Andrew L. Pincus: Two crows assess a barrage of tweets
Two crows land on the White House lawn, greedy for carrion. They've heard there's road kill — former employees of the occupant, including a badly mutilated FBI director.
A man with funny orange hair appears on the front balcony. He reaches into his pocket.
"Caw caw caw!" One crow sounds the alarm. "Watch out! He's got a gun!"
"No, bird brain," his pal replies. "He's going to tweet. Caw!"
"Why on earth would anyone tweet when he could caw?"
They watch the fingers fly.
In the land, times are bad. Coal is dying. The wall hasn't been built. The rich can't afford new yachts. Ivanka can only get $500,000 per guest visa for her business pals. Scientists are running amok, crying Chicken Little from the sky. The courts lie, the media lie, the FBI and CIA lie. The Constitution is a disaster.
The message hums across the fretful globe. I am king. I am lord of all. All bow down. That means you, North Korea! ISIS, die!
Smoke issues from the red-hot instrument.
"Caw, he's puffed up bigger than you when you go after that babe with the cute yellow beak."
"Caw, shut up and listen."
Behold, I am golden. See my golden ceilings. See my name in gold on rooftops around the world. I shall have golden golf balls made for my very own brand.
"The golden calf! I knew it! Caw!""Not calf, dummy. He's all bull."
A hawk circles overhead. Plainly inscribed on his belly is the name Giuliani.
"Caw! Caw! Caw!" The pals sound the alert. From around the capital, glossy black birds darken the sky. They mob the intruder, cawing, harrying and dive-bombing until he flees. The reinforcements return to their dinners.
On the balcony, the man with the orange hair is unruffled.
Illegals under the bed! Mexico pays! Stolen votes. Hillary sucks prunes. Who was Nixon? Never heard of Putin. Watergate? Waterboard! Fake news! Sad!
A crow could starve around here. They were told there'd be bodies. Fake news.
Health care for all! I passed a law! Call Fox News!"
Foxes? Let's get outa here!"
"It's cable, dummy. That's where he finds out what to say."
"He's nothing to crow about."
I hold the button! Make room on Mount Rushmore! Move over, Lincoln! Don't bug my phone! Jobs saved! Millions of jobs! Billions of jobs
The cellphone overheats and explodes. The Secret Service rushes out, guns blazing. They kill a squirrel. Din-din. The crows gorge themselves. Flying home, over the White House, they let go.
The next day, the press secretary, trying to untweet the tweets, eats crow.
Andrew L. Pincus is an occasional Eagle contributor.
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