As the first debate opens Donald Trump reaches into his pocket and pulls out a shiny lump. He places it on the lectern. There is silence. Before a single question is uttered he has taken full control of the room. It is a golden turd. His own.
No rebuttal is possible.
For both the media and his opponent are in awe.
“Did you shit that golden turd?” they asked.
“Indeed I did,” he replied. “I am part magic bird.”
This was the most amazing thing America ever heard. Trump is a bird? A magic bird? Who shits golden turds? Suddenly, regardless of his brutish manner, they were inured.
“You may keep it,” he said. His opponent blushed. For if you can’t trust a rich man, who can you trust?