La la la la la!

There once was a man named Don who lived on the Hill in a Big White House and liked to tell stories. Sometimes Don got bored, or even into trouble, and as a child, he found a solution: change the story! He bent the truth and spun tales to save himself and loved it more each time. After a while, he stopped knowing what was true and what wasn’t, and after a while, he stopped trying to.

One day, he was feeling down because his beloved friend Jeffery Epstein had been maligned. To lift his spirits, he took a stunted breath and sang out, “Pedophile! Pedophile! Pedophiles are in Washington DC!”

The people and journalists came running to the Hill. But when they arrived, they found no pedophiles.

“Don’t cry ‘pedophile,’ Don,” said the people, “when there’s no pedophile!” They went grumbling back on their way. Don smiled to himself and tried to pat himself on the back, although he couldn’t quite reach.

His joy soon faded as he overheard Angela Merkel calling him “mein dummer Idiot.” Don needed a little treat, so he yelled, “Baby killing! Baby killing! There’s baby killing in the streets!” The people thought a moment and decided it must be true as they had just told him he must stop lying. They ran to the Hill only to find no dead babies, and even worse: none near death or maimed. They cried, “Don, the babies are alive. You can’t lie about that.” Don looked at them and said, “have you seen Fast and the Furious? It’s pretty okay.” The people walked away, frustrated and relieved. Don went about his day and watched them go grumbling away once more. “You’ll never guess what a compelling story I told today,” he said to his friend Vladimir on the phone that night.

Don got upset one day with annoying morons that didn’t like him at all despite his beautiful character. “These rioters. They’re pignorant!” he yelled at his daughter, who was looking very sexy in that moment. When that pig joke didn’t make him happy, he thought he should probably get ahead of his anger.

He went on Truth Social and wrote, “Antifa! Antifa! Antifa is burning Seattle and Portland to the ground!” The people rushed from the Hill to these supposed wastelands. When they arrived and saw buildings instead of heaps of ash, the people grew angry. “Don, Portland is fine. You can’t cry ‘Antifa’ just because Portlanders are pest-ish!”

Don wondered why these people were still talking, “don’t they know I don’t care?” he thought. Clearly not, so he put in foam earplugs, as, he couldn’t stand to hear such shrill whining. The people sighed and shook their head as he ignored them, mumbling and grumbling all the way home.

He stewed over these no-good people who were so priggish. Who was anyone to get in the way of his stories? How dare they?

He assured himself that they must be stupid idiots who don’t understand art. He didn’t give them another thought.

Don knew inside that he was perfect and was very proud of his storytelling. More people should do this, he thought, it works every time!

He liked to tell stories most when he was upset. One day, he lost a competition and couldn’t cope with it. He remembered he didn’t have to.

He called out, “Fraud! Fraud! There was widespread election fraud!” Elections officials and judges came running to the Hill. When they arrived, they saw no rigging of any kind. “Don’t lie about fraud, Don! It breaks our country’s trust.” Don looked around and hummed, tapping his foot. He was enjoying himself despite the clatter of “Don… Don… Don!” He sang “la la la la la” until the irritants slinked away.

Later Don received horrible news, a nasty man called Vindman (stupid name) started spreading rumors about Don and his campaign for president. Don was worried and sang out again, “Aliens! Aliens! The aliens are voting as dead people!” To his delight, he watched as investigators and all sorts of people came running to the Hill.

When they saw no one voting on behalf of dead people, they were angry. “Save your frightened song for when there is really something wrong. Don’t cry ‘Aliens’ when there are none.”

The people were fatiguing. There was only so much running to the Hill they could do. They were weak and couldn’t risk an injury since having a body now counted as a pre-existing condition. All of the people came together and said there would be no more lies. The question was how. Some threw out ideas of impeachment. Others, censure. A few favored verbal condemnations. One person (L. Graham) suggested a strongly worded, yet empathetic letter. There was hemming and hawing. Debates ensued and they decided on a polite verbal correction.

Don heard the correction and said aloud “witch hunt!” before whistling showtunes.

He was proud of the tune he had gotten going and kicked his feet a moment. Sadly, his content faded when his TV friends said he lost Georgia. He needed to change the story. He yelled, “Stolen! Stolen! The election was stolen!” The people were sure he wouldn’t lie after his verbal correction and scoured the country before finding no thievery.

Discouraged, they moved on to the impeachment. “This has to stop him,” they thought.

Don didn’t understand why they had to be so mean, but knew he was in the right. When people started saying he lost his election, he couldn’t stand such a tragic and boring story. “I can fix that!” he said, and he spun a few more tales here and there.

Feeble dumb awful people started to say Don was lying and causing trouble. He heard people say he was dangerous and reckless and got insecure, as even the greatest men do. He couldn’t stand it, so he went outside and yelled, “Traitors! Traitors! There are traitors killing patriots!”

The people were worried and thought this might be another story. After a brief hesitation and discussion, they felt certain he wouldn’t lie after the impeachment. They ran to the Hill and saw police on the ground, groaning and half-awake, with politicians hiding behind desks. They were horrified but happy Don decided to tell the truth when it mattered.

The traitors were still there, yelling “Hang Mike,” Don’s best friend. They could only imagine Don’s anguish!

The people ran to Don and said, “We are so sorry we didn’t come straight away.”

Don replied, “Did you see? Innocent Americans are under attack. True patriots.”

“We saw, there are police incapacitated on the ground.”

“After what they did to that poor Ashli? Good.”

The people realized the “patriots” were there because of Don—to root out the pedophiles and combat the fraud and the aliens and the theft and all of it—and were appalled.

He simply must stop the lies, and they told him as much.

“Do you know what you’ve done? This is your fault.”

Don didn’t like hearing such scathing language, especially given that his stories were so creative and effective. So, he did what he did best.

“What lies?” Don asked. “I tell truths no one else will.”

They knew then he would never stop lying, and they knew then that he would never have to. Apparently, everybody believes Don, including himself, even when they know he is telling a lie.