The meeting had an impressive roster. The heads of the world’s media and advertising companies sat silently around a massive walnut conference table in a sparsely furnished room on the 89th floor of a featureless midtown tower, awaiting their guest.
The door opened, and Trump shuffled in and sat down at the head of the table.
A throat was cleared and an Australian accent intoned “Donald, we have a problem. Ratings and revenue are down.”
“Impossible.” Huffed Trump, crossing his arms
“This isn’t about polling, this is about ad revenue. And we are down on sales 15% for the year. The Wall and the tariffs and minor scandals just aren’t cutting it. And our economists say unless we get more people watching more commercials, the global economy could collapse,” said a voice with a Chinese accent.
“The people love -” Trump started.
“Listen boy” a thick Texas drawl cut him off. “Your act just ain’t pulling in the numbers. We gunna have to go for plan B, and hope that a nice juicy Impeachment will pull in some viewers. The writers have several gold options for this…”
“Ok, and you still promise me I won’t lose in the Senate?” Trump asked.
There was an uncomfortable silence in the room. An older woman’s voice broke it.
“Depends on how that storyline tests in the Midwest.”
Art from Beeple