What a lucky man Mike Johnson was! Through no merit of his own, but some wonderful act of Providence, he got to sit in one of two Big Chairs behind the president in a nice room full of wood paneling while the president delivered the State of the Union address!The State of the Union was a special Trump rally held, in accordance with tradition, on the floor of the House of Representatives. Being there was a real treat for Mike. The president was chief executive. This meant that he was in charge of the government and got to determine important things, like whether laws were constitutional (despite what nine robed traitors, “an embarrassment to their families,” had to say) and what the country’s budget was (impossible to imagine the wise Founders delegating that sort of thing to 435 individuals). Mr. Trump got to put his name and face on buildings and coins and soon, if the country was lucky, would be worshipped as a household deity. It would have reminded Mike of Julius Caesar, if he ever allowed himself to think about the Roman Empire. (Generally, he tried not to: The people involved in its Senate had not worn pants, and whenever he thought about people who were not wearing pants, he was required to notify his son via an app.)What a wonderful place to sit, in this large chair, behind some kind of big desk. (He wondered what it was used for. Ceremonies, perhaps! To honor the president!) No, not sit—mostly stand and applaud because the speech was so wonderful. He loved living in a country where he had the freedom to decide for himself how to respond to the president’s words—whether to stand and clap or merely sit and nod, with a little, delighted smile, as though admiring a sandwich that had exactly the right amount of mayonnaise. He had heard that Cabinet meetings were like this too, but with a little more sitting. Someday, perhaps, he could aspire to such real power, rather than whatever it was he did—codify the president’s wishes? A formality, to be sure.The speech was very informative, except for all of the blood.So many wonderful things were happening in America, it turned out! You might not know if you read the newspaper, or turned on the television, or peered into the internet, or went to the grocery store, or had any errands that might take you to the city of Minneapolis, but America was back, it turned out, in a big way! This was a golden age, no matter what the polls said or your wallet said or the armed forces who now patrolled your streets with or without masks said.The president had many guests at this State of the Union, and he lavishly retold the worst things that had ever happened to some of them: their daughter, “dead in a bathtub, bleeding profusely, after being stabbed 25 times. Violently and viciously.” Now their daughter, whose subway attacker “viciously slashed a knife through her neck and body. No one will ever forget the expression of terror.” Even the survivors were awash in gore—“her son, laying helplessly in bed, blood all over.” The heroic helicopter pilot, “gushing blood, which was flowing back down the aisle.” Not just flowing, “pouring down the aisle!”It was amazing how all of the blood showed that the president was right—about calling for mass deportations, about dispatching troops abroad, about how much he deserved a Nobel Prize. (If other people had bled and died on the sidewalks or in the streets or even in the detention facilities in this country, the president did not stop to mention them.)Donald Trump. Bless that man! Four more years!, one voice shouted, in rapture. Other voices shouted other things. That these were lies, maybe. Some of the people in the chamber got up and left. Imagine leaving such a speech! Democrats really were crazy, as the president said they were. They would certainly ruin the country if ever allowed to win another election (something they only ever did by cheating).But it was not only a night for hate. It was a night for love. The president loved tariffs very much. Whatever that word meant—it seemed to sound beautiful to the president, although the room did not respond with the same ardor that it had for the other things—Mike knew it was his job not to object. It was not his job to do anything! “Congressional action will not be necessary. It’s already time-tested and approved.” That settled that! Mike stood and clapped.What a blessing, when a man’s only business was to lean forward and listen, to determine whether this was a moment to stand and clap or sit and nod. Or perhaps to laugh, as when the president joked about blowing fishing boats out of the water! A moment to chuckle, certainly.What a gift, to be so close to greatness! Mike Johnson had his little beige tie and his spectacles and his flag pin and his salt-and-pepper hair, neatly in place, and his pink Kewpie-doll cheeks, and he was just thrilled to be visited by the president. What an honor for a humble fellow like himself! If only he could remember what it was he did for a living.