History of Sorts

In the grand tradition of socialist realism, let us now turn our gaze to the glorious saga of Comrade Trump, the selfless servant of the people, the tireless defender of the worker, and the undisputed leader of the great proletariat revolution—of Mar-a-Lago.

Who among us has not been moved by the tales of Comrade Trump’s boundless generosity? A billionaire who bravely ascended from the ranks of the oppressed bourgeoisie, he cast aside the shackles of inherited wealth and tax loopholes to fight for the common man, namely himself. While others toiled under the tyranny of hard work and ethical business practices, Comrade Trump harnessed the power of bankruptcy laws, unpaid labor, and creative accounting to emerge as the people’s champion. Such ingenuity! Such proletarian spirit!

Even in politics, Comrade Trump proved his undying devotion to the collective. Was it not he who fearlessly declared war against the corrupt elites while appointing only the best and brightest from Goldman Sachs and the private jet class? Did he not wage a valiant struggle against foreign interference while openly requesting it on national television? Such strategic genius boggles the mind—an intellect so vast, even his own advisors struggled to comprehend it, often leaving their posts in admiration, or perhaps indictment.

Comrade Trump’s economic policies were nothing short of revolutionary. While the naïve masses cried out for living wages, fair taxation, and universal healthcare, he wisely guided them toward the true path of prosperity: tax cuts for the wealthy and tariffs on imported necessities. His bold initiative to redefine poverty—by ignoring it—remains a testament to his commitment to alternative facts, a sacred doctrine of the modern proletarian movement.

But what of his foreign policy, you ask? Comrade Trump, in his infinite wisdom, recognized that diplomacy is best conducted with strongmen and oligarchs, those steadfast allies of the working class. He embraced his comrades-in-autocracy with the warmest of words while giving the cold shoulder to so-called allies who still foolishly believed in democracy. He reminded us all that true strength lies not in cooperation, but in sheer unpredictability—like a bear in a china shop, but with nuclear codes.

And let us not forget his cultural contributions! Never before has a leader inspired such devotion, such fervent loyalty. His followers, clad in their sacred red hats, marched in glorious unity, chanting his name with an enthusiasm that would make even the most seasoned cult leaders blush. Through his profound command of social media, he elevated the Twitter rant to an art form, ensuring that history would remember him, one ALL-CAPS tweet at a time.

Indeed, Comrade Trump’s reign was a golden age of governance, where accountability was but a relic of the past and personal responsibility applied only to the weak. His departure from office was, of course, an unfortunate misunderstanding, the result of what historians will surely call The Great Electoral Hoax—perpetrated by the deep state, the fake news media, and the diabolical forces of basic math.

But fear not, comrades! Though Comrade Trump may no longer sit upon his gilded throne, his spirit lives on. As long as there are tax havens to exploit, nepotism to uphold, and fundamental democratic institutions to undermine, the legacy of Comrade Trump shall endure, shining brightly, like a golden escalator descending into the depths of history.

Long live Comrade Trump, the eternal champion of the people—by which, of course, we mean himself.