"Welcome Back, Dear Leader!"
Jensen Huang Saved America at Mar-a-Lago
Editor’s Note: Happy Inauguration Day. It’s going to be a great 4 years - right?
TODAY'S RAMBLINGS
5 Minute Read
Astonishingly, I couldn’t resist, and like many, I found myself curtseying, genuflecting, bowing, and just generally kissing the extremely white, extremely pimply, and extremely flabby fat ass of Dear Leader, at his lair in Mar-a-Lago.
It’s what you do now in his presence, but what was I doing in “The Southern White House” (they all call it that!) over the weekend in the first place? And how did I, of all people, get in to see the most important man on Earth? Maybe the most important man ever?!
On the weekend before today, Inauguration Day?
It was easy, and not even facilitated by my usual helpers.
This time, it turned out my friend and Nvidia apologist Devin Singh, PhD, was accompanying his boss, Nvidia kingpin Jensen Huang for an audience with Dear Leader. All of tech’s demigods wanted to get on Dear Leader’s good side and had made the pilgrimage already; it was now Huang’s turn.
And that’s how I ended up in Mar-a-Lago's frayed, if gilded and tacky, splendor. Shocking, I know, but aware of my observational and documentarian chops in this blog, last week they asked yours truly if I’d jump on Huang’s Gulfstream G500 for the ride from SF to Palm Beach, and capture it all.
“But on paper only,” Singh had told me. “Dear Leader’s staff said absolutely no photos. I guess he’s feeling a bit self-conscious about being even fatter than before. And I love you, Portico, but keep that big fucking mouth of yours closed.”
That wasn’t a problem, as you’ll see.
During cocktail hour on the plane, I passed out briefly after one too many nitrous hits (a surprising service offering from JH’s jet provider of choice), but otherwise, the trip was uneventful. Devin had seen it before and Huang didn’t seem to care: his mind was on the big task ahead.
Because rather than simply currying favor for Nvidia by showering praise and some money on Dear Leader, Jensen Huang was going to take a slightly different tack.
After our ride from the airport in the gasoline Hummer stretch limo sent by Dear Leader’s staff, we were ushered into an anteroom, where we waited. Singh paced the floor - I’ve never seen him quite this nervous - while Huang picked flakes of dust off of his extraordinarily expensive black leather jacket.
I couldn’t take photos, but I did find this online, and he was wearing something similar.
Me? I admired his black t-shirt underneath and chilled. The 40mg tablet George Valiant Walker had given me for the occasion was having its desired effect.
“Just like Cabo Pulmo,” I dreamed when suddenly my haze was shaken by someone who looked a lot like Kellyanne Conway, yet somehow more emaciated and bleached and hideous.
It wasn’t, but she was still a scary vision to behold as she squeaked, “Dear Leader will see you all now.” I almost gasped with excitement. Almost.
Being a weekend, we found the 47th President stooped behind his massive wood veneer desk - done in the Colonial style, of course - in a too-tight white golf shirt that projected a bit too much nipple. His office was what one would expect, although I had not anticipated the musky smell of the room.
He belched and welcomed us in by declaring “Isn’t my Hummer limo the best? I hate not being able to use it now as President. Is there anything classier than a white stretch Hummer limo?” Dear Leader’s hair looked like the deck of an aircraft carrier, albeit one painted blonde, and he weighed 300 pounds, easy.
We all nodded in agreement and sat down. I noted the couches had vinyl covers - to protect them from the heat and humidity of Florida, perhaps? Or maybe the musk?
Luckily I had long pants on, so I didn’t stick too badly. And leaving my mouth behind helped in terms of keeping quiet, as Devin had instructed.
Huang, not one to waste time or worry about furniture, jumped right in.
“Welcome back, Dear Leader! I must first say that you look so very handsome! And I can’t wait to pick that awesome, giant, and superlative brain of yours for guidance on how to best run my complex global business. You will certainly know more than me and my team, and for that, I am thankful you’re in charge again. That Biden wanted to destroy us, but now you’re here and I know everything will be OK.”
I was a bit taken aback by seeing the world’s 9th wealthiest man and one of its smartest grovel in this fashion, but again, it’s how it’s done now. Huang proceeded to make his pitch.
“Your most awesomeness, everyone knows the next 4 years are going to be the best ever. How could they not be, with you in charge?”
“Go on,” Dear Leader croaked. His orange and pockmarked skin was dappled by the late afternoon sunshine that streamed in through the filthy windows.
Huang’s tone now turned quite serious.
“But Dear Leader, there’s just one problem. As a man of science and letters, I know that democracy can’t survive if we don’t operate from a common set of facts. And I have witnessed a complete erosion of trust and a collapse of civility and empathy across our entire nation.”
“I know, isn’t it great? It’s how I won this time!” Dear Leader was beaming.
“But your wonderfulness, it can’t go on. It will ruin us all, and especially your most ardent fans, the great MAGA Nation.”
Dear Leader burst out laughing.
“Those suckers? Fuck ‘em and I couldn’t care less about them. I’ve got mine.”
The brilliant Huang now had his opening; he had played Dear Leader like a piano.
“Agreed, you are far richer than all of us, Dear Leader. But how would you like to have even more?”
With that, Huang gestured to Singh, who handed him a simple USB thumb drive, attached to a keychain. One side of the keychain said ฿ on it while the other was graced by a rather revealing image of a young Ivanka Trump.
“Nice touch,” I thought to myself.
“Dear Leader, you are the king of crypto, so on this memory stick is the address of a digital wallet containing $10 billion in Bitcoin. It is yours, with my deepest gratitude.
“Your Highness, I’m giving you $10 billion of my own money in untraceable funds, and while it’s mostly for you just being you, I do have one small ask.
“Let’s use Nvidia and our AI chips to stop misinformation online. To stop disinformation online. To encourage empathy and national unity online.”
Dear Leader had pissed his pants upon hearing the talk of that much money - he always did - but thankfully, he was wearing his Depend diaper (size XXL), so nobody noticed.
Well, I was a bit close to Dear Leader, so a Diet Coke-tinged odor of urine still wafted over me. I tried to pretend it hadn’t, as it all seemed to be going so well.
Because I could see that Dear Leader was drooling now. I think he believed having ten billion dollars would finally earn him the respect of those Manhattan snobs who had looked down on him his entire life.
Or maybe it was the MDMA Dear Leader was so clearly mainlining.
Whatever it was, our work was done. Huang kissed the Sinatra-like pinkie ring of Dear Leader, told him to enjoy today’s inauguration, and that was it.
As we were escorted back out to the Hummer limousine, I made one last mental note of the torn, yet cheesy, 1980s-era wallpaper that was everywhere at Mar-a-Lago. It had been an unusual experience, to say the least.
As we were leaving, the unmistakable and oh-so-pleasing sound of Dear Leader’s baritone could be heard. Jensen Huang’s money had done it and he was now reliving his finest moments on The Apprentice.
“Bannon, YOU’RE FIRED! Musk, YOU’RE FIRED! Kennedy, YOU’RE FIRED! Gabbard, FIRED! And tell that goof in the hoodie HE IS FIRED too! Bezos? He’s still in, as long as he does with The Post what my new best friend Jensen tells him to.”
Dear Leader didn’t seem to know or care that these people weren’t actually in his employ.
No matter, as Jensen Huang had spent less than ten percent of his wealth yet helped America avert disaster by bribing the President of the United States with $10 billion.
I knew America would be OK when I heard Dear Leader bark out his next command:
“Now, get me that handsome Anderson Cooper on the phone. I will make him my Press Secretary!”
FROM THE UNWASHED MASSES
This is from me, and may I have 10 Seconds of Seriousness?
It is strange how the calendar worked out, because could there be two more different men? The person being sworn in as President today and this gentleman?
Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day and I say with confidence there will never be a national holiday commemorating Dear Leader.
Unless he creates it himself via Executive Order.
Thank you for reading this newsletter.
KLUF
Frankly, what else could it be?