People of America. President Camacho. I was supposed to show up in 2500, but 2026 kept emailing me, and the email was just a picture of a 12-pack of American Dew with a flag on it, so I came early. Brought the cape. Brought the gun. Left the reading glasses, because reading is how the debt got so big.

The soda is twelve dollars. Twelve. I held up fingers at the store and the lady said I did not have enough fingers, which is treason. It is called American Dew. It is Mountain Dew. It is Brawndo if Brawndo lost a bet. Electrolytes. A flag. The word American, so you know it is not Canadian Dew, which we banned for being moist. I bought two cases. I poured one on the rose bushes at the White House. The roses died immediately and with confidence. I drank the other one and my blood did a backflip. Science.

Then the gas. Freedom Fuel. Three dollars and forty-seven cents. I am the 47th president, so the pennies are my middle name. There is an eagle on the sign. I saluted the eagle. The eagle did not salute back, and I have men looking into that. A smart retailer, I announced, and he became smart out of fear. Somebody said the station is owned by a football coach and a money wizard and a guy who already forgot to pay for a million dollars of gas. I said good. A man who does not pay for gas understands the customer. I filled the monster truck. The truck burped. I burped back. Diplomacy.

After that I opened the lawn.

Nitro Circus. That is a circus with nitro in it, which is electrolytes for things that are on fire. Travis flew a dirt bike over my yard. My yard. The South Lawn, which is the driveway of the presidency. Black Rifle brought the coffee. Ram brought the truck. I brought the cape and got it stuck in a rotor, and a staffer said that was not history, and I fired the staffer into a lesson. The bike went up. The country went up. A man beside me said it was a commercial. I told him his marriage was a commercial and the bike had better branding. It landed. We won. Winning is when the bike does not die and the crowd makes the noise of people who cannot afford the soda.

They are building me a ballroom while this happens. Big room. Gold room. Military room, so the chandeliers can join the army. I said donors would pay. The donors said they would think about it. The newspaper said half of six hundred million is still you. I cannot picture six hundred million. I picture a cow. I shot the cow. The cow is the debt. The cow is fine. The architect cried about a fire code. I told him I am the code, and also the fire, and also the guy who unplugs the smoke alarm because it was being negative. I want a pit in the room. I want the pit full of American Dew. If a guest falls in, he comes out president.

A woman at the fence had a sign about the war. Iran. Bombs. Kids. She was using a lot of words that were not on the can. I told her the targets were military, because that was on the paper they taped to my gun, and I told her the plants were thirsty, which did not fix the war and was not supposed to. The war costs billions. The soda costs twelve. The ballroom costs one cow. I am not a math guy. I am a pointing guy. I pointed at the eagle, the bike, and the hole where the East Wing used to be, and the crowd did the scream, and the scream is the budget.

So here is the state of the union, and I will say it slow. The dew has what patriots crave. The fuel is named after my number. The lawn is a ramp. The room is going to have a pit. The debt is a cow and the cow knows what it did. You are going to buy the 12-pack again when they put my face on it. Pants are a suggestion. Electrolytes are the law.

Now water something. Not the roses. The roses have been briefed.

-J.C. Wilder - The Veil Report