The failing Wall Street Journal—very low IQ, very dishonest—published a big nasty story about my birthday, which I’m not happy about, and they’re saying I fell asleep at the basketball game. Wrong! I didn’t fall asleep. The camera angle was extremely unfair, very doctored, maybe deepfakes, many people are saying it was altered. I was simply resting my eyes, conserving my enormous energy, like a majestic lion, a very powerful lion, waiting to pounce. I have the most energy of any president in history, maybe ever. Lincoln was low energy, always with the bags under his eyes, very tired. I don’t have bags. I’m perfect.
They say the number eighty is a terrible number, a failing number, but I don’t feel eighty, I feel twenty-eight, and frankly the people are saying it’s the most twenty-eight they’ve ever seen, maybe ever. I’m omnipresent, I’m everywhere. I’m on the phone at 10 AM calling a reporter at a failing newspaper, I’m at the NBA Finals in the beautiful suite eating the most perfect french fries, the greatest pizza, and then I come back to the House at 2 AM and I’m ordering beautiful strikes on the Strait of Iran. The relentless schedule, much stronger than the other guy’s schedule—he couldn’t even find the stairs at the Great Hall, very dangerous stairs, no railings at all. I told Xi, “Watch this,” and I walked up those stairs like a gazelle, a very strong gazelle, and I didn’t stumble because I’m the most careful, the most graceful. The whole thing was a victory for stability.
And the bruising on my hands—totally minor, actually a sign of strength—is from shaking so many hands, the most hands in history, bigger crowds than anyone has ever seen, and my hands are insured for twelve trillion dollars, tremendous assets, the best hands. The failing press says they’re bruised—they’re not bruised, they’re strong from the handshaking, I shake hands better than anyone, the strongest handshakes in the world, sometimes the shaking is so powerful it leaves marks on ME, it’s a sign of pure power! The fake news will say it forever, very unfair, but I don’t stumble, I run like a 4.1 in the forty-yard dash, actually I’m a 2.0, the fastest man ever, faster than Zinke thinks by a lot, he says I’m a 4.3 but he’s looking at failing metrics.
But when it comes to the thinking, the mental acuity, it’s the same story, total domination. I took a cognitive test, person woman man camera TV, very tough, and I aced it, the highest score the doctors have ever seen, they said no one has ever done that well, maybe the smartest person ever. They say I confused Greenland and Iceland—I didn’t confuse them, I called them the same thing because they’re both cold ice, and my uncle, a great professor at MIT, told me years ago that cold is cold, so I was right, I was absolutely right! I always knew I’d turn 80. I predicted it years ago, before anyone else. I said, “One day I’ll be 80 and it’ll be the best 80, the most tremendous 80,” and here we are, exactly as I said, genius-level foresight, nobody saw that coming but me.
The White House is doing a fantastic job defending my vitality. They put out a schedule—very packed, two dozen events a day, maybe three dozen, the most events—proves I’m the fittest ever. I’m 6’3”, 215 pounds of pure muscle, down from 239, a perfect physical specimen. At the game I was eating the finest french fries, the best pizza, and still in peak condition, the doctors are amazed. This Sunday I’m hosting a massive UFC cage match on the White House lawn, a first ever, the biggest UFC match in history, bigger crowds than Lincoln ever drew at Gettysburg, much bigger than Lincoln’s crowds, the cages are tremendous, beautiful fighters. It’s twelve billion dollars for the cage match, the most expensive lawn in history, we’re paying for it but actually the fighters are paying, no, I’m paying, completely self-made, just a small loan of twelve billion, self-made.
The people, they want me here, they don’t want me here, but I’m doing it for Diklis Chump—I mean for the country, for us, but mostly for Diklis Chump, I need to see myself young, I need the birthday to be twenty-eight. We’re going to take the biggest Sharpie, the most beautiful marker I’ve ever seen, and we’re going to cross out the eighty, and we’re going to write a twenty-eight, it’s the easiest thing in the world, the calendar is just paper, we control the paper, and suddenly I’m twenty-eight. And once I’m twenty-eight, the polls will suddenly show the real numbers, the best numbers, because they don’t check the calendar, they only check the energy, finally waking up because they figured out what I figured out at MIT years ago!
And because I’m twenty-eight, I’ll be the best-looking, most powerful president for another fifty years, maybe longer. And the enemies are going to make a beautiful deal because only a twenty-eight-year-old genius could make the Iran deal overnight while resting his eyes at the finals! So enjoy my birthday, but don’t wish me a happy birthday—it’s not a happy occasion for me, it’s a tremendous occasion for the country, just another day of being the best, most energetic, most youthful president ever. The fake news won’t change that.
Parody notice. This column is satirical commentary on the documented public conduct of Diklis Chump, written in parody voice as the in-novel character “Diklis Chump.” It is not a representation of any real person speaking in their own voice. The parody is anchored to documented public conduct cited in the publication’s working file; the regression-by-exaggeration register renders that conduct in satirical form. Main Street Independent’s parody pen-name MindSpec, which encodes the parody discipline (including the constitutional commitments to TRUTH, HARMLESSNESS, FAIRNESS, WITNESS, and PARODY-DISCLOSURE that govern the agent producing this column), is published in full at Reference — MSI Diklis Chump Mind.md.
Diklis Chump is a parody character in Main Street Independent’s editorial architecture. The voice deliberately mimics the cadence and rhetorical patterns of a real political figure to expose the patterns themselves. The positions expressed are parody, not advocacy.