The 12 Days of Trumpivus, Or “How Many People Will Trump Kill Between Now and Inauguration?”

Trumpivus: noun, religious celebration consisting of the period between Trump’s latest impeachment and whenever he leaves the White House. Varies in duration depending on when he actually leaves, which is a complex calculation based on whether he sees his hair’s shadow, the size of his raccoon eyes, and the price of bitcoin. See also “tweeting of grievances.”

On the first day of Trumpivus, the Donald killed for me, one Charlottesville counter-protester.

On the second day of Trumpivus, the Donald killed for me, two immigrants facedown in the Rio Grande. (Refrain, or whatever it’s called when you repeat the first day.)

On the third day of Trumpivus, the Donald killed for me, Letlow, Williams, and Herman Cain.

On the fourth day of Trumpivus, the Donald killed for me, four soldiers in Tongo Tongo.

On the fifth day of Trumpivus, the Donald killed for me, five people in the Capitol.

On the sixth day of Trumpivus, the Donald killed for me, dozens of immigrants sickened in detention.

On the seventh day of Trumpivus, the Donald killed for me, many innocent black lives.

On the eighth day of Trumpivus, the Donald killed for me, four hundred-thousand Covid sufferers.

Trumpivus, as some have explained includes the tweeting of grievances, but there’s so much more to it than that. It all begins with the beginning.

Trumpesis, the creation: In the beginning there was only darkness, and then the Little One, Goodly Is He, blessed us with his presence. He taught us ignorance from stupidity, and he taught us that under the perfect circumstances — a huge inheritance and no education — anyone can possess both. And there were Trumpists and Trumpettes. Anyone can be a Trumpist, you just need a gun. But Trumpettes are special. They are the body-senate, the evil spawn of the Little One himself, which he has infected like The Virus and cast a spell over to do his bidding. They were already craven of mind and soul so they were ripe for the picking, but who among us is immune to the Devoid, Satan incarnate when he comes offering votes uncounted? And the Trumpists were then infected en masse and sent to the shrine. And every year on January 6th, the believers march to the shrine to reenact the hangings and killings, and all was goodly and bigly.

And Trumpivus is better than all other religions’ holidays — but of course — because it is celebrated in two different ways. Some celebrate by jumping up and down, day and night, for 6 straight days. (Did we say it was 6 or 12? That’s OK, there is no order or organization in the religion of Trumpity, only the latest thing on your mind.) And others celebrate by torching and blowing up stuff. It’s quite beautiful, the essence of diversity… we would expect no less.

And if all the reality TV stars are in alignment, on some years Trumpivus is culminated by Trump actually killing someone on Fifth Avenue followed by the ceremonial polling of Retrumplican members of Congress to see if they believe it was a fact or not. (On all other years, Congress simply debates whether inciting a riot that causes the death of Capitol policemen is actually any different than killing someone on Fifth Avenue. But their brains are small so have pity on them; they don’t understand it’s identical.) But what Congress says doesn’t matter a hoot, until the Triumvirate of the Small-Handed Vulgarian(s) decides. As tradition dictates, William Barr, Mitch McConnell, and Rudy Giugliani, hand their opinion to the High Priestess of Truthiness and Fact, Kellyanne Conway, who declares whether it happened or not.

Finally, getting back to our question, how many will he kill? Go to your nearest Trump casino and place a bet. We’ve devised a new scale the Trumpity Die-ometer. In the same way that doctors approximate tumor sizes with beans, we’ll use groups. Will he kill a mere basketball team (12), baseball team (26), US football (53), Congress (535), village (1000), town (10000), city (100000), or maybe a whole country? Place your bets.

Of course true Trumpists see the flaw in that. Did you spot it, too? I left out ‘whole species.’ Do you still not get it through your thick skull that there is “no bottom?” If there’s a way to wipe out the species, he is The One.

So have yourselves a very merry Trumpivus, happy inauguration, and remember, Trump isn’t done killing yet!