Brave new Trump world coming soon

July 28, 2025

Editor’s Note: The following series, “Life in Radically Gentrifying Cayucos by the Sea,” to be posted biweekly includes the notes, thoughts, and opinions of an original American voice: author Dell Franklin. 

Franklin’s memoir, “The ballplayer’s Son” and “Life on The Mississippi, 1969” are currently on Amazon.

I see it now: Billboards and neon signs on every block in every city, as well as on highways and country roads and along railroad tracks, bordering farms and ranches and factories and food processing plants and mills of various sorts, all advertising Trump goods beneath gigantic photos of the orange master of and messiah to all, hawking whatever you need and don’t need, but especially himself, hovering like a gargantuan blimp taking up half the sky and drawing a shadow over the land so that only Donald Trump glitters beneath the pall.

By this time, of course, Trump will be the richest man in the world and Musk and various billionaire oligarchs will hover timidly near his throne or be in jail or behind fences teeming with wild, vicious animals or gulags if not marginalized for whatever reasons.

Look out, Zuckerburg! Thiel! Bezos! Etc!

Members of congress, no matter their party, will be required to wear blue blazers and red ties. When they golf at one of the king’s new courses, they will swing Trump golf clubs and hit Trump golf balls and wear tasseled Trump golf shoes, sweaters, windbreakers, slacks, caps, socks, sunglasses and stick pins; and use Trump tees, score cards, pencils, pens, gloves, carts, etc, etc.

Afterwards, in the plush country club, they will drink Trump liquor, beer and wine and eat Trump steaks or the triple-decker bacon and cheese Trump burgers only, because if you wanna golf at one of his clubs you better by God be a meat-eating killer and not some chicken liver vegan pussy!

Supreme Court members will be sworn in on Trump bibles and adhere to Trump’s amendments to the Constitution now that he has over 60% advantage in the senate and judges throughout the land, his media-wave of race baiting and smug cruelty taking over every voting district in the country except California, which is seceding and on the verge of war with America.

Weekly rallies will be held in massive, cavernous, echoing venues, the messiah bleating of taking over this land and that, the salivating devotees, slathered in Trump regalia, spewing joyous martyred vengeance upon the enemy (woke libs, DEI, Europe, non-whites…) while scarfing Trump chips and candy, gnawing on Trump beef jerky, and guzzling Trump power drinks guaranteed to produce the most dynamic and titillating and overpowering energy known to mankind.

The ubiquitous, hovering signs will sell specific products manufactured specifically for the kind of men’s men who idolize Donald J. Trump: Penis enhancers that allow little wiggly-wagglers to grow several inches until they reach the same size of the great Trump golf hero Arnold Palmer’s famous appendage; a new strain of Trump Viagra that will make this enhanced appendage so spectacular it will turn timid virgins into sexual slaves (guaranteed by DJT himself); authentic natural blond hair (it’s a secret where it comes from) guaranteed to form on your bald scalp and puff up in place with a secret potion like the messiah’s.

The monarch himself will be ensconced permanently in America’s new official headquarters and capitol replacing the stodgy White House–the Mar-a-Lago golden-domed Taj Mahal–where DJT, in his late 80s, roosts upon an elevated throne, now weighing in at 330 pounds, occasionally raising his oozing bulk and growling, “Eat, eat, eat!”

Then, appearing increasingly wroth: “Goddammit, eat you scrawny mothers, eat my fucking food!”

Whereupon Don Jr., Eric and Baron flip special Trump skinny burgers to the scrambling mob.

For those who cannot get enough of Trump–although not a minute of your life will not be suffocated by him–there’s the mecca and gold-plated statue of Donald Trump now looming over the Lincoln Memorial–heavily guarded by armed members of Trump’s private vigilante army of ex-cons and white supremacists that once stampeded the capitol–where worshipers can flock in great hordes, kneeling before the replica of the great man, heads thrown back, arms lifted toward the heavens, chanting his name in the Trump trance, while the one remaining news outlet in America, Trump Truth, heralds the greatness of the great man throughout the country and the globe.

Meanwhile, newspapers and magazines and books will become nearly extinct.

The entertainment business will feature only white-themed Christian fare where the good guys win and hold court as saccharine music serenades in the background. Colleges and law firms will be reduced to beggars. Most of the addicts, beggars, the poor, and immigrants will be vanquished by various pandemics, leaving just enough of them to do the dirty work and keep the country fed.

The military and secret service and ICE thugs and police will walk the streets and keep us safe. Citizens will distrust almost everybody as spies as they tread warily, while any sign of protest will face live ammunition to quell and kill–a decree put forth by the messiah.

Ahh, welcome to brave new Trump world, America the beautiful, home of the brave.