A group of your friends sit around the long table, the remnants of a luscious pot-luck still clinging to the tablecloth. But now the game has been taken out, the wine bottles rescued, and the rules read to the assembled. Now play begins. The treasure in the box, a thick pile of cards, is placed on the table, and someone takes a card from the middle and flips it up for all to read.
“Impeachment“. The card is white on black, and, unlike most, it has pink stripes. This one’s important.
You stare down at your pad of paper, gnawing on your lip, then the eraser on your pencil. That queer rubbery taste distracts you. The adrenaline courses through your body as you consider your innate cleverness coming to the fore, but how to give it your personal stamp? Duplicate another’s answer and you both lose your points. The timer clicks, faster and faster, and finally you scrawl something down. The timer stops just as you finish.
“OK, everyone, how will Trump spin this to his base?”
The answers come around the table, with two canceling out at the vote of the assembled: “Trump says Impeachment? No, impatience – after four years, the economy hasn’t recovered yet – Obama always lied about the economy.”Yours is not one of those, and in fact draws some laughter:
“Impeachment? Oh, that’s the new peaches and cream dessert that great New York City restaurant invented just for me!”
And the important phase of each round: the best answer. The assembled vote on the best answer, and your breath catches in your throat:
Will you be the Trumpmeister? Can you lie like the master?
Ah, warm showers can be so nice. So many ideas come to me in the shower. Perhaps I should send this idea off to Milton-Bradley. I have no idea if this is good enough to count as a claim to this idea… actually, CAH would be more to hip to it.
