On the Oranges of Speeches

If you've been hiding under a watermelon lately, you may have missed the Orange Man's latest display of dementia. Yesterday, in discussing the Mueller Report while meeting with Jens Stoltenberg, Secretary General of NATO, our elderberry leader mangled the word "origins," repeatedly saying "oranges." And I quote, "The Mueller Report, I wish, covered the oranges of the investigation." He said it not once, not twice, but at least three times. He did seem to realize that something was wrong, as he offered the word "beginnings" as if to clarify. But no matter how many times he tried to conquer that pesky word "origins," it kept coming out "oranges."

Once I stopped smacking myself on the coconut, I made a fruitful effort to predict the White House take on this covfefe. Will Sarah Huckleberry Sanders be able to spin this into some kind of detente intended to make peace with those "Mexican countries" that have so troubled us at the border? Are they no longer banana republics? Is this a case of "You can squeeze my oranges if I can peel your banana?" (Insert groan here.) I wonder if Tim Apple feels like yesterday's news now? Well, I guess that's neither here nor there. You know, apples and oranges.

I suppose we're getting used to the King Kumquat's gaffes. Late-night comedians don't have to work very hard these days. Earlier this month, while going on a two-hour-plus rant at the CPAC conference, NotMyPresident provided enough juice for a month of comedy sketches. It's so easy. I'm imagining him at Lar-a-Mango, calling out to his wife Melon in the adjoining bedroom: "Darling, darling, is the wind blowing today? I'd like to watch television, darling. Bring me some Hannity. Please, please, with a cherry on top?"

And in yesterday's display of mental derangement, the Confused One misstated his own oranges origins. He claimed, not for the first time, that his father was born in Germany. He wasn't. Fred Trump was born in the Bronx in 1905. Fred Trump's son, the man who stole the office of President of the United States, in part through Birtherism, lies about his own father's place of birth? Isn't it ironic?

But I digress. I do not like making light of dementia. Those of us who have lost a loved one to this disease know the heartbreak of watching that descent into confusion and frustration. But there's a big difference between our loved ones and the Tangerine Tyrant. Notably, our loved ones were not in charge of the nuclear codes.

The USDA database lists the avocado as a vegetable, but according to those who grow them, the avocado is a fruit. Either way, avocado toast is the new PB&J. But here's something to scare the guanabana out of you: if the Clementine-in-Chief shuts down the border with Mexico (as he has threatened to do), we will suffer an avocado shortage within three weeks. Now maybe you don't give a fig about that, but there will be a lot of crab apples threatening to burn their Make America Grape Again hats over this. This could mean war. We'll see how the fruit flies.

And now, orange you glad this post is over?