“China is already dropping more of its planned importation of corn and beans from America, buying more from Brazil and a lot less from us. Why, you ask? Ouch! I didn’t say his name, Lorita! You didn’t have to hit me that hard!”
“Our family farm may be at risk. We lose income from renting the land to local farmers and we won’t have enough to pay down the loan we took to pay for buying out our brother. The Pumpkinhead has screwed us over with his stupid tariff plans.”
“Excuse me, who is this Pumpkinhead guy?”
“That’s what Uncle Mickey calls the former and future president, Lorita, dear.”
Whack!
“Ouch! I never actually said the name Trump, Lorita!”
Whack! Whack!
“Well, Michael, it was your idea.”
“Yeah… the back of my head is regretting it. I thought we gave that girl a hollow whacking stick.”
“She’s ‘been building arm strength by weaving together Christmas wreaths at Butch’s Christmas tree farm.”
“Oh. Well that’s wonderful that you have a job, Sweetie. But you don’t have to hit me so hard if I accidentally say Trump’s name.”
Whack! Whack! Whack!
“Why did you hit me three times?”
“It’s the third time you said his name.”
“Actually, Sweetie, he only said the name twice.”
Whack! Whack!
“Did I get it right that time?”
“Yes, Sweetie. But you have given me brain damage.”
“Shall I kiss it, Uncle Mickey?”
“Yes, please. That makes it better.”
Smooch!
Okay, I confess it. This is all made up for laughs because the Pumpkinhead has done enough to make me mad. In truth, we did not get to go to the farm in Iowa for Thanksgiving Dinner at my Sister Mary’s place. My daughter is sick and confined to the house with flu here in the Dallas suburbs. My wife is still in the Philippines burying her mother. And Lorita is entirely imaginary. But some day we will look back on the end of the world and have a fond laugh… and maybe a wistful cry.
Catch a Falling Star 