Erasing Trump

It starts in 2029. It won't be easy, but it could be fun.

Illustration for The Gene Pool by Trevor Stone Irvin, a noted human.

The public jubilation around the simple act of ripping Donald Trump’s name off the Kennedy Center seemed auspicious, didn’t it? Just a hint of more delightfully Schadenfreudian moments to come, no?

In two and a half years, Trump will be gone and then comes the hard but satisfying task of expungement — erasing him, not from history (Santayana was right) but from the simple need to show we are not and will never again be what he made us briefly become.

There are legal norms and strictures in place — good ones — that will seem to stand athwart any righteous urge for vengeance. For example, we are not allowed to punish the wicked by impaling them on butcher’s hooks, however deserving that may seem. Still, as midcentury cinematic thin-lipped German villains ominously declared: perhaps ve do haf vays….

What I’m proposing is that the new presidential administration in 2029 immediately establish a cabinet-level Department of Trump Erasure, led by a Secretary of Wrath. I’ll just throw out a name here: Elizabeth Warren.

Consider:

Abetted by his spineless asslickers in Congress, Donald Trump has packed American federal courts with young reactionary evangelical ideologues who have constitutionally protected lifetime appointments. They can be impeached, but not for obvious political reasons. None of this need be an insurmountable obstacle.

One need not fire a person to hasten his or her departure. With a newly emboldened progressive Congress in power, consider a new law requiring that all Trump-appointed federal judges wear a scarlet orange letter “T” on their chests, and must issue their decisions naked from the waist down, like Squidward Tentacles, SpongeBob’s neighbor.

Also they and only they would have to write all their decisions and dissents in crayon. And yes, this edict would apply to all Trump federal judges, including those on the Supreme Court.

Secretary Warren would appoint an Undersecretary of Wrath for Unfucking Your Habitat, named after the highly successful subreddit about hoarders. This new undersecretary — I’d nominate Percy Shelley or Jimmy Carter, but they’re both dead, so let’s go with Maya Lin, the architect of the Vietnam Wall — will be in charge of eliminating, through whatever legal means possible, any and all disgusting monuments to himself that Trump forced on us. Let’s say his “Hail Trump” arch is already half constructed when he leaves office? We just paper over it, like you do with an embarrassing tattoo. Turn it into a giant Hebrew “chai” symbol

… which has become a universal amulet and semaphore that means, basically, “in the face of evil, embrace and cherish life.” It will be a fundraising beacon to the world and its proceeds will go to reparations to international victims of Trump’s decision to kill USAID, dooming people to death from disease and malnutrition.

Trump’s ballroom, which will dwarf the White House in size, could become an arena for Ultimate Fighting Championships. It could even be called, in giant letters, “The Donald J. Trump Arena.” But it would be kept as a work of art only, forever empty and unused, a monument decrying the sins of hubris and vulgarity. Trump would get the property tax bills every year!

The Deputy Undersecretary of Retribution could be in charge of repairing America’s global reputation, which was dreadfully tarnished under Trump. How would this be done? Simple: One repairs a besmirched reputation by humiliating the besmircher to the point that his actions are seen not as national policy but only as the work of a runaway, conscienceless infantile jackass. Imagine an entire office legally empowered to do just that, as a matter of justice.

For this important position I nominate Jeff Tiedrich, the hilarious, foul-mouthed, acid-tongued Substack writer, who has coined and popularized the following nicknames for Trump: Agolf Shitler, Preznit Fuckwit, Lord Shittacus, and Some Fucking Idiot.

Anyway, this is all just an idea. Please feel free to suggest other erasure methods, either in Comments, or here:

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Today’s Gene Pool Gene Poll:

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A couple of days ago, I went to the eye doctor for a checkup and had a fabulous, deadpan conversation with the tech who tested my vision. This is verbatim:

Tech: When you leave, they’ll give you sunglasses. I need to warn you about them.

Me: Okay.

Tech: They are going to make you look incredibly hot. People in the street will lose their concentration. A driver or two might lose control of their cars. You might be touched inappropriately.

Me: Well, I already have that problem.

Tech: I figured. This will be worse. My advice to you is to keep your face averted by looking down a lot. Don’t make eye contact with anyone.

Me: Okay. Would it help if I limped a little, or something?

Tech: No, they might think you was pimpin’.

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For the record, here are the “sunglasses” they gave me:

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From the Mailbag:

Q: You asked for modern-day annoyances. My nomination is when companies try to lower their overhead by outsourcing customer service to countries where the agent just reads from a script. For instance, not long ago I had to cancel a reservation with a hotel chain, and mistakenly called the national reservation line to do so, instead of the hotel directly. The customer service representative politely asked me if I could tell him the reason why I needed to cancel. I facetiously told him that I was going to prison for the next three to five years. He said, “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you have any flexibility in your dates?”

— Gerry Studzinski

A: Thank you.

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Q: You asked about things that seem the same but are actually of different qualities altogether. Twix (yes) and KitKat (no). — Marty Merzer

A: Hey, Marty. The Internet is divided on this. I’m going to put it to a vote:

That’s it for today.