The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #8: Damn Swedes

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & Swede Haters Club)

(Donnie cursing – laying stuff out on the Treehouse floor)

Ben: Sir? What exactly are you doing?

Donnie: These directions are shit.

Ben: ?

Donnie: These directions…they’re shit.

Ben: You know you just need to turn the page over for the English vers…

Donnie: Look I’ve got everything laid out and organized…nuts, bolts, lug wrench, duct tape, a small paper clip, glitter, glue, pretty pictures of pretty Swedish chicks, My Little Pony game pieces…

Ben: My Little pony?

Donnie: Yeah…Spicer said I look like a unicorn, riding a unicorn over a rainbow and there’s a real player game now too and even a board game and everything so…did you know there’s a whole universe of guys who do this?

Ben: I’ve heard. Very manly. And I’m sure you’re they’re hero now. But organized? That’s not like you sir.

Donnie: Yeah, exactly, but I’m doing it anyway.

Ben: Don’t they have a simpler way? Directions are so constricting for you. Bullet points. Maybe they have bullet points on the directions that you could then delegate to someone else to figure out? Or maybe a graph, with color. You like color right sir?

Donnie: Color? Of course. Lots of color…a rainbow of color, like that Spicer unicorn thing.

Ben: A rainbow?

Donnie: Yeah, but don’t tell Pence. He’s such a tight ass. Always going on about this God guy and rainbows and shirtless dudes being a strange sensation distraction…I mean, who doesn’t like rainbows…?

Ben: …maybe a multi-colored graph to show how these directions are trending up?

Donnie: That would be nice wouldn’t it? But too easy I’m guessing. Apparently directions are specific. Who knew?

Ben: Yeah, specific isn’t really your thing.

Donnie: I know tell me about it. But I’m trying to do it anyway.

Ben: Do what?

Donnie: Build these bunk beds

Ben: Why, if you don’t mind my asking, are you trying to build bunk beds?

Donnie: Don’t mind at…unless you’re questioning me..(glare)…


Donnie: …I’ve got a sleep over planned.

Ben: A sleepover?

Donnie: Yeah, an important sleepover. A playdate then a sleepover.

Ben: With who?

Donnie: With who? Jesus Benfred, don’t you read the news?

Ben: Awww….Benfred?

Donnie: What? Yes, alright, I called you Benfred, the whole Batman butler thing you were going on and on and on about, Benfred. But you’re Ben, he’s Alfred. And I just might be a superhero, the generals love that, gonna have a parade, so I combined the two.

Ben: I like it sir. You combined them on your own?

Donnie: Of course.

Ben: (quizzical look)

Donnie: Ok…I got some help. Kim told me how to combine the names, she’s an expert on this kind of stuff, prisons too, have I told you how good she is with prisons?…then we took a picture in the Oval Office. You know she’s a celebrity right?

Ben: I’ve heard.

Donnie: Big time celebrity. And whip smart. Says she supports me now. What could be more whip smart?

Ben: Nothing sir. Support = Whip smart. A given. I’m sure the folks at MENSA have her on speed dial for just that reason.

Donnie: Damn straight. And her guy, that Kanye…

Ben: Yes?

Donnie: He’s whip smart too. I took a picture with him too. Tells everybody how whip smart he is. It’s important to do that by the way. Remind people how whip smart you are…just in case they don’t notice. And he’s black.

Ben: I’ve gathered that from the pictures.

Donnie: Hey, you’re black too!

Ben: Yes, I still am sir.

Donnie: Did you vote for me because you’re black?

Ben: Uh… (big hesitation) …well of course I did. Everybody that voted for you did so because they’re black sir.

Donnie: You got that right, the blacks lov…wait, something’s off there.

Ben: Black power sir! (fist raised)

Donnie: Ummm…right! (fist raised) Black power Benfred!! And you and Kanye are BOTH black. I assume you’re related then?

Ben: ?

Donnie: Never mind, I don’t wanna pry, family business is family business. But with you two both being black and having a cool combo nickname…that’s just some sort of…ummm…a uhhhh….coming up short here Benfred.

Ben: Coincidence?

Donnie: Yes, coinc…shit…that’s a lot of syllables.

Ben: I know. It gets tough after two.

Donnie: Tell me. Anyway, he’s black, like you, and supports me like you, is whip smart and reminds people of it all the time, just like me…so they don’t forget…

Ben: You already said that.

Donnie: What?

Ben: Never mind, No, the whip smart is obvious sir.

Donnie: It is isn’t it?

Ben: You know you could get someone else to do this right?

Donnie: Do what?

Ben: Build these bunk beds.

Donnie: Oh right…yes I could, but there wouldn’t be as much….ummm…

Ben: Satisfaction?

Donnie: Exactly. (to self – fucking syllables)

Ben: You sure? I could run down to Home Depot in the White House pickup truck again. Look for some day guys.

Donnie: I thought about that, but it would be too easy…and the off the books would be nice…but Swedish translates so poorly in Spanish…NO! I need to show the American people that I’m a hands on kinda guy, that I’ll get in the trenches with them…

Ben: That you can build some bunk beds on your own?

Donnie: Yes! And directions be damned. I know how it’s supposed to look when it’s done, I’ve seen the catalogue. What could go wrong?

Ben: Well…(imagined images to self: beds falling on top of each other – beds exploding – beds falling from space – beds igniting California wild fires as some sort of divine retribution – beds carrying tiki torches – beds sleeping with beds)

Ben: But sir you haven’t told me who you’re building these for?

Donnie: Hell, Benfred, didn’t I just ask you if you read the news?

Ben: You did sir. But it’s kind of depressing.

Donnie: Why?

Ben: ‘Cause it’s all about you.

Donnie: Vlad! He’s coming here Benfred, and I want to make sure everything is just right. And I want to build these bunk beds myself…show him I don’t need any help.

Ben: But didn’t he…


Ben: Sorry sir.

Donnie: You know we don’t talk about that.

Ben: My fault.

Donnie: Hey wait! I just noticed. Have you been wearing a carrot on your nose this whole time? *

Ben: Carrot?

Donnie: Yeah, on your nose. Tied with string?

Ben: On my nose? No.

Donnie: Yes you have.

Ben: (pulling the carrot nose off his face) No I haven’t.

Donnie: Whewww, thank God. I thought for sure you were a witch.

Ben: They’re sneaky sir.

Donnie: Devious.

Ben: That they are.

Donnie: So, you gonna help me or not?

Ben: ?

Donnie: Put these bunk beds together?

Ben: You know they/you canceled that meeting?

Donnie: We/I did?

Ben: Yes.

Donnie: Why the fuck would we/I do that?

Ben: It’s all about the witch hunt sir. A rigged witch hunt. They just don’t understand your relationship with Vlad.

Donnie: Are you wearing that carrot again?

Ben: No sir. (after putting it back on then pulling carrot off nose again)

Donnie:…I know, they miss the positive influence that a good relationship with Vlad could have.

Ben: For the American people right?

Donnie: The who?

Ben: The American people sir.

Donnie: Who are they?

Ben: ummmm…they’re the ones you stand up for sir?

Donnie: Do I really?

Ben: Yes. The ones that wear your $40 hats. The ones you rile up into a mob frenzy with lies and incendiary short word language. The ones who would scream “jump” at a guy on a roof and then shoot him on the way down. The ones taking Russian as a second language now.

Donnie: Well I’m better at this than I thought.

Ben: You are sir. Much better.

Donnie: But a positive relationship with Vlad would be Yuge!

Ben: It would be sir. Yuge, just like you say.

Donnie: I mean he’s such a cool dude. How could anyone not like him?

Ben: …well…

Donnie: …Ok, the foot on the neck approach could be considered a little harsh by some, poisoning folks is a little much too, but I like the imprisoning of journalists and opposition leaders and the guy rides horses shirtless for Christ’s sake…and looks good doing it…I really gotta start working out…and his fake elections seem so legitimate to me…so does this piece go here?

Ben: What sir?

Donnie: This piece here. Does it go with this one?

Ben: Are we back on the bunk beds sir?

Donnie: Yes Benfred! Of course we fucking are! This has to be perfect!

Ben: What do the directions say?

Donnie: Dammit Benfred! We’ve talked about this!

Ben: I know sir. Sorry. Directions – bad. And in Swedish. Does Melania know about this?

Donnie: What? Who? And why should she? She’s in the residence with some kid and I got impor…

Ben: Your son?

Donnie: …yeah right…but I got important stuff to do here. Look, if you’re not really going to help at least grab some pillows.

Ben: ?

Donnie: For the fort. Duh.

Ben: Oh, right…the fort.

Donnie: …and grab a bedsheet to cover it. You got any flashlights?

Ben: I’m sure I could find some.

Donnie: …and some Playboys. Not a real fort without some Playboys right? Hugh, that guy really knew what he was doing. Oh, and make sure you put those nesting dolls under it too.

Ben: The nesting dolls?

Donnie: Yeah, the ones with Vlad’s picture on them over there (pointing the the night stand) They were a gift from him. They confuse me but he seems to like them so make sure they’re under the bedsheet.

Ben: But they shouldn’t confuse you sir.

Donnie: Why the hell not?

Ben: They’re right up your alley sir.

Donnie: (sigh) You’re going to explain why now aren’t you? (to self trailing off – fucking smart guys).

Ben: They’re a metaphor sir. Vlad is the big doll and you and Mitch and Lindsey and the rest are the little ones inside.

Donnie: A whatafor?

Ben: A metaphor. A figure of speech…

Donnie: …a nice figure?

Ben: Of course, always. Curvy. But like I said it’s one large doll with a number of smaller dolls inside, inside, inside and inside this one big doll.

Donnie: Hey! The 80’s were a weird time Benfred and I’m a hero for surviving them…and sometimes it hurt…

Ben: Sorry sir, didn’t mean to bring up ol…

Donnie: …it’s Ok…I didnt’t say it was bad…

Ben: …alright anyway…when is he coming now sir?

Donnie: I’m not sure and that makes me SOOOOOO mad!…fucking witch hunt…HEY!…are you wearing that carrot again?!

Ben: (after putting on and then taking off the carrot) No sir.

after a long pause  – working on the bunk beds

Donnie: Shit!…have I tariffed Sweden?

Ben: What sir?

Donnie: Have I tariffed Sweden? I wanna make them pay! I can’t get dick from these directions.

Ben: You know, again, if you just turn them ove…

Donnie: …fuck them.

Ben: I’ll grab the pickup truck sir.

Donnie: Good idea. And have them make me a taco salad when they’re done…I’m famished.

Ben: Will do sir.

Donnie: (trailing off) …Ok, this part goes…(bang bang)…shit! my finger…(bang bang)…son of a bitch…it’s supposed to…

* – always indebted to the Monty Python boys

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – "Till I Check It Myself" The Song

A couple of posts ago, I took a short break from episodes from the Trump Treehouse for a little Georgia Sattelites inspired music interlude as, well, there’s always a little music inerlude (though not always one inspired by the Georgia Sattelites). It’s a tune about Donnie and the Supreme Court and how he gets to put his stamp on it, which is one of the saddest statements of our times that I can imagine.

This and the Treehouse posts are an attempt to keep myself sane in a #TrumpDumbDown World, especially as the IQ drops to that of broccoli – lower for Trump supporters, single cell type stuff.

So Friday night, knowing I had nowhere to be, being a single cat dude an all, I decided to stay late in my little studio, take my lyrics and try to actually sing out this little interlude (but Father…all I want to do is sing).

I’ll apologize in advance if it makes your or your neighbor’s dogs cry. I won’t apologize if makes just you or your neighbors cry as I don’t care and you’ve obviously got issues.

As to my Bella? She gives a paws up…but with an attitude.

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #7: "Is It Just A Tan?"

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & Tan Haters Club)

Last we saw our dynamically inept duo? 

(trying to pull a body up the tree)

Paul: Hold your end turtle!

(rope slips)

Mitch: Stop calling me turtle!

(rope slips further)

Mitch: And why do you call me turtle anyway?

Paul: ’cause you look like one out of its’ shell.

Mitch: Oh, well that’s the just mean…shit!

(rope slips a bit more)

Paul: And stop calling me risky!

Mitch: But that one’s so obvious! Check the deficit!

(rope lets go)

Paul: Son of  a bitch!!

Mitch: Told you!!

(plop sound. moans)


Paul: Dammit!! (sheepishly) He’s not dead is he?

Mitch: I don’t know Paul. I’m not a doctor.

Paul: You’re not?

Mitch: No.

Paul: I thought all congressman were automatically doctors.

Mitch: No Paul, we just think that way.

Paul: Gotcha. “We’re not really doctors” Noted.

Guy: (muffled from under a hood) I’m not dead.

Paul: Put your finger on his throat.

Mitch: What?

Paul: Do that finger on the throat thing, like they do on TV.

Mitch: I don’t know how that works.

Guy: I’m all good. You don’t need to.

Paul: Me neither. I just know they do it on television and then maybe shake their heads with sadness.

Mitch: Ok, and?

Paul: Just do it!!

Mitch: Fine!! (puts finger on Guy’s throat)

Guy: Hey (he he) that tickles.

Mitch: I got nothin’

Paul: What’s nothin’?

Mitch: I don’t know numbnuts. Nothing. I just felt his neck.

Guy: I’m fine by the way

Paul: Is it still warm?

Mitch: Sure Paul, his neck is still warm. But if he JUST died he’d still be warm anyway.

Paul: I just wanna feel better about this. Warm is good for right now.

Guy: I didn’t JUST die you guys.

Paul and Mitch: Shut up!!!

Guy: Sorry.

Paul: Try the throat ag….

Mitch: Enough with the throat Paul. I’ve tried. He’s still warm. That’s all I got.

Guy: You’re looking for a pulse.

Mitch: What?

Guy: You’re looking for a pulse. That’s the finger on the throat thing.

Mitch: Really?

Guy: Yeh, a pulse, feel the blood moving. Mine is moving by the way and I’ve got one.

Mitch: One what?

Guy: A pulse.

Paul: Don’t believe him turtle. That’s what they all want. For us to believe they’re alive.

Mitch: But he IS alive

Guy: He’s right, breathing here.

Paul: Bullshit. I think he’s definitely dead.

Guy: I’m not dead.

Paul: So you say. No, Mitch we need to bury him in the backyard. I’m sure Donnie has another shoebox on his bookshelf he can use (after he empties out more of those fucking rocks). And even if he’s not REALLY dead I’d just be so much more comfortable with knowing he’s somebody elses problem.

Guy: Whoa!! Who else’s problem am I if I’m buried alive in the backyard in a shoebox?

Paul: …ummmm…I don’t kn….Gods’…yeh, your God’s problem then. I talk to him you know.

Mitch: Yes, we know..and it’s really annoying. But we brought him here for a reason.

Paul: We did?

Mitch: Yeh, the boss will want to see him.

Paul: He will?

Mitch: Jesus, you’re dim…yes, that’s why we were pulling him up the tree in the first place.

Paul: Oh, right. Hey! Not dead guy! Time to meet your maker!

Mitch: Paul (sigh)…you only say that if you’re gonna kill someone.

Paul: He’s not already dead?

Mitch: (twice sigh) No Paul, we established that, you just talked to him.

Paul: Right. Ok, again…Hey! Not dead guy, are you ready to meet…

Mitch: Paul?…

Paul: …my bad. I get stuck in a loop sometimes, like trying to justify the Tax Cut Scam. Alright then…the boss wants to see you not dead guy!

Guy: Ummmm…

Mitch: Can you at least pull this time? (grabbing the rope again)


Donnie: (looking down the tree) Hey, what the fuck are you two doing?

Ben: It’s hard to find Sir.

Donnie: What’s that?

Ben: Good help.

Donnie: I know. Tell me about it. That’s why I’ll bet a good taco salad is completely out of the question right now. But they do have my back.

Ben: There is that sir, it’s just that…

Donnie: Spit it out Alfred…I mean Ben.

Ben: Awww, you’re warming to the idea aren’t you?

Donnie: ?

Ben: Never mind.

Donnie: No, they’ve got my back. Literally, check out their blood autographs right her…

Ben: …please don’t take off your shirt Sir.

Donnie: Why?

Ben: I just ate.

Donnie: Ok, point. But they’ve been right here….

Ben: …I know, the whole time, compromising whatever amounts to self respect these days, selling out Country for party and greed, enabling your delusions, turning a blind eye to you destroying our Democracy, siding with Putin, blah blah blah…(changing subject) How about we just see what this is all about?

Donnie: Right. Yes. (shouting down the tree)  Hey you two!! So what is this…sorry, getting a little lost here…

Ben: …what is this all about?

Donnie: Exactly! So what is this all about?….


Paul: (looking up the tree) We’ve got one sir.

Donnie: One what?

Paul: A sympathiser sir.

Donnie: Is that bad?

Paul: Well of course sir. A sympathiser to the resistence sir? Can’t have sympathisers. Gotta keep ’em line.

Donnie: Isn’t Dan Donovan working on that?

Paul: He is. And kudos to him. He’s trying to unmask them.

Donnie: That doesn’t include pointy hoods does it?

Paul: Not sure.

Donnie: Cause I’m fan of the pointy hoods. And body armor. I like body armor. It looks so freakin’ cool! And Tiki Torches.

Paul: We’ll make sure it doesn’t. (jotting a note: pointy hoods are OK – body armor – Tiki Torches)

Donnie: Great.

Guy: Still here you guys


(after finally being pulled up the tree)

Donnie: Right in front of me boys! So what do you have to say for yourself Guy?!

Guy: (still muffled under hood) My name’s not Guy.

Donnie: It’s not?

Guy: No.

Donnie: Really? But it says so right here.

Guy: That’s just to denote A guy in the script. My name is actually Steve.

Donnie: (fingers on chin)…hmmmmm.

Paul: It’s a trick sir!! He doesn’t have real name. None of them do!

Donnie: Shut up Paul.

Guy: The hood is nice.

Donnie: What?

Guy: The kidnap hood. Fur lined is a nice touch.

Donnie: What?…right.  I know huh? That’s all Ivanka.

Guy: She’s got a certain flair.

Donnie: She does, Shes so much better at this than me. She told me Trump branding dead cows wouldn’t really sell. Did I listen? No. She warned against the Vodka too, though she might have been a little short sighted on that one

Guy: I know, from the mouths of babes huh?

Donnie: You fucking with me?!!

Guy: Ummmm, no sir

Donnie: Good. So why are you here?

Guy: Well…your guys kidnapped me. Can I take off the hood?

Donnie: Kidnapped? You two kidnapped him? And no…you’re our floor model, plus we’re still waiting on the Chinese trademark. And it’ll be huge in Mexico.

Paul: Well, not quite kidnapped…more…umm…aquired. We thought you might like to know what the resist….

Guy: Aquired?! You had your goons grab me outside a coffee shop at gun point!

Paul: No we didn’t!

Guy: Yes you did! And one of them was small, looked like an evil little elf wearing tiny jackboots. Big ears.

Donnie: Shit…fucking Sessions! I told him not to go out in the field. Guys, I have no room left in the backyard.

Mich: We know that si…

Donnie: No, I actually have have no room left in the backyard. There’s like 30 plus shoeboxes buried out there and now almost all of my treasured bookshelf rocks are boxless. Flynn, Manafort, Page, White Bomb Bannon, T-Rex, McMaster, some chick who made a joke about McCain which I didn’t find in poor taste at all, Prissy Price, Popadopalot or something like that, Gates, Spicer, Hagin, selfish bastard never invited me to one of his parties, Pinky Pruitt, my girl Hope (chokes up a bit “just like a daughter I never got to date”), that sleazy Italian Mooch guy who worked for me for like 5 minutes, the wife beater, a bunch of lawyers sticking me with Rudy, LewanDickski, Precious Priebus and now a dozen or so Russians including that really hot gun toting one…shit that’s lot of shoeboxes Mitch!…plus my back hurts from all the shoveling. I’ll have to start burying them on top of each other at this rate.

Mitch: You won’t have to bury this one sir. I’ve got a better idea.

Donnie: Oh, you do do you turtle?

Mitch: Oh, you too?

Donnie: It’s got a ring to it.

Mitch: (sigh) You won’t have to bury this one. I’m thinking we just drop him right in the Potomac.

Donnie: Concrete shoes?

Mitch: Sure.

Donnie: And weighted? With heavy chains? Just like in the movies?

Mitch: Of course.

Donnie: Now that’s cool!! So Mob like. And I’ll have a nickname too, like Donnie “The Diaper” or Donnie “The Disaster”

Mitch: Those aren’t very flattering sir.

Donnie: No? You don’t think?

Mitch: No

Donnie: Wait! How ’bout Donnie “The Disastrous Diaper” That could be like a signature. I stuff a disastrous diaper in their mouths.

Mitch: No sir.

Donnie: Can we at least video it? On my phone?

Mitch: Probably best not to.

Donnie: Yeh, you’re right. Just do it an have lunch. Is that taco salad done?

Ben: I’ll check sir.

Guy: And have lunch?! Hey!! I’m right here ya know!

Donnie: Shut up Steve! So what do you know?

Guy: (still muffled) …Uhhhhhhh…

Donnie: What?

Guy: I said…uhhhhhhh.

Donnie: Oh, take that fucking hood of him already.

Guy: (Paul takes off the hood) …whew, that’s better. The fur lined is nice but a bit warm and it get’s stuck in your throat.

Paul: I know what will get him to talk sir. all got a coke or something here? A Fresca? Maybe a glass of water?

Paul: Mitch. Bring it in.

Mitch: You sure? It’s a little extreme.

Paul: Gotta do what ya gotta do right?

Mitch: (hangs head – walks into the next room) You’re right.

Guy: (as Mitch exits the room)…So no water I guess?

Paul: Oh, YOU’LL get water my friend

(Mitch comes back rolling in a chalkboard)

Paul: Oh, you’re definitely gonna talk now!

Guy: Is that a chalkboard?

(Mitch banging erasers together) Menacing huh?

Guy: ?

Mitch: It’s menacing right?

Guy: What? You clapping erasers together?

Mitch: Just wait (banging into bigger clouds)…how about now Steeeeeevvve?

Paul: (pulls out some chalk and starts drawing)

Guy: What the hell is that?

Paul: Does this SCAAAAAARE you Steve?

Guy: Is that?…are you drawing drops of water?

Paul: Yes I am Steve…on this chalkboard. Are you ready to talk NOW?

Guy: Wait…seriously?

Paul: What?

Guy: Water drawn on a board? Really? You know that’s not how that works right?

Paul: It’s not?

Guy: No. You’re supposed to have me upside down with a towel or something over my head while you pour…

Donnie: (frantically stands up) Towelhead?! Where!!??

Mitch: Relax sir!

Donnie: Sorry. A knee-jerk thing.

Mitch: We understand.

Guy: …while you pour water on me till I can’t breathe.

Paul: Well, shit. That’s how that really works? Kind of inhumane.

Guy: I know huh?

Donnie: (Grabbing a light bulb and getting right in Steve’s face) You’re probably wondering why we grabbed you outside that coffee shop aren’t you Steve?

Guy: Well, yeh, that thought did occur to me. And what’s with the light bulb?

Donnie: For your interrogation Steve. Duh.

Guy: But it’s not lit. It’s not screwed into anything.

Donnie: Shut up Steve! We grabbed you because…ummmm. (whispering aside to Paul – “why did we grab him?”)

Paul: (still in aside, whispering “because we think he’s Antifa sir…and possibly an organizer”)

Donnie: (“really? That’s bad right? What’s Antifa?”)

Paul: (“Anti facist left wing radicals sir”)

Donnie: (“ANTI fascist? But wait, isn’t that good? Being anti fascist?”)

Paul: (“Not in your case sir”)

Donnie: (“ok…I’ll take your word for it”)…we grabbed you because you’re an Antifa radical!!!

Guy: What? No! I was just grabbing a cup of coffee. And even if I was, wouldn’t being ANTI fascist be a good thing.

Donnie: Yes, of course…wait…no…dammit I’m so confused.

Paul: Sir?!

Guy: I was just grabbing a cup of coffee…

Paul: “Just grabbing a cup of coffee?” You make me laugh antifa pig.

Guy: (sigh)

Paul: Weren’t you thinking of organizing a protest?!

Guy: By grabbing a cup of coffee?

Mitch: C’mon now Steve. Look at the board!! WITH WATER DROPS DRAWN ON IT!!
Tell the truth Steve!

Guy: (to self “Jesus Christ”)…Ok, whatever. I stepped out of line.


Guy: My wife called…

Paul: …now we’re getting somewhere…

Guy: …and I stepped out of the line to take the call. I didn’t want to be rude.

Paul: …”didn’t want to be rude”…that’s rich, like YOU’RE concerned with civility.

Mitch: …isn’t it true that you stepped out of the line to allow two immigrants ahead of you?

Guy: Two immigrants?

Mitch: Yes!

Guy: You mean Bob and Tammy?

Paul: Oh there you go, giving them names. That’s how it starts.

Mitch: Shut up Paul! Yeh sure, Bob and Tammy, whatever you say Steve…

Guy: …no, really, that was Bob and Tammy. They’re friends of mine. Live next door. My wife called and…

Mitch: …but they’re brown. Stephen Miller warns us about them all the time…

Donnie: …Browns?! Where?! Somebody get Steve King on the line. Browns!!!

Mitch: …relax sir…

Donnie: …sorry, can’t help it…

Mitch: …it’s Ok sir…

Guy: …they’re not brown. They just got back from vacation in the Keys. They have tans.

Mitch: (stops) …tans?

Guy:…yeh, tans.

Paul: …uhhh, just tans?

Guy: …yeh, that’s it…tans

Paul: …well I uh…just tans…really?…they still shouldn’t have names though…

Mitch: Cut him loose Paul.

Paul: Why? Cutting him loose is a mistake!! There’s more here I know it.

Mitch: Shut up Paul.

(on the phone)

Steve King: Hello? Iowa White National Hotline. If you ain’t white you ain’t right. He He. That shit just makes me laugh…who’s this?


Mitch: Sir, please calm down.

Guy: Can I get a soda? That Fresca?

Paul: Shut up Steve!! This isn’t your mom’s kidnapping!

Guy: Sorry.

Steve King: Is that you Mr President?



Donnie: Mitch, call Miller – I need a speech! We’re going to IOWA!!

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Musical Interlude – "Till I Check It Myself" – The Lyrics

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & Music Interlude Haters Club)

“Till I Check It Myself”  

(Video open – A Destiny Pictures Production – Donnie dancing in robes and powdered wig away from the White House toward Supreme Court Building – a continuing follow throughout) 
Got a SCOTUS in my pocket going going ching-a-ling-a-Sing
Wanna crawl up in his fine robes, give him some bling
And every time I do I ask the same old thing
I want your loyaltee, you judgees and you’ll get to kiss my ring
My SCOTUS, my own law, don’t just judge by yourself
I said, “don’t pass no judgement, till I check it myself”
(Cut to Robert Palmer-esque shot of deadpan Kellyanne, Laura Ingraham and Hucksterbee in brown shirts in the Rose Garden looking ALMOST hot on the air gee-tar (until the closeup). Diamond and Silk (Zirconium and Polyester) are, of course, playing rhythm – singing backup)
Ooh, Judgey Judgey Judgey you know to see it my way
You know that I’m your POTUS baby, you have to see it that way
Now I’ll tell you a story ’bout fake news and the now
I’ll say no truthee, no storee comes out without me any how
My SCOTUS, my own law, don’t just judge by yourself
I said, “don’t pass no judgement, till I check it myself
(more of first cut and Donnie continuing to forward dance until he reaches the steps to the Supreme Court Building – dramatic stop – directly into the camera with pursed lips and outstretched pressed thumb/pointer fingers)
You see I wanted law bad, and I was throwing it to Heck
Then they talked of Constitution, started looking for checks
I said Country it’s my law for the rest of your life
Press said no babee, BUT we’ll stay maybee if we story the strife
My SCOTUS, my own law, don’t just judge by yourself
I said, “don’t pass no judgement, till I check it myself”
(finish with music trailing and Donnie dancing/ascending the steps to a happy ending and brown shirts…up for interpretation…Stephen Miller closes the last shot, following behind sweeping with a broom and dustpan)

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #6: "Who The Hell Is Alfred?"

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & Alfred Haters Club)

Ben: Are you alright sir?

Donnie: (trying to hide wiping his eyes) …what?…yes, of course…shit Ben! Why are you still here?

Ben: I’m kind of like your Alfred sir.

Donnie: Alfred?

Ben: Alfred.

Donnie: Alfred?

Ben: Batman? His butler?

Donnie: Oh, butler. Yes, I get butler.

Ben: No, not just A butler, an any butler, but Alfred, THE butler. Batman’s butler.

Donnie: Sorry Ben, I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Ben: I’m like Alfred sir, the butler to Batman? Alfred? It would make you a superhero?

Donnie: But if you’re a butler why do you have to have a name? It’s not good practice to personalize the help with names Ben, like they’re almost equals. Single digit numbers work best, especially for me. And why do I have to be a superhero? I’m the President (side slide step) “can’t touch this!” and soon you legally won’t be able to touch this (side slide step back) “Got a little SCOTUS in my pocket going jing-a-ling-a-ling”. All my butlers were just butler…”hey butler do this…hey butler do that…hey butler there’s something in my teeth floss me…hey butler cover for me while I go do sex stuff…I mean aren’t all butlers just…you know…butler? Or secret service agents?

Ben: But sir. I could be your butler Alfred. Did you hear me say superhero? This treehouse could be your superhero lair.

Donnie: Lair?

Ben: Like a cave. Your superhero cave.

Donnie: But this is a tree Ben. You’re confusing me now. And aren’t caves kind of dank?

Ben: Ok, shouldn’t have mentioned caves. Just a more comfortable point of reference. But I could have all sorts of superhero stuff for you sir, right here in the treehouse. Every time you’d come home to the treehouse I could have new toys that would help you in your fight against the scourge of liberal elites and truth and the…

Donnie: Toys? You’re not getting weird on me are you Ben?

Ben: What?…Oh God No!

Donnie: ’cause that’s not my thing. Well…

Ben: …Oh, I’m sure it’s not sir…not your thing…I get it. But I could have all these cool gadgets & weapons ready at your disposa…

Donnie: …Ben, just stop. How about you just NOT be Alfred ok, or Ben and just be butler? Sorry, just be Ben, not butler, and stop trying to get me to use toys with you. Not now anyway. Where the hell were we?

Ben: I was asking if you were crying?

Donnie: …what?…no, of course not! I don’t…Trumps don’t cry Ben. We don’t even know what crying is.

Ben: Well, it’s when you get upset, when some sort of emotional trauma produces a physical response, like say, tears…

Donnie: Shut up Ben. Tears? You don’t think these are tears do you?

Ben: You are wiping your eyes on your sleeve. Looks kinda like a sponge right now, like you could wring it out and drown a cat.

Donnie: Cat’s again?

Ben: Well, they’re furry and cuddly and I’m just trying to protect them. I’m just concerned for the cats…but is it the children sir?

Donnie: Children? What children?

Ben: The one’s at the border sir.

Donnie: What children at the border?

Ben: The children at the border sir. The one’s you’ve ripped away from their parents and put in camps with your racist, black hearted Draconian prevention policy?  You know, the children and toddlers you’ve justified doing this to because they could be gang leaders? Is it these children that you have no plan for reuniting with their families that you’re crying for?

Donnie: (waves hand slightly in Ben’s direction) …there are no children…

Ben: ?

Donnie: …these aren’t the children you’re looking for Ben.

Ben: You’re not trying to use some sort of Obi Wan Jedi thing on me are you?

Donnie: Dammit! I’ve been practicing that one too. It works really well on Kellyanne.

Ben:  Well, she is kind of dim. Recent marathon on TV?

Donnie: Yeh.

Ben: I watched it too.

Donnie: I love those first three.

Ben: You do? Really?

Donnie: Yeh, love how Palpatine really comes into his own. And that Jar Jar, funny motherfucker…and with a silly accent. Accents are just funny aren’t they? Not American of course, he should have been American, should have been forced to be American, but still funny.

Ben: You know those are just movies right? Fictional?

Donnie: Well, of COURSE I do (note to self: “shit! not historically accurate”)…but the sleight of hand wave, or for me, the heavy handed, poorly spoken overenunciated pursed lipped double hand pressed thumb/finger points racism wave works so well on the base.

Ben: I know it does sir. But they also actually believe you to be a truthful man. Or just don’t care.

Donnie: Good point.

Ben: Plus, Obi Wan isn’t really you’re style.

Donnie: Right. Just dissapeared from the fight. Whoooosh, gone. Pile of clothes. Pussy.

Ben: You’re more the hand squeeze the throat kinda guy.

Donnie: Another good point.

Ben: But what WERE you crying about?

Donnie: Again…(sigh)…I wan’t crying Ben. I just had some truth in my eye is all. Plus…well…I lost another one.

Ben: Sir?

Donnie: Pinky.

Ben: Pinky?

Donnie: Pruitt.

Ben: Pruitt?

Donnie: Scott Pruitt Ben! Pinky!

Ben: Oh right. Is that what the shoebox is for?

Donnie: Yeh, I gotta bury him in the backyard.

Ben: Not much room left in that backyard sir.

Donnie: No, there isn’t.

Ben: And ya gotta be running out of shoeboxes at this point.

Donnie: I know. I keep having to dump out the rocks from the ones I have left on the bookshelf.

Ben: Well I’m sure Melania or even Ivanka have plenty of taxpayer funded shoeboxes you could use. You know, to put your rocks back into? I know how much you love those shoeboxes of rocks on your bookshelf.

Donnie: Yeh, they are a point of pride.

Ben: As they should be sir.

(banging sounds and muffled moans down the tree)

“Watch his head asshole!”


“He’s gotta answer questions. Can’t do that if we keep banging his fucking head on the tree asshole!”

“So what, ya gotta repeat asshole?!”

“Well if ya are one gotta be one, just own it and stop being a dick”

“Oh, so I’m a dick now too?”

“Yeh, asshole wasn’t enough. Plus there’s a symmetry”

(Donnie and Ben rush to the treehouse door…look down)

Donnie: Hey! What the fuck is going on down there?

Paul “Risky” Ryan: (looking up holding the rope) We got one for you sir!

Donnie: One what?

(more banging and moaning)

Mitch “Marble Mouth” McConnell: We…I…got one for you double sir!

Paul: “Double sir?” Seriously?

Mitch: Yeh! I sir-ed him doubly!!

Paul: Fuck you. We got one for you triple sir! And what’s with the “I?” by the way? It’s a team effort here!!

Mitch: You want I should just drop him? (lets loose the rope a little)

Paul: Oh. like you’re just holding him on your own! (lets loose the rope a little as well – another bounce on the tree – more moans)

Mitch: Ok, Ok!

Donnie: (to Ben) Do you think I need another shoebox?

Ben: For who? Not sure if one will do.

Donnie: Hey! You’re both assholes and dicks and whatever and I don’t have enough shoeboxes or room in the backyard. Just bring it up!

(To Be Continued….)

Paul: Hold your end turtle!

(rope slips)

Mitch: Stop calling me turtle!

(rope slips further)

Mitch: And why do you call me turtle anyway?

Paul: ’cause you look like one out of its shell.

Mitch: Oh, well that’s the just mean…shit!

(rope slips a bit more)

Paul: And stop calling me risky!

Mitch: But that one’s so obvious! Check the deficit!

(rope lets go)

Paul: Son of  a bitch!!

Mitch: Told you!!

(plop sound. moans)

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #5: "Balloons and Doorbells"

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & Singing Doorbell Haters Club)

Donnie: (looking around the treehouse admiringly)…finally this place is a little more tidy. (turns) Hey Be…Jesus! (bumps into and almost steps on Ben Carson who is stoically standing directly behind him)

Ben: Sir?

Donnie: Dammit Ben! I hate when you do that!

Ben: Do what sir?

Donnie: Sneak up on me! Like some sort of black ninja!

Ben: I didn’t sneak up sir. You called for me and I came.

Donnie: But I didn’t even finish your name.

Ben: Just trying to anticipate sir.

Donnie: Shit! Don’t you have anything better to do?

Ben: Not really sir. I just come when you cal…

Donnie: …aren’t you in my cabinet?

Ben: Yes sir. Right next to the dinner plates and the coffee mugs.

Donnie: He He He! Nice one. That shit doesn’t get old…but NO, don’t you have anything better to do?

Ben: Well I’m sure I do but it’s just that…this housing and urban thing?…development?…it’s just so much work and it’s lots of poor people to worry about. I don’t like poor people. Kind of depressing really.

Donnie: Ok, I’ll give you that, but, well, YOU, Ben, of all people, really should be careful with that sneaking up…that…anticipation as you call it Ben. If you know what I mean?

Ben: I don’t understand sir.

Donnie: YOU Ben. Ya know. YOU? I mean I might take you for a…a uhhh….a mugger or something…or maybe someone waiting for a friend for coffee.

Ben: I still don’t understand sir.

Donnie: (sigh… to self “still the fucking dumbest smart guy ever”) You’re still black right?

Ben: ?


Ben: Ohhhhhh, right, black…mugger…just a guy waiting for a friend for coffee…I get ya.

Donnie: Exactly. Wouldn’t wanna accidentally (feverishly checking his pockets) get you shot or tased for possibly not resisting.

Ben: Good point. I would hate that. Did you lose something?

Donnie: (eventual sigh of relief – still has wallet & cell phone) What?…no…no. We bumped into each other is all. No, we’re good. So I see the place has been cleaned up?

Ben: Yes sir. Managed to get those shrink wrapped pallets of kick back mon…

Donnie: Dues Ben. Club dues.

Ben: Oh Right. Dues. My bad. Managed to get them all down the tree and under your mattress in the residence. It wasn’t easy though.

Donnie: Why?

Ben: Well the Secret Service. They get all prickly. “You want in the residence of the PRESIDENT why?” “You wanna hide stuff under the PRESIDENT’S mattress why? “That guy with you speaks Russian why?” “You want my foot off your neck why?” So many questions. They’re really sticklers with this whole security thi…

Donnie: …I know, seriously. It’s really annoying. And it’s not like I need it. I can take care of myself.

Ben: They spoon feed you apple sauce and meds sir and call you Treezy.

Donnie: Hey that’s completely different…and between you and me. Plus, they like calling me Treezy, Kanye came up with it. Kind of a pet name thing and it’s my “designation” when I’m “on the move” You told them you’re my boy though right? After all the questions? What you’re doing is on my orders right?

Ben: Yes…they still didn’t like it thou…

Donnie: …they’re not paid to like it Ben. Just to loyally turn their heads when need be and keep my money from getting shot…keep ME, I mean, from gettin’ shot by some fucking crazed liberal or worse.

Ben: Worse?

Donnie: Could be a brown one.

Ben: Oh, yes. Another good point sir. Brown. Be careful of the brown ones.

Donnie: Yeh, Miller warns me of the danger all the time.

Ben: Stephen is ever vigilant sir when it comes to brown.

Donnie: Writes some damn fine, fan the flames speeches for me too. Gets people all “Us vs Them” riled up. I love it!

Ben: Yes. He’s quite the incendiary poet sir. A little creepy, but quite the poet.

Donnie: Just a little creepy?

Ben: Well, Ok, a lot creepy, but that’s not for me to say.

Donnie: You just said it.

Ben: I did, didn’t I?

Donnie: Yes. You did.

Ben: Sorry, nothing gets by you sir.

Donnie: No, it doesn’t. And you’re Ok. He really is a creepy little son a bitch.

Ben: Well, I’ll let you say that sir.

Donnie: I just did. But he’s MY creepy little son of a bitch.

Ben: Right you are. Good to have his creepy on our side. But back to our point, lowering everything down by rope can be quite challenging.

Donnie: You had help though, right?

Ben: Yes. I went to Home Depot like you said, early in the morning, found some day guys, loaded them in the White House pickup truck…

Donnie: (quick anger) The White House pickup truck!!!

Ben: (fearful) …ummm, yes sir?…the White Hou…

Donnie: Jesus Christ Ben!! You can’t use an official White House vehicle! Especially not the pickup truck!

Ben: But it was the old one sir, you know, that one that no one wants to drive because it’s a money pit and breaks down all the time, needs an alignment ’cause it’s always pulling to the right, has a Jesus bobblehead, can’t pass emmissions regs and still has a Reagan sticker on it?

Donnie: (heavy sigh) Yes! Exactly! THAT pickup truck. But doesn’t it still say White House on it?

Ben: It’s faded.

Donnie: Whatever Ben. Faded or not it still says White House. You HAVE to use something a little more discreet next time. I mean, hell, you gotta have family members that have a beater for shit like this. I mean you all drive beaters right?

Ben: ?

Donnie: Never mind. You said it can be challenging?

Ben: Yes. Besides the difficulty of lowering everything down by rope those day guys were a little tough to give direction to.

Donnie: What’s tough Ben? You just point at stuff, make some insistent hand gestures and then pay them cash when they’re done. Fantasitc salads by the way.

Ben: I know that sir, one of my better lunches recently, I love the corn, but aren’t there any government employees or others, ones that speak English, that could do the job? Any that could use the overtime or just USE the work?

Donnie: Whoa there Benny Boy! Don’t go gettin’ all maverick on me with this talk of overtime…and no, they won’t do the job. Some shit about it being below them. Plus this is tax free. Promise the cash, get the job done, and drive ’em back to Home Depot…done…but in a DIFFERENT pickup truck next time.

Ben: Noted.

(Treehouse doorbell rings in tune “Someone’s knockin’ at the door, Somebody’s ringin’ the bell”)

Donnie: What the fuck is that?

Ben: Ummmm, a doorbell sir?

Donnie: I get that Ben! But when the hell did we get a doorbell? A singing fucking doorbell?

Doorbell: “Someone’s knockin’ at the door, Somebody’s ringin’ the bell”)

Ben: When “Zoo” Zinke ordered you that new impressive door for the Treehouse here they threw in a doorbell. A fancy one that sings.

Doorbell: “Do me a favor, Open the door and let ’em in” 

Donnie: It IS a nice door.

Ben: It really is.

Donnie: Cool tune too.

Ben: I know.

Donnie: Is that a Beatle?

Ben: I think so sir.

Donnie: Loved those guys. Sad that they weren’t American.

Ben: I agree.

Donnie: They SHOULD have been American. We should have forced them to be American.

Ben: I continue to agree, though this was McCartney solo.

Donnie: What?

Ben: This was Paul McCartney solo sir. He wasn’t a Beatle then.

Donnie: Oh. good. ‘Cause if he was I would have called for his birth certificate.

Ben: Why sir?

Donnie: To prove he wasn’t American…duh.

Ben: But we already knew he wasn’t Ameri…

Donnie: Ben?!!

Ben: Gotcha.

Donnie: So does this special Zinke door have one of those eye thingys?

Ben: ?

Doorbell (again): “Someone’s knockin’ at the door. Somebody’s ringin’ the bell”

Donnie: Eye thingys Ben. You know, to see who’s on the other side of the door?

Ben: Oh, yes. Right there. (pointing to the middle of the door)

Doorbell: “Someone’s knockin’ at the door. Somebody’s ringin’ the bell”

Donnie: (peering through eye thingy) It’s a guy with…balloons?

Ben: (pretending surprise) Oh….REALLY??…a guy with balloons??…I wonder what HE could POSSSIBLY want?? Maybe you should let him in?

Donnie: Well, alrig…

Doorbell: “Do me a favor, Ope…”


Doorbell: “…n and let ‘e…….” (dying doorbell sound)

Donnie: …Wow, that was cool for like 5 seconds. Really, should I let him in?

Ben: (with a wide smile) I think you should.

(balloon messenger enters singing)

“Oh say Ken-nedy, by the dawn’s backwards light…”

Donnie: Singing?

Ben: It’s a thing sir. Or it used to be. All about throwback these days.

“…what so Duetsche bank we bor-rowed, at the twilight of democracy.

Whose broad strokes of court’s pen, a loyal future so bright

what a gift was brought us, through an unright partisan fight”

Donnie: Wow, this guy’s got some lungs

Ben: I know huh?

“And the rockets…”

Donnie: Ooooooh, I like rockets.

Ben: I know you do sir.

Donnie: Think we can parade them?

Ben: Oh. I’m sure we can sir.

“…and the rockets red flair, Putin tousling my hair…”

Donnie: Damn, this is good.

Ben: Chills sir.

“…gave proof to the right, that our flag was still my prop…”

Donnie: That one is a little off.

Ben: Yeh, just a bit

Donnie: Not the lyric. it just came off a bit…flat ya know?

Ben: With ya sir

“…Oh say does that red, white and no blue banner yeeeeeeeet Maaaaagaaaaa…”

“…O’er…” (singer stops) Hold on. Favorite part. I love singing “O’er”

Donnie: Love hearing it!

“…O’er the land of wealthy elite…and the home of the…whoever’s dumb enough to buy into my cult of personality and follow me down autocracy road”

Donnie: Bravo!! Though that last bit didn’t really fit. A little long I think.

Singer: Sorry sir. Got carried away.

Donnie: It’s Ok son. Let those sons of bitches kneel to that! Inspiring! Do you have any young girls in matching shirts who can sing it with you?

Singer: I’m sure I could find some.

Donnie: A family of sisters?

Singer: No problem sir.

Donnie: Brown shirts?

Singer: Certainly sir.

Donnie: Great! I’ll call Laura. Kellyanne too. They’ll be Sooooooo excited. The balloons are very cool too. Square. Very retro I’m guessing? Turn of the centrury images of sweat shops are a nice touch.

Ben: That was my idea. They’re even filled with hydrogen for effect.

Donnie: (pat on the head) this calls for a cigar.

Ben: Careful with that cigar sir.

Donnie: Clam it Ben.


Donnie: (aside) You got any cash on ya?

Ben: ?

Donnie: For a tip numbnuts.

Ben: Oh right. (confused) What?…You tip?

Donnie: Never. But It’ll be your money and look like me.

Ben: Smart sir.

Donnie: I know.