It’s well known that President Trump believes that one has only finite energy, and that undue exertion should be avoided at all costs. Last spring, at the G7 conference in Tiramisu, Sicily, he asserted American pre-eminence by riding around in grand style in a gold-plated golf cart while his fellow political leaders trudged and waddled. Now one hears that, in the same spirit, Mr. Trump has introduced new rules for the very rich at his golf courses. Where, during the Obama era, players had to get out of their carts and strike the ball themselves, they now have celebrity caddies do it for them. Tiger Woods is on course (did you see what I did there?) to earn more in 2018 as a celebrity caddy than he did on the PGA tour.
Lot of wonderful ideas have been come up with on golf courses, and we now learn that one of the best and brightest ideas of 2018, one that has put 200,000 Americans to work at sub-subsistence wages, was born at Mr. Trump’s golf club in Sterling, Virginia. I speak, of course, of the idea for Obee City, America’s most successful new fast food chain since Papusatown.
As the vast majority of Obees are in red states, in suburban or even rural areas, there may not be one near you. The restaurant is geared to Trump voters and others sick and tired of being told by so-called experts (in this case, nutritionists with extensive training in human physiology) what to do, think, and, especially, eat, and offers a menu defiantly high in sugar, salt, and saturated fat. On being seated, the Obee customer is immediately presented with a platter of jelly doughnuts and a big bowl of molten lard into which to dip them. The most popular item on the menu as of the spring of 2018 was the Quadroopleburger — which actually contains five beef and beef by-product patties, and comes in a little cardboard clamshell container on which the chain’s freckled young icon, a dead ringer for Bob’s Big Boy, adorably proclaims, “Oops, I guess I don’t count so good, but tough titty!” Many folk's idea of a great meal is a side of Couch Potatoes — french fries in a crust of crushed M&Ms — with a Q-Burger, or two, or three.
The restaurants in open-carry states provide gun racks in which what Mr. Trump has called “2nd Amendment people” can stow their weapons while dining, though they are welcome to take their AR-15s with them to their tables. Should a jihadist or George Soros enthusiast be so foolish as to come into an Obee shooting or spouting offensive rhetoric, he or she may be assured that a great, great many bullets will be flying back in his or her direction pronto!
While dining, one may count on hearing the lively, uplifting, quintessentially American music of Kid Rock, Ted Nugent, Three Doors Down, and Reba McIntyre on the dining room sound system, and may watch New England Patriots’ games, some of Mr. Trump’s speeches, Sean Hannity, or Infowars, on any of a number of TV monitors. Analysts have shown that sales of Obee’s Beautiful Chocolate Cake spike when the TVs are showing the interview in which he talks about eating dessert with the president of China while bombing Syria.
Pass them, Couch Potatoes, Junior!
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