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But Paul [Manafort, the former Trump Campaign Manager] didn't know how
to play the Trumpet--Maureen Dowd, "Open Letter From Mr. Trump," New
York Times, August 21, 2016, 11
   Donald J. Trump supporters sell T-shirts emblazoned with' Trump
[italics mine] That Bitch!' One reporter noted that mentions of Mrs.
Clinton at a Trump rally in Greensboro, N.C., were greeted with gleeful
shouts of the word ['bitch']--Andi Zeisler, "The Bitch America Needs,"
New York Times, September 11, 2016, 2

Professor Sondra Lear decided that she could not--not for one more microsecond--abide Donald Trump's diatribes. "I wish I could do something science fictional to silence Trump," she said aloud. She was distraught to the extent that she continued to talk to herself. "It's a shame that I know all of this science fiction theory and I can't reify my knowledge. I wish I could send Trump to the Phantom Zone. I wish I could give him a one-way ticket for a voyage to Arcturus--or to any planet located in a galaxy far, far away. Fantasy princesses have fairy godmothers. Oy, just because a feminist theorist really doesn't fit the usual Jewish American princess qualifications, why can't I have a fairy godmother? I wish I had a fairy godmother."

"Your wish is my command," said a patrician. Sondra's office at the State University of New York at Greenwich Village was suddenly engulfed in smoke. When the smoke cleared, Sondra saw a white-haired lady wearing tailored clothes and pearls.

"Mrs. Bush?" Sondra said incredulously. "Why have you materialized in my office?"

"I am your fairy godmother."

"My fairy godmother? I am a fervent liberal Democrat. How can the quintessential Republican matriarch by my fairy godmother?"

""We're now on the same side, dear. My antipathy for Trump knows no bounds. The nerve of him calling my Jeb low energy. How dare he thwart my Jeb's presidential ambitions? You are someone who is comfortable having a fairy godmother. So I've come to tell you how to shut Trump's mouth."

"I'm listening."

"The answer is General Semantics."

"Even though I am a literary critic, I don't see how words can silence Trump."

"People routinely play with the name "Trump." They mention "trump cards" and being "trumped." But nobody applies "trump" to animals. Donald Trump is for the birds; trumpeter swans can counter him."

"Trumpeter swans? I'm still listening."

"Yes, trumpeter swans. Hitchcock knew that birds have power. As a bona fide fairy godmother, I fraternize with fantastic creatures--such as fire breathing trumpeter swans. You can summon one and ride her to a destination of your choice."

"Like a cross between Uber and dragon riders?"


"Just mount the leader of the fire-breathing trumpeter swan flock. The flock will surround Trump rallies and trumpet as loudly as they can. Exceedingly loud trumpeter swans will drown out Trump at his loudest and most offensive. When riding astride a fire-breathing trumpeter swan, you can look Trump straight in the eye and say 'you're fired'."

"I love illocutionary force. I'm in."

Mrs. Bush told Sondra that a fire-breathing trumpeter swan flock was roosting in the university parking lot. The flock leader waddled toward Sondra, squawked a greeting, lowered her neck, and extended her wing. Sondra climbed up on the wing and clung to the swan's neck. Since sitting on the back of a giant swan is quite comfortable, Sondra remained calm. Ready for takeoff, she recalled that Trump was scheduled to speak in Greensboro, N.C., later that evening. "Fly to Greensboro," she said. The leader ascended as the flock lined up in formation behind her. Soon Sondra and her avian colleagues were hovering over the building which contained the Trump rally. Sondra and the leader landed and entered.

"Everyone pile up your 'Make America Great Again' signs," ordered Sondra. Even the burliest racists complied. The giant fire-breathing trumpeter swan opened her beak. She directed a flame at the piled signs and, hence, burned them to smithereens. Sondra and the trumpeter swan got Trump's attention.

"This woman must be a Hillary supporter. Look at this. Now I have to deal with a crooked, lyin', fire-breathing swan. Look at how huge it is. This is a huge rapist swan. A fire-breathing swan is an immigrant from a fairy tale. I am going to build a wall," proclaimed Trump.

"You can build all the walls you want," retorted Sondra. "There are more such swans where this one came from. They can fly over your wall."

"I'll have the swans shot and turned into barbecue ingredients. Great marketing potential: Trump Trumpeter Swan Steaks."

The flock leader aimed a flame at Trump's red baseball cap. Just as his hair was about to catch fire, a secret service agent threw a bucket of water on his head. Regaining his composure, Trump continued to speak. "The Second Amendment advocates can maybe do something about these swans," he said.

The entire flock squawked and drowned Trump out. They set fire to all the "Make America Great Again" hats. Seeing that he could not prevail against a fire-breathing trumpeter swan flock's sound barrage, Trump stood in dumbfounded silence.

Barbara Bush materialized in the auditorium.

"You're fired," she trumpeted to Trump in tandem with Sondra.

Marleen S. Barr

Marleen S. Barr is a New York-based science fiction critic, novelist, and adjunct professor in communication and media studies at Fordham University. She is notable for her significant contributions to science fiction studies, for which she won a Pilgrim Award from the Science Fiction Research Association in 1997, and has done foundational work in the field of feminist science fiction criticism.

This is part one of a three-part triptych.
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Author:Barr, Marleen S.
Publication:ETC.: A Review of General Semantics
Article Type:Short story
Date:Jan 1, 2016

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