Announcing New Publication – 2028: Trump at Guantanamo


I am announcing that my new novel 2028: Trump at Guantanamo by NL Brisson has just gone live on Amazon.

This is a Trumpian fantasy which takes place in the future. It imagines what might have happened if Trump had won in 2020, if he wins again in 2024. It is fiction and it is meant to be enjoyed. Although Trump’s policies are reflected in the content, the actual policies the story describes are extrapolations. You might enjoy meeting Cyborg Trump with a half metallic head prosthesis. He selected two wigs to wear. He wears them under a MAGA hat. See which wigs he chose. Come join Melania, Trump, Barron, Ivanka, and Jared at Guantánamo. It is a fun revenge fantasy. 

Calling All Oil and Gas Men and Women

From a Google Image Search -WFAA

Calling all oil and gas men and women. You have the stuff we need. You know energy science. You are risk-takers. You like big bucks. I don’t understand why you are throwing in your lot with a dying industry. These days present a golden opportunity. You could be the new energy barons.

Sad that our best and brightest energy people have been enlisted into the energy wars by our oily overlords. These gas bags have you fighting to preserve energy’s past, rather than offering grants that would allow you to earn your own fortunes (and theirs) while creating new energies. You may be well paid, but these folks you work for are billionaires. 

Not only do you oil and gas people know energy, you know money. You understand supply and demand, you understand how to be where the money is. But those petrodollars have been more unstable recently. Of course, fortunes may rise when this global pandemic ebbs, but the climate change you deny will persist. Eventually we will have to drastically lessen fossil fuel use. You could be part of the solution, not part of the problem. You could be heroes, not objects of our ambivalence (or worse). You could be in the forefront, rather than being the rear guard.

This week Texas froze, not for the first time, but this time the cold snap has outlasted their power grid. There sits all that oil and gas, all those refineries. It’s the age-old dilemma of those stranded at sea with no fresh water. Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink. Except, it’s fuel, fuel everywhere but not a good delivery system. 

And then you have that Republican mayor you elected who said that survival is up to each individual and only the strong will survive. We do not live in a socialist country he tells us. Your government will not save you. 

And there we have it, we can’t drink oil and gas, we can no longer get water without electricity. We have put everything in pipes. If those pipes don’t have pumps we have nothing. All the old springs where people used to take containers to fill with water have been capped because it made road maintenance harder, or because it became valuable to sell water. Big money comes now from selling fresh water encased in throwaway plastic.

So this mayor thinks nothing of people, people who are his people, who are freezing in their homes for days on end, piling on clothing and blankets. He doesn’t care that their refrigerators will no longer keep their food safe to eat. He doesn’t mind one bit that most new stoves, even gas stoves, need electricity to function. He’s not worried that stores and restaurants have had to close so takeout may not be an option. Two people in his city die trying to use their car for heat, that’s their problem. Where are the FEMA trucks with the water? Where are the heated shelters? This is America without any safety nets. This is small government and every man/woman for him/herself. Of course some of these ‘people’ are children.

We’re not going to beg; but clearly we need all the engineers, all the physicists, all the laboratory scientists, all the builders and designers and planners, all those who understand how to run manufacturing businesses, all the inventors, and patent lawyers. You can either kill the planet or you can save it. If you help create the switch-over to new energies that saves the planet you could be the new tycoons. If you were even to find a way to allow global use of fossil fuels without climate repercussions you would probably end up famous. Creating better batteries would put gold in your pockets. Perhaps we are begging, but we’re not expecting you to work for free.

Subscribe to the NYT. It’s not perfect but it will keep you informed, and you will keep an important paper alive.

Trump at Guantanamo-Preview Chapter 3

Google Image Search-Underground Cuba Travel Guide

Disclaimer: Trump at Guantanamo is a Trumpian Fantasy. It is fiction. Although Trump is the main character, this is a hypothetical Trump, based on the real one, but since the story takes us to the year 2028, and since the author cannot actually know the future, this is just a projection of a man who already keeps reinventing himself. Perhaps a warning, perhaps simply because she can’t help herself, this story insists on being told.

Chapter 3

Day 2, Guantanamo

Melania, determined to keep up appearances, got fully groomed and dressed before she wandered downstairs but she was still the first one up. There were all their portable possession piled up in the foyer. She separated her things into a pile near the pedestal table. She picked out a few outfits to wear in the coming days, hung them on the pegs off to the side of the foyer until she was ready to go upstairs again and made her way to the kitchen. It was looking like the kitchen would be a popular room for gathering, although they were not normally a gathering type of family. They usually operated more like billiard balls on a pool table, bouncing off one another and coming to rest in their separate corners. 

Barron was the next person to arrive in the foyer. (person, man, woman, camera, tv) He found his stuff and moved it to the blank wall in the foyer. He decided to come back later to see if there was anything he needed. Then Barron continued on to the kitchen. 

Melania was trying to find the proper kitchen appliance for making coffee. Were there any of those pod things? Was there any ground coffee? Where were the sugar substitutes? Was she humming, Barron wondered, as he entered the kitchen? Well, that was new. Was his mom a secret housewife? But Melania kept getting distracted by other discoveries as she worked on getting a coffee service together. She was distracted by taking stock of the pantry, by looking out the window over the sink, by a flock of parrots in a stand of palm trees, by the pastries someone had left on the counter in the pantry. 

Fortunately, Ivanka wandered in and took charge of the coffee endeavors. Ivanka had more recent experience in kitchen tasks, although not much as the kitchen staff usually took care of such matters. Her children were younger than Barron though, so sometimes Ivanka had done kitchen duty. 

Barron placed the pastries on the island, and set about finding coffee mugs, filling a creamer he found, and setting out the sugar cubes and fake sugar packets. He found some paper plates and added them, and he turned some paper towels into napkins. Looking over the pastries he picked a glazed apple fritter and started to devour it. This family, except his father, was not a pastry family. His mother and Ivanka both rarely ate anything worth mentioning. Donald was not supposed to indulge in sugar but to stop him they would have to hide all traces of the pastries before he joined them. Barron could tell that everyone would treat themselves for this one strange morning.

Donald came downstairs bellowing. “Where the fuck are we? Where is everyone? No one came to wake me up. There is no radio, no TV. I’m the United States President. Where’s my body man?”

They could tell when Trump arrived in the foyer because he was quiet for a few seconds. Then came the explosion, “What is all this crap? Someone clean up this mess?” 

No one stopped eating and the coffee was now ready so mugs were being filled, although no was willing to be the first one to taste the coffee. Trump found the kitchen by smell and started ranting some more. “Melania, why didn’t you wake me? You need to clean up that mess near the front door.” 

“Donald, sit down,” soothed Melania, “you can have a pastry this morning. Here’s your coffee.” The coffee had apparently passed the taste test.

“I don’t want coffee. Are there any Cokes in the refrigerator? Someone prepare one for me”, he looked around at who was present and reluctantly added a “please”. He was handed his Coke in a glass, no ice.

Jared, just entering the kitchen thought, ‘oh, oh, this patient version of Melania will not last. She does not like taking orders and she doesn’t like domestic labor.’ He wasn’t even sure what Melania did all day. He took a seat at the counter by an unclaimed mug and Ivanka filled it with coffee. Jared hid his shock and offered up a thank you instead of a cynical remark. ‘What was happening to this family? Maybe isolation was going to bring them closer together. Of course, it was only day two,’ Jared thought as he reached for a pastry.

“What should we do today?” Ivanka asked. “I want to go for a walk, and then maybe a swim. Anybody up for that?” Ivanka had found a note in her pile of possessions that said she would see her children soon. She was happy about not having to keep fighting with their ghost hosts about this. 

“I think I might take one of those golf carts and go play a few holes,” Jared said, “Dad, do you want to go?”

“Someone has to help me get dressed,” Trump grumped.

Barron surprised himself and everyone else once again by volunteering to help Trump sort himself out. “Then Dad and I will both go golfing with you, Jared,” Barron added.

Everyone cleaned up the kitchen, except Donald, of course, and retreated to their rooms to dress for their planned activities. Melania had to make another deep dive into her belongings in the foyer to pull out exercise clothes and a swimsuit. She also grabbed the outfits she had hung on the hooks and this time she took the elevator. Barron was already wearing casual clothes and, in fact, had thought to put his bathing suit on as his shorts. He trailed behind Donald into the foyer, helped him pick out appropriate clothing and by then the elevator was back on the first floor waiting for them. Fortunately, Donald did not need help grooming or shaving or even dressing. He simply did not know how to pick out an outfit to wear and he would sit down and never bother to get dressed at all if left alone. So, Barron ended up being sort of a cheerleader handing wardrobe items to his dad one at a time.

Barron and Donald picked up their golf bags from the foyer on their way out. The ladies were just leaving also and Jared was already sitting in a golf cart. Barron and his dad climbed aboard another golf cart and the guys left for the course. Melania and Ivanka set off on a brisk walk but soon slowed down. It was really hot. If they wanted to walk fast they would have to get up earlier. They didn’t stay on the perimeter road. They decided to walk the streets around the barracks and other buildings. The base was deserted except for them, and a bit eerie. It was sort of post-apocalyptic. 

In a strange way the privacy was a welcome relief from the usual chaos that surrounded Donald Trump. Eventually they reached the pool by a circuitous route. There it sat with all the pool furniture around it like survivals of a nuclear disaster. They swam and stretched out and then repeated that pattern, hardly in a hurry since they had nothing else to do. Neither of them even had a book or a magazine. They did not intend to do any cleaning, their were no electronics, no movies to watch, no music to listen to. They might have been inclined to decorate the houses they were living in but there were no shops, no online buying, no Home Shopping Network. 

“Next time we do this we’ll have to remember to bring water with us, said Melania.

“Let’s look in that pool house on the other side of the pool,” Ivanka said.

Sure enough, there was a mini fridge in the pool house with water and Coke and even some lovely green grapes. They took their loot back to their chaises and enjoyed the cool water in the pool for a while longer.

When Barron, Jared, and Donald arrived at the small golf course and started to play, they had a hard time adjusting their strokes to the new measurements; their balls traveled too far at first. After a while their perceptions obeyed the new dimensions. It was very hot though. They found a little air-conditioned club house at the fourth hole and it had a manly bar with all kinds of liquid refreshments and card tables equipped with cards, poker chips and dice. Trump grew expansive and tried to guess what was happening outside these walls in the Confederated States of America. 

“Why did they have to rescue us,” he asked, “What was the danger? Everything seemed fine until they landed at Mar-a-Lago. Sometimes I wish I didn’t shut down Twitter. No one gave me any intelligence reports about unrest or resistance. We had our people everywhere. We would have known immediately if something was going on. This is all very strange,” Trump talked it all through as he paced the small club house.”

Then Trump lapsed from this super lucid state into exhaustion. “We had better head over to the pool and meet the ladies,” said Jared. “The women are probably lobsters by now.”

“Those two can take care of themselves,” said Barron. “Com’on Dad, let’s get in those golf carts.” Barron helped him along by putting an arm across his father’s shoulders.

The pool led back to their patio where the unlocked patio doors opened into the cool interior of the house. They left the golf carts parked on the patio. 

“We all need showers,” Melania said, “I’ll be in the kitchen after I clean up.” So, they all kept moving past the very beige, beckoning furniture and went to their bedrooms. Barron followed his dad so he could put out some fresh clothing for him. His father was oddly compliant.

When they got to Trump’s bedroom Trump brightened up. “Look,” he said, “there’s a TV in here now. Where did that come from?” 

Jared stuck his head in the room to see how his father-in-law was doing. When he saw the TV, he got a few goose bumps and the fine hairs on his arm rose. They were not alone he reasoned. Someone knew exactly what they were doing and  the things that appeared in the house would only arrive when no one could see how they got there. 

The whole thing felt a lot more like prison than it did like protection. Jared had spent lots of time in Iran which made him very aware of what a surveillance state was like. Hadn’t Trump set up a surveillance state in what used to be America? Of course, Jared, Trump’s right-hand man had helped him do it. Keeping track of how many white children were being born. Making sure that any minority children were spirited away with no records kept and each of the moms were imprisoned or sent into white families to serve as maids or nannies.

Jared did not want to think about some of the policies he had helped Trump implement. If there was a rebellion, and he had heard rumors that there was before they were hustled away from Mar a Lago, it’s possible the family would remain in this expensive ‘prison’ forever. Who knew where they were? Did they still have allies? Hell, he didn’t even know where they were. Would the Saudi King help them now? How about Netanyahu? How about Trump’s shady pals?

Trump had put a comfortable armchair in front the TV and he was happily watching the very sparse offerings, which seemed to be one news channel and one movie channel. Trump said, “tell Melania I’ll eat up here.” 

“I’ll tell her,” promised Jared, but he hoped Barron was still in the mood to play good son, because he was pretty sure the duty would fall to him.

When Barron left Trump in front of the TV, arrived in the kitchen and told Melania about Trump’s expectations, he was given his mom’s evil eye.

“I think I’ll go up and have a talk with your father,” Melania said carefully controlling her emotions. Donald did not respond well to anger. You had to use psychology. Melania had tons of practice.

After a while Trump appeared in the kitchen cleaned and casually dressed followed by a grim Melania. It turns out that a TV had been placed in the kitchen also so the promise of both food and news had done the trick. In fact, there were TV’s everywhere now.

Outwardly peace reigned once again in the Trump family, but inwardly several family members had lost their peace of mind.

Trump at Guantanamo-Preview Chapter 2

From a Google Image Search – FBI

Disclaimer: Trump at Guantanamo is a Trumpian Fantasy. It is fiction. Although Trump is the main character, this is a hypothetical Trump, based on the real one, but since the story takes us to the year 2028, and since the author cannot actually know the future, this is just a projection of a man who already keeps reinventing himself. Perhaps a warning, perhaps simply because she can’t help herself, this story insists on being told.

Chapter 2

The Bunker

The Trumps were not actually alone on this tropical island. Guantanamo was a naval base, but this one compound had been appropriated to the army. The President and crew were being monitored from a bunker inside one of the barracks that had once been occupied by enlisted soldiers. It was a big compound but there were not many barracks as the area had been mainly designed for officers. But officers needed underlings so there were several now empty barracks on the property. The bunker was inside a barracks building and did not stand out. Usually only one or two men pulled short duty assignments in the bunker.

There were computers but the building was shielded to prevent the Trumps from using phones or computers by connecting with the post wi-fi. The Trumps had their phones and Jared had an Apple watch but no computers had been packed. For the most part, the observation team (guards) listened to the families more than they watched. They really had no desire to see the sights they might see.

There were four men on the team so they could spell each other: John Bingham, Dwight Eisenstadt, Michael “Rocky” White, Nelson Court – code names – Swimmer, Old Man, The Rock and Rockefeller. Old Man was currently on duty while the family slept. He heard noises in the foyer of the main house so he went to video and watched the family’s possessions being unloaded. Then he saw the same activity in the junior house. No one in either house heard a thing as far as the Old Man could tell.

A meeting had been called for 0600 of all four guards and the commander. The commander was Colonel Harold Masters and no one was aware that he was a Trump sympathizer. It had never seemed very important until right now. But he intended to play it cool. He would try to win small concessions for 45. This meeting was about providing Trump with some closed-circuit in-house video while making sure no signals could go out. They couldn’t give him real news because the news was all about the rebellion and the new inhabitants of the White House. Perhaps they could find a soldier who could broadcast fake news several times a day. Trump without TV or social media would not be pretty. His frustration and boredom might actually kill him.


They met in the bunker although it was a bit crowded with the five of them. Master’s told them about the newest project “Operation Fake News,” a bit ironic, but the other men probably wouldn’t see it that way. He needed to find two soldiers who could patch together some TV programming; a mix of old movies and news shows they either invented or cut from old news broadcasts. 

There was a tunnel underneath the barracks that went down from the bunker and then under the wall. This is the way soldiers from the base outside the wall were able to enter and exit the bunker. Food was wheeled in from the DFAC or “chow hall.” When it arrived, the Colonel ordered a breakfast break to give the men time to toss around some names. 

Michael (The Rock) White thought that Daisy Mellon used to be stationed in Hollywood and did some work in the movie business. Michael was pretty sure that Daisy would know who else would be good for this project.

Breakfast over, they all took their original seats to see what else was on the agenda. It turned out that the Colonel was worried about Trump’s health. He said that he did not want 45 to die on his watch. Since NY had sent no doctor they would have to provide one from within their ranks. 

He was hoping for someone who knew the brain and the circulatory system since Trump tended to have fairly frequent TIA’s. Nelson “Rockefeller” Court knew a doctor from his last posting who was at Guantanamo now. He thought he was a “heart” doctor. But his name was Hunter, Hunter Grant. Rockefeller reasoned his name might call up bad associations for the President.

“Well,” said the Colonel, “we can just call him Doc or Doctor Grant or we can find out his middle name and use that to introduce the doctor to Trump.”

“Let’s wrap this up and I will issue orders to these soldiers to see me and get the ball rolling. Thanks, men. Who’s on duty now?”

“I am, sir,” said Swimmer.

The Colonel rose, “Dismissed,” and a salute.

The Colonel’s salute returned, every one exited the bunker except for Swimmer.

A Promised Land by Barrack Obama – Book

From a Google Image Search – CNN

Hanging out with President Barrack Obama has been a real trip through his early days in politics, campaigning for the Senate, his journey through the presidential primary in 2007, his presidential campaign and a win that will seem like a bit of magic and a truly historical accomplishment. Obama was both a black man and a young man, fairly new to Washington, but with a grasp of American hopes and a charisma that fueled his improbable election. 

It took a while to finish Obama’s book, A Promised Land, but not because it wasn’t readable or revealing, just because there were so many things going on as the 2020 election unfolded and the events of January 6 th shocked us all. I was actually blogging about politics all through the Obama administration because the opposition to him in the Republican party and in the media, especially the alternative media (Fox News, Talk Radio) became a constant stream of negativity. As a Democrat, I agreed with Obama’s politics, but setting that aside, the use of racist tropes and the shade cast on his every move jump-started my love of the underdog. 

Obama’s book gives him space to reveal the thinking behind his actions as President and offers plenty of insight into foreign affairs, especially the upheavals in the Middle East, which perhaps grew out of the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq which Obama inherited but did not initiate. 

After blogging for the past decade, I published some of my posts in a series of books entitled Loving America to Death and two omnibus editions which cover all ten years, including the Trump administration. Reading about the same events I wrote about with the new advantage of being, in a sense, inside Obama’s head and heart was similar to time travel. He discusses but does not dwell on the ACA. The BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico and the difficulty plugging that leak was something we both wrote about. Obama touches on Fukushima, the tsunami and the failure of the nuclear reactor. The dual track optics was so odd for me. We were observing the same events; me as a citizen sitting out here in the cheap seats, and Obama as the prime actor, the President of the United States. 

Even if you don’t agree with Barrack Obama and you don’t like his politics and you think any of the dozens of complaints that were aired about him were true, it never hurts to spend time in someone else’s shoes. The memoir is personal, intimate, and informative and well worth the time it takes to read it. After all, it is our history.

Humiliating Biden, Owning the Libs

From a Google Image Search – The University News

Ten Republican Senators have come up with an alternative to Biden’s COVID Relief Plan. Biden has asked for $1.9 trillion in relief covering a number of areas where relief should help bolster the lives of individuals and the American economy. He explains that experts were consulted and they did the math. 

Republicans are offering a bill that totals $600 billion in relief, less than 1/3 of the amount experts say is needed. They know of Biden’s desire to be bipartisan and they have cleverly played him. Now the media is on President Biden’s case, broadcasting everywhere that if he doesn’t give the Republican plan serious consideration, negotiate with them, and come up with a compromise that he will have thrown bipartisanship out the window from the get-go.

There is certainly the possibility of entertaining a different take on this whole charade. Susan Collins, who is leading the charge, all smiles because she loves the media attention, is hardly a trustworthy actor. She claims the high ground in proposing supposedly bipartisan legislation but she often backs down at crunch time. 

Isn’t it also a bit humiliating to already question Biden’s ability to assess the needs of the nation? Doesn’t this ridiculously low ball offer reek of condescension? Aren’t Republicans, as always, painting Democrats as big spenders who don’t mind tanking the American economy? If you look back at our tanking economies they followed Republican administrations, and Democrats were stuck with turning the economy around every time. Real bipartisanship would be if Republicans were to come on board with the Biden plan in a show of confidence. They are not being bipartisan; they are being insulting.

It has been true through many administrations that every time Democrats came up with a solution for problems that plague the poorest Americans, the hard-working middle class, those who have suffered from disaster either natural or manmade, that the Republicans have doubted the American people’s honesty and have believed that some people would accept government aid forever (the deadbeats). 

Republicans have made people go through complicated bureaucratic processes to take part in programs like unemployment, food stamps, and Medicaid, while attaching a stigma to those who had to make use of such programs. Republicans never approve the funding that would make such programs really effective. In the name of cutting costs and lowering the deficit they cut the funding enough to affect the outcomes of the programs. Then Republicans claim that government programs don’t work. 

And so it goes with COVID relief. Offer a bare bones relief package that is too small to meet the needs of the moment and then use the ineffectiveness of Democratic legislation as a Republican selling point in the next election, or at least to prevent Democrats from being able to campaign on their successes.

The Republicans know how to play the media and they know that Biden might look bad if he doesn’t take the supposedly bipartisan bait. But this bait is just another poison pill, cheap bait that looks bipartisan but actually isn’t. 

Republicans take every opportunity to sell Americans on believing that the American government bears no responsibility to take care of its citizens, even in a pandemic, and that starving both citizens and the economy will be better for our financial recovery than any assistance the federal government could offer. Republicans are not only insulting America’s new President. They are protecting their new ‘small’ government from the neediness of ordinary (not wealthy) Americans. You’re on your own, but it will be ‘bipartisan’. The Republican ‘relief’ plan is an offer Biden cannot accept, but it appears that he is damned if he does accept it, and damned if he doesn’t. That’s some kind of phony bipartisanship.