Three Scenarios

For all those who  have the stomach to watch the Kabuki press briefings, let me propose three scenarios that would put them in their proper perspective. In these scenarios, absent will be the plants that are there each day to ask Trump friendly questions. Only legit press will be there in my dream scenarios.

Scenario One: There is panic backstage. “Uh, Mr. President, I don't think you should go out right now,” Stephen Miller says. “The press don't seem to have arrived yet.”

“Fuck sake. We already postponed it for two hours,” Trump says. “Where are they? Who the fuck am I going to talk to? I need them!” 

“We've been calling all the papers and networks that are supposed to be here and they just put us on hold. Maybe you could just pretend they're there or maybe say that they all tested for temperatures and we wouldn't let them in. Call them spreaders. Anything.”

“Cancel it then,” Trump says. “Say that I'm too busy ordering up a couple million more respirators or something. Jesus Christ! Will they be here tomorrow?”

“I don't know, sir. We're still on hold.”

Scenario Two: Trump shuffles out and reads from a script he's obviously never seen before about all the equipment that he is personally sending out to every corner of America. The doctors take their turn, and when Trump asks for questions, a woman reporter asks a valid question and Trump goes off on her, insulting her and her outlet in a volley of ugly remarks.

The assembled press corps silently rises as one and files out of the room. 

“You can't stand the truth!” Trump yells after them. 

Scenario Three:Trump shuffles out and reads from his script of hastily-crafted lies, mispronouncing the usual words and reminding  the country of the flu epidemic of 1917. As usual, the doctors do their best to bring a measure of truth and sanity to the briefing and answering questions thoroughly and truthfully.

Then Trump turns it over to Pence, who tells the country again what a true savior and patriot Trump is and how he and Mother are so grateful to be able to serve him and Our Lord. Trump smirks. Pence answers questions with his usual bob and weave, staying on whatever message he has for the day regardless of the questions. 

“Now I'll turn it back to the president to answer any and all questions with his usual genius and truthiness,” Pence says, and steps back, hands folded over his crotch.

Trump steps up, all cocky and lie-ready. “Okay,” he says. “Which fake news question is first?”

Silence. No hands frantically waving. More  silence.

“Come on,” Trump says. “Anybody have a question? How about you in the back there. Anybody? Come on. How come you don't have questions?”

One hand.

Relieved, Trump points. “Yes, please?”

The woman reporter says, “Mr. President, why do you stand there day after day and tell the American people lies that are literally killing people. Why do you do that, Mr. President?”