January 29, 2017
So I went to see my personal physician, Dr. Harold “I Can’t Believe They Legalized It” Bornstein.
Hello, Mr. President, I think you grew again. You’re looking at least 6’4”.
Who are you talking to?
You, Mr. President.
You. You’re the president.
What? Oh, right. Doc, could you do the prostate exam first?
Sure. Any trouble back there? It feels great to me.
It feels great to me too. Could you do it again?
Oh, thanks. So is my prostate yuge?
No. It’s small for a man your age.
Small. But small is good.
Oh. And what about the front?
You know. Is it monumental? Is it Washington Monumental?
Yes, absolutely. It’s like the Taj Mahal. Oops, let me rephrase. Mr. President, someone out there is walking around without one because of you.
That’s a nice thought. I like that.
Would you like me to put that in writing or go on the TV? I liked being on TV.
Some people said that watching you reminded them of This Is Spinal Tap.
Excellent medical movie. That’s nice.
Yes, well, no TV yet. But, please, put it in writing—for a rainy day. Doc, could you pat me on the back?
Now back to the prostate.
Sure. You know, Melania could do this for you, too.
Yeah, that’ll happen. Doc, I’m having doubts about my cognitive functioning. Some Republicans are questioning my mental stability. Can you also put in that note that I’m hinged? The most hinged person you know. Okay, now could you ask me those tricky questions, the kind I used to do so well on when I was allegedly first in my class at Wharton?
Okay. What year is it?
Name an ally of the United States?
Do we still have any?
Who is the president of the United States?
Donald John Trump. Did I get that one right?
Yes, you did.
Yes. Isn’t that good news?
Well, it will make my enemies unhappy, so that’s good. But, otherwise, I’m not so sure.
Mr. President, you know I’m not given to superlatives, but I think you may be the greatest president ever. And the best golfer. With the largest hands. There are people walking around without hands because of you. And the best prostate. Actually, I can check again. You may have two prostates.
Yes, check again. And another pat on the back. Thanks. Doc, if I decide I don’t want this job anymore, that having the world by the balls isn’t as much fun as I thought it would be, could you write me a note saying I have a bad cold and can’t come to the office for the next three years, 11 months and 22 days?
You tell me what to say, Mr. President, and I will put my signature on it. You have the best words.
Doc, do you consider Mike Pence a capable and intelligent man?
Do you consider Mike Pence a capable and intelligent man?
He believes in gay conversion therapy. I won’t have to put anything in writing or go on the TV?
No, no. But I want you to examine him. Especially his prostate.
We’ve got him in the limo downstairs. He’s in the trunk.
His preference. Ours too. Now, don’t forget the prostate. You need to examine it carefully, for at least an hour. And turn on the hidden video camera. In case I reconsider my resignation. I think he’ll enjoy it very much.
Anything else, Mr. President?
Could you hum “Hail to the Chief”?
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