If Steve would actually eat crow and tell Donald Trump “You’re not fired, not yet anyhow!”
- Another White House, just like the one at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., Washington, D.C., 20500, in Leningrad, Saint Petersburg, or possibly even some little borough in Siberia. That way, Donald Trump can be close to the one he loves the most, Vladimir Putin.
- An artist’s rendering of himself riding a white stallion, sword high in the air, charging into the sea to save all that petroleum and plastic from that salty sea water.
- For Christmas week only, a gift of all the progressive online magazines, along with all the lefty national and international TV news organizations, late-night major network comics, and even those young huckster wise-guys and wise-girls at SNL to say only grandiloquent things about how virtuous, great, strikingly handsome, prudent, and wonderful President #45 is and always will be, forever and ever, amen. . .
- The ability to eat a wonderful piece of the most beautiful cake ever made, chew bubblegum, smoke a Havana cigar, and read off a teleprompter with great aplomb and dignity.
- A Gigantopithecus ape (commonly referred to as “Bigfoot” or “Sasquatch”) to roam the grounds of Mar-a-Lago, his Seven Springs Westchester Estate, or perhaps even a Trump golf course. After the guys who landscape the lawns of the White House tame this wild beast, perhaps a search and kidnap posse can visit Loch Ness in Scotland and capture that icky-looking dinosaur that scares the hell out of fishermen whenever it surfaces. He can put that prehistoric fish in one of his swimming pools, or perhaps into one of the many water hazards on a Trump Golf Course.
- A great gift would be for Donald Trump to have the love and admiration from a goodly slice of the American constituency that President #44, Mr. No Drama Obama, enjoyed while in office and continues to enjoy today.
Well that’s it. Maybe you can come up with some gifts for President #45 on the comment thread below. Maybe not. And if not, Merry Christmas to you and yours, anyhow!