In a move that has sent shockwaves through the plankton community and delighted groundskeepers nationwide, President Donald Trump has declared a state of emergency for the Washington Reflecting Pool. Yes, the hallowed mirror of American democracy, the watery selfie station for every tourist from Omaha to Osaka, has been deemed 'disgusting, frankly, the worst algae I've ever seen' by the Commander in Tweet.
The order, scrawled on a napkin from the Trump International Hotel (where the gin is, one assumes, appropriately presidential), demands an immediate and 'total beautiful fix' of the pool. 'We're going to have the clearest water, it'll be amazing,' sources report the President as saying, presumably while gesturing at the Capitol dome like a man trying to hail a cab in a blizzard.
Let us pause to appreciate the symbolism. The Washington Monument, a stone phallus of cold war ambition, now casts its reflection in a broth of green slime that wouldn't be out of place in a science experiment gone horribly wrong. The Reflecting Pool, designed to mirror the nation's best self, now shows us a face covered in pond scum. Perhaps it's a metaphor. Perhaps it's just poor maintenance. But in Trump's America, even the algae must be made great again.
The cost of this sudden aquatic overhaul remains undisclosed, but let's be honest: it'll be billed to the taxpayer, with a premium for that signature Trump expediency. The contractors have been selected, one assumes, from a list of golf buddies and reality show acquaintances. The Pool will be drained, scrubbed, refilled, and probably renamed the 'Trump Clear & Clean Reflective Experience'. There will be a ribbon cutting. There will be a photo op. There will be a golden comb-over reflected in its pristine waters.
Meanwhile, the actual crises of the nation continue unabated. Health care? Climate change? The crumbling infrastructure of Flint? Never mind. The Pool is the priority. Because nothing says 'I'm a serious leader' like obsessing over a puddle while the world burns. But hey, maybe a clean pool will inspire a new era of bipartisanship. Or at least better selfies.
I, for one, welcome our new algaefree overlords. Let the Pool be clear, even if the policy remains murky. Let the water sparkle, even if the economy does not. And let us remember: in the game of presidential distraction, the one who controls the algae controls the narrative.
This has been Barnaby 'Biff' Thistlethwaite, filing from the shallow end of political discourse. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a gin and tonic. The ice is from a glacier. The lime is organic. The irony is vintage.