“Take this job and shove it! I ain’t working here no more.”

—Johnny Paycheck


Harry Caines

Two hours before I typed this sentence, Gary Cohn resigned as President Donald J. Trump’s chief economic advisor. This is major news because Cohn was one of the few people working in the Trump White House that actually knew how to do his job.

This happened in the same week that Hope Hicks, Trump’s Communication Director, announced she is leaving. Also this week, Chief of Staff John Kelly gave an interview where he appeared to openly lament taking his current job. Every day that passes, Kelly resembles an aging Mafioso perfectly at peace with taking a one-way ride to the New Jersey Pine Barrens.

Many people have come and gone from the Trump White House in the 13 months that this incompetent, mentally imbalanced carny has been in office. He promised to hire only the best people. He hired his family, his former reality game show contestants and zealous wackadoos that were woefully underqualified for their jobs.

And now Cohn is gone. His departure was likely caused by Trump’s decision to start a trade war with the world using tariffs, which runs counter to Cohn’s belief in free trade. This is a big deal.

And none of Trump’s followers care. Most Trumpkins only want their cult of personality to continue to blow that dog whistle that sounds the clarion call for racists, xenophobes, gun nuts, misogynists and the undereducated to come praise him (Him?). Keep it simple and stupid and most of Trump’s deplorable followers will ignore that the White House is a den of deficient dolts.

Few people with a political acumen want to work for this guy. Many who do take jobs in the Executive Branch have an array of red flags that make it difficult for them to receive security clearances just to step foot in the building. The people who currently do work at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue look flustered, flummoxed and flat out embarrassed.

With due deference to Simon & Garfunkel, where have you gone Anthony Scaramucci? The president turns his loony eyes to Mooch.

Who wants to work in such a stressful environment for a boss who is obviously delusional and ill-temperate? I will tell you who.

Me.

You read that right. Your Humble Columnist, who has used this space for two years to scathingly rebuke Glorious Orange Leader, wants to work in the Trump White House.

This is not a heel turn. I still believe, emphatically, that Trump is the worst president in American history. He is a threat to world peace. He is chronically lazy. He most likely is compromised by the Russians because of illegal business deals. His complete lack of understanding of his duties coupled with a dearth of intellectual acuity is a danger to everything he touches.

Why would I want to work for this avaricious codger and help promote his agenda? Allow me to present an enumerated list.

  1. I need the work. I am so poor right now I can’t pay attention. A nice government job with benefits sounds good to me. Yeah, the boss is crazy…but I get free dental. I can put up with much abuse for bi-annual teeth bleachings.
  2. I’m from South Philly. I have vast experience dealing with sociopaths and narcissists. I can handle Trump.
  3. I used to work in the hospitality business. I found the chaos and mayhem of that profession to be highly entertaining. No two days in this White House would be the same—not with this erratic lunatic in the Oval Office.

Of course, there would be problems. I would have to move to Washington, D.C. I’ve been there many times. I am not a huge fan of the town. Living in the city proper has little appeal to me, though I would enjoy wearing my Philadelphia Eagles gear surrounded by all of those Redskins fans—provided it would troll them. ‘Skins fans are the epitome of “low energy.”

I could live in Virginia. Bwahahahahahaha!

My best bet is to lodge in my West Wing office. I doubt anyone in the White House would notice. This is the same dopey crew that was unaware the notoriously left-wing, bomb-throwing author Michael Wolff was walking around the building taking notes for a book that trashed everything and everyone in the White House. The sight of me in plaid boxers and a baggy t-shirt sleeping on a futon would barely raise an eyebrow.

Now comes the most important question. What would my job entail?

I could be the new Communications Director. I am more qualified than Hope Hicks was when she took the job. I could do everything for Trump that she did for him.

Well, not everything.

~rim shot~

I could compose Trump’s tweets. The grammatical errors littered in my columns resembles this madman’s barely coherent 5 AM polemics. It is like we share a brain.

And his speeches? Way too easy. No words over five letters long and spaces in sentences for him to adlib adjectives, such as “beautiful” and “amazing.”

I could be the bag boy that drops off hush money to all the porn stars Trump has sex with. If necessary, I would dress up as a plumber or a pizza delivery guy to heighten the experience.

I could be his TV buddy. I’d pick up our McDonald’s breakfast and be in the residence way before “Fox And Friends” comes on. Of course, that would require me to watch “Fox And Friends”. There is only so much I can endure in service to my country. Pass.

I could be the guy that plugs Melania into the charger before bedtime. You all know she’s a robot, right? Look at her. (Charlton Heston voice) SHE’S…NOT…HUMAN!

My preferred job would be the surrogate that goes on CNN and MSNBC. When Jake Tapper would give me that disapproving sourpuss look on his face I would stop in mid-sentence, reach over the table, squeeze his cheeks and say, “A-woogie-woogie-woogie!”

I want this! If I could tolerate it for three months, I would run the place. And then my lifelong plans for world domination would finally come to fruition.

In all seriousness, Trump is a pathetic joke. It should surprise no one that his White House is a revolving door in which criminals and cretons come in and out, passing the few people of competence that work there as the head for the nearest bar to drink their guilt away.

And I want in.

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