Inside Trump's Brain

THE SETTING: An idea has just been put on the table.

THE CAST (in order of appearance):

Sensible Opposition (aka the grown-up in the room, voice of reason, Sanity).

The Bad Idea.

Trump’s Gut.

Trump’s Brain—the final word.

Trump’s Mouth

An unlimited cast of loco extras—bad ideas from anywhere and everywhere, all unchecked and  uncensored.

THE SCENE: A decision must be made on whether to make the idea official, which is to say, whether to put it on Twitter or save it for another day.

Inside Trump's Brain

“No, no, no, a million times no,” said the voice of reason.

“Shut up. Don’t listen to it, Brain. This is the best idea, ever. People will think you’re a genius.”

“People will think you’re an idiot. No one has ever thought you were a genius. Not once has anyone ever thought you were a genius.”

“I think he’s a genius.”

“Who said that? Is that you, Gut? Can’t you mind your own business just once? I might even stand a chance of getting him to do the right thing for the first time in his life if you would stay out of it.”

“He wants me here. He likes me. He listens to me a whole lot more than he does to you guys.”

“Wait a minute. He listens to me. He listens to me all the time. He’s been listening to me for so long, he doesn’t even have to think about it,” said the boastful bad idea.

“And who do you think is responsible for that?”

“Okay, you are, Gut, but he still needs me. Without me, he’d only be hooked on a feeling, with nothing there. I give him something real to latch onto. Those dumb-ass ideas don’t come out of the blue, you know.”

“Don’t you guys get it? The voice of reason was growing more frustrated. “You’re both responsible—responsible for making him look like an idiot. You, Bad Idea, when are you going to grow up? And you, Gut, you keep jumping on these bad ideas like a vulture on a piece of fly-infested road kill. When are you going to realize no one in their right mind jumps on dead meat?

“All I’m asking for is a minute...a lousy minute...to try and talk some sense into him...to make him understand the consequences of listening to a bad idea and a gut telling him there’s no such thing as a bad idea.”

“Did I hear someone say dead meat?” asked Trump’s Brain, which was listening but not really paying attention. “I’m hungry.”

“I said dead meat,” said the obviously outnumbered sensible opposition. “I was talking about the bad idea that was just given to you, before Gut jumped in and was about to congratulate you on another brainstorm.”

“Oh, you again. Why do you always have to spoil everything? Every time I get a good idea, an idea that Gut tells me is not only a good idea, but a really great idea coming out of a really great mind—and not just a great mind, but probably the greatest mind ever, you come along and try to kill it. I wish I could lock you up somewhere and throw away the key. Ain’t I right, Gut?”

“I’m on it right now, boss. Me and dumb-ass idea have you covered.”

“Oh, my God. Do you hear yourselves? Brain, you know that those dumb-ass ideas and that don’t-know-a-dumb-ass-idea-from-a-hole-in-the-ground Gut who’s always telling you what a genius you are for latching onto all those dumb-ass ideas...you know they are killing you?

“Wait a minute. I don’t have to listen to you insult me and Gut,” said Brain.

“Or me,” said the Bad Idea.

“You never listen to me. You should, but you never do. And what has a lifetime of not listening to me, a sensible voice of reason crying out in a vast wasteland of shallow obtuseness...what has that stubbornness ever gotten you? What has a lifetime built on one dumb-ass idea after another, ideas you can’t even explain if you want to, which I am aware, you don’t want to, but what has this love-affair with ignorance gotten you?”

The Sensible Opposition, feeling a new sense of confidence as reason is often apt to do in the presence of unmitigated ignorance, began preaching.

“I’ll tell you what it has gotten you. You are the laughing stock of anyone with half a brain if that brain is listening to its better half. Brain, you can’t even explain half the crap you come up with. One more thing. I can tell you with complete certainly, that mouth doesn’t like doing you dirty work. Making sense out of you makes his life miserable. Having to explain the in-explainable is humiliating and it’d be the first to tell you.”

Mouth strained to say something, but was unable to speak.

“Then why doesn’t it?” It seems an ignorant Brain always has a comeback for everything.

“You know it can’t’ do anything without going through you. The power Gut has over you is only overshadowed by the control you have over Mouth.”

“And you really think that is so bad?” asked Gut, boastfully.

“I’ve already told you what I think. It has made us—all of us—the laughing stock of the world.”

“Maybe. Maybe we are the laughing stock of the world,” said Brain with Gut urging him on. Need I remind you, though, that we are a laughing stock, which also happens to be president?”

“And that makes it better?”

“It doesn’t make it worse.”

“Are you serious? A president who is also a laughing stock is as bad as it gets. It doesn’t get any worse. Thinking any differently is just one more bad idea.”

“Which is one more bad idea that I wholeheartedly support,” said Gut.

“I’d like to change the subject.”

“Who are you? The Brain, the two other bad ideas, the seriously outnumbered sensible opposition, and the Gut asked simultaneously.

“I’m another bad idea.”

“Really! No, no, no, a million times no,” said the voice of reason for the millionth time. “With all the bad ideas floating around, you think Brain needs one more? Again, No, no, no, a million times no.”

“I’m game,” said Gut. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m buying.”

“Hey, what about me? I was here first,” said the original bad idea, knowing full well the competition bad ideas faced in an environment where bad ideas were always hatching.

“Actually, no one knows who was here first,” said Brain. “If I were a sane brain, you’d all be in line waiting your turn. I suppose there would also be a good idea or two scattered among you, assuming Gut didn’t get to them first. There’d be examination, explanation, evaluation, even I reckon, some consternation. I’ll tell you, I don’t want any part of that world.

“I like it just the way it is.” Brain looked around and smiled. Bad ideas were everywhere, milling around aimlessly, bumping into and tripping over each other, pushing and shoving.

Like the grown-up, well-behaved child in a classroom of mischievous tykes, Sensible Opposition was ready to throw in the towel.

“None of you even know which was here first—not that it matters. You’re all beginning to pile up like sausage falling out of a grinder in a butcher shop.”

“Did someone say sausage? I love sausage,” said Brain, forgetting for a moment everything else it had swirling around.

“God help us,” said Sanity, silently to itself.

“It’s not that bad,” said Gut.

“What’s bad? Is there another bad idea, here?”

“There’s always another bad idea, here. All we have showing up is one bad idea after another.”

“Welcome to my world,” said Brain.

“You can thank me,” said Gut.

“Don’t forget me,” said a random bad idea.

“Or us,” said all the other bad ideas.

“I give up,” said Sensible Opposition.

“I think it’s time to vote.” said Gut.

“All in favor?” asked Brain.

“Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye,” said a gaggle of bad ideas all pushing to get in front.

“All opposed?” asked Brain, looking in the direction of Sensible Opposition, while also trying to locate Trump’s iPhone.

“Does it matter? A defeated Sensible Opposition shriveled in a vacant corner of Trump’s brain.

“The bad idea has it,” said Brain, nudging the president out of a deep sleep and guiding him to his phone. It looked distracted.

“What’s wrong?” Gut asked, but it was obvious it didn’t care.

“Oh, I was trying to remember where Sarah was,” said Brain. “As usual, she’s gonna have some ‘splainin’ to do.”

“Wait for me,” said Gut. “She listens to me, too.”

“Me too,” said a bad idea that just arrived.

“And me,” said an old bad idea looking for a second chance.