Category: Donald Trump

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First Virtual Date

[Scene: Virtual moon base. A glowing futuristic soup stand labeled “APOLLO MED BEDS – NO CHIT-CHAT, NO DEALS.” Joe stands behind the counter in a crisp white uniform with a dramatic mustache prop. Nelly’s next to him, arms crossed, smirking. Trump approaches in his signature suit and red tie, looking impatient.]

Trump: (leaning in, gesturing big) Joe, Nelly—tremendous to see you. Beautiful setup here on the moon. Very high-tech. I hear my health is fading a little—fake news says it’s bad, but believe me, it’s not that bad. But these Space Force generals and admirals? They won’t hand over the Apollo healing program med beds unless I heal everybody for free. Ridiculous! I’m ready to make a deal. A beautiful deal. The best deal.

Joe: (stern, pointing sharply) No talking! Step forward. State your order. One med bed? Point to it. Pay the price: free healing for the people. No negotiations. Move left!

Trump: (blinking) Wait a second. Free healing? For everybody? That’s socialism! I’m talking about a win-win. I get the bed, I feel fantastic—better than ever, folks say I look 30—and then maybe later we trickle down some youth serum. Tremendous plan.

Nelly: (rolling her eyes, leaning on the counter) Oh, please. We’ve heard the pitch. The Admirals won’t budge. You want immortality tech? You heal the masses first. No shortcuts. No Art of the Deal loopholes.

Trump: (waving hand) Nelly, sweetheart, you’re tough. I like tough. But listen—I’m the one who created the Space Force! Me! I can get those generals on the phone right now. We’ll make immortality great again. For me first, obviously. Then everybody else. It’s called sequencing.

Joe: (voice rising, finger snap ready) Sequencing? No! Rules are rules! You think you can waltz in here and bargain? This isn’t Mar-a-Lago! I am the Immortality Nazi! One wrong word…

Trump: (leaning closer, lowering voice) Come on, Joe. Between us—Nelly too—you two seem like smart people. Vancouver vibes, right? Rainy, polite. Let’s cut a side deal. I’ll throw in some NFTs. Golden Trump med bed commemoratives. Huge value.

Nelly: (laughing) NFTs? For eternal life? Nice try.

Joe: (dramatic pause, eyes narrowing) You broke the rules. You chit-chatted. You negotiated!

Trump: (hands up) Hold on! I’m Donald J. Trump! I don’t break rules—I make them!

Joe & Nelly: (in unison, pointing dramatically) NO IMMORTALITY FOR YOU!!!

[A holographic med bed pod slides away with a dramatic whoosh. Trump’s handed a tiny glowing “deposit refund” token that fizzles out.]

Trump: (stunned, stepping back) This is rigged! Totally rigged! I’ll be back in one year—stronger, younger, believe me!

Nelly: (calling after him) One year! And bring proof of free healing—or no soup—er, no immortality—next time!

Joe: (smirking at Nelly) Classic. Works every time.

Nelly: (grinning) Your turn to pick the next virtual stop, Joe. Paris? Tokyo? Or do we chase Trump to Argentina where the original Soup Nazi retired?

Trump: (fading into the hologram distance, yelling) You’ll regret this! The med beds will be mine! Tremendous comeback coming!

[Fade out on Joe and Nelly high-fiving behind the stand, virtual moon glowing behind them.]

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Female Ronald Reagan

Scene: Ottawa, Parliament Hill — The Grand Conference Room

PM Nelly Furtado:
Mr. President, with all due respect, Canada is no longer the polite, quiet neighbor you used to know. Our trees, our rivers, our minerals — they’re not just commodities anymore. They’re the lifeblood of the 21st century.

You talk about deals, Donald. You talk about winning. But tell me — what do you have that we actually need? Fast food? We can cook. Disney? We tell our own stories. Coca-Cola? We have clean water — the real thing. Marlboro cigarettes? We breathe the northern air; we don’t sell poison to our children.

The world is changing, and Canada stands at the crossroads of clean energy, sustainable industry, and human dignity. You once said you wanted to make America great again. I say — make humanity wise again.

Our forests pull carbon from the sky. Our lakes hold more fresh water than any nation on Earth. Our land is not for sale to the highest bidder. It belongs to the generations not yet born.

Donald Trump (smirking):
Nelly, I gotta say, you’re very passionate — very passionate. But you know, I’ve built towers, I’ve built brands — nobody builds better than me. We can make a deal, a tremendous deal. Maybe Canada can sell me some of that “clean air” stuff — we’ll put it in bottles, call it Trump Oxygen. Big hit, huge profits.

PM Furtado (leaning forward, voice steady):
Mr. President, Canada doesn’t bottle its air. We protect it. That’s the difference between empire and stewardship — between ownership and guardianship.

So here’s the deal, Donald: we’ll trade with you — not for profit, but for purpose. Clean technology for clean conscience. Science for sanity. Cooperation for survival.

Because one day, when the oil wells run dry and the oceans rise, you’ll remember: you can’t eat a franchise. You can’t drink a logo. You can’t breathe smoke.

(She pauses. The chamber is silent.)
And when that day comes, Canada will still be standing — singing, “I’m like a bird.”

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Helicopter Psychology

Scene: A private helipad. Nelly Furtado’s sleek helicopter rests beside Donald Trump’s MAGA-branded chopper. The two approach, both visibly annoyed.

Nelly Furtado: (sighs) You know what my therapist wrote in her notebook? “Nelly’s narcissistic helicopter.” That’s what she calls it. Narcissistic. Like I’m punished for just being a rich girl.

Donald Trump: (pointing to his helicopter proudly) Excuse me, Nelly, but my helicopter? Totally not narcissistic. Everybody loves it. It’s the greatest helicopter, maybe ever. Mine’s not about me—it’s about making America great again. It’s a MAGA-copter, not a me-copter.

Nelly Furtado: (folding her arms) That’s the difference. You get rewarded for your helicopter. They cheer, they wave the flags. But me? I get labeled and judged.

Trump: (smirking) Well, maybe you should paint “MAGA” on it. Works every time. Tremendous branding.

Nelly Furtado: (shaking her head) No. I’m done. I’m giving it all up—the private jet, the limos, the helicopter. I’m going to ride the bus with my husband Joe.

Trump: The bus? Nobody rides the bus, Nelly. Believe me, I know buses. They’re disasters.

Nelly Furtado: (smiling softly) That’s exactly the point. Cosmo Kramer said it best: “In order to lead the people, you must travel with them.”

Trump: (pauses, confused) Kramer? From Seinfeld? That guy couldn’t even find his own apartment half the time.

Nelly Furtado: (firmly) He still had a point. Leadership isn’t about helicopters. It’s about humility.

Trump: (snorts) Well, if you want humility, take the bus. But if you want to be great? Take the Trump-copter.

Nelly Furtado: (walking away) No thanks, Donald. Greatness isn’t in the sky—it’s on the ground.

(She heads toward a waiting city bus. Joe waves from the window, holding her a seat. The bus door closes as Trump stares, baffled, beside his MAGA chopper.)

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