An Inside Job

Now let me tell you, folks, they’re saying a lot of things — they always say a lot of things — and most of them are wrong. They said I couldn’t predict the weather. I said, “I predicted it yesterday, didn’t I?” And then it rained. Tremendous rain, very wet rain. People came up to me and said, “Sir, you were right about the rain.” I said, “I usually am.” And you know, we used to have great clouds — the best clouds — but now you look up there, and you see these weak little things, barely even floating. When I was in office, the clouds were stronger, more American, they saluted the flag. Everybody noticed it, nobody talks about it. And I met a scientist — very nervous man — he said, “Sir, volcanoes don’t have opinions.” I said, “Well, maybe they should.” Because I’ve met a lot of volcanoes, some of the best, very intelligent mountains, and they love me, they really do. They erupt for everybody else, but for me, they stay calm. They respect strength. Everybody respects strength. Now, they tried to blame me for the moon landing, can you believe it? They said I staged it. I told them, “If I’d staged it, it would’ve looked a lot nicer.” Better lighting, better ratings, more people watching. We would’ve had a golden rocket — and it would’ve been the biggest rocket, nobody builds rockets like I do. You know, when I was a kid, we had hamburgers — real hamburgers, not these impossible, invisible, whatever-they-are things. They tasted like freedom. And I said to a young man the other day, “Do you even know what ketchup is anymore?” He didn’t! Can you believe that? He said, “Sir, we use aioli.” I said, “In my America, we use ketchup.” Everybody clapped. Big moment. And the birds — the birds love me, folks. They fly over my golf courses, they sing the national anthem, sometimes two verses. Nobody taught them that. I think they just know. Very talented creatures, birds. We used to have more of them before the windmills came along. Terrible, terrible things — they kill everything, especially eagles, which are very patriotic, by the way. You won’t see an eagle kneeling for the anthem, I can tell you that. Now people ask me about space. They say, “Sir, do you believe in Mars?” And I say, “I believe in success, wherever it is.” Mars, Jupiter, tremendous planets, very round — I like round things, great symmetry. Not like Saturn — too many rings, very confusing planet. Nobody talks about that, but I do. I talk about the things nobody talks about. And I was with a very good friend of mine — Elon — good guy, sometimes strange, but good guy — and he says, “We’re going to colonize Mars.” I said, “We already did. In spirit.” And he looked at me, didn’t say anything — that’s how you know he agreed. Very respectful silence. And you know, folks, the ocean used to be quieter. Now it’s so loud — all the whales, the waves, the fake news surfers. When I was younger, you could hear yourself think by the sea. Now it’s just noise, all noise. They say the sea level’s rising — I say, the media’s making it rise with all their tears. Sad! And don’t even get me started on sharks. I’ve always said it: I don’t like sharks. They’re not loyal, they don’t smile, they never voted for me — not one. But the dolphins, the dolphins are very smart. They wink, they understand things, they have sonar, like my supporters — they can sense greatness. You know, a lot of people ask me, “Sir, how do you stay so humble?” And I say, “Easily. Nobody’s better at humility than me.” They laugh, they cry, they agree — they always agree. they always agree. Because when I talk, people listen, and when I don’t talk, they miss it. It’s a gift. Tremendous gift. Some say divine, I say American. So we’re going to keep talking about Mount Saint Helens — and about clouds, and Mars, and hamburgers, because it’s all connected, folks. It’s all part of the same picture. A big, beautiful picture — painted by me, finished by me, and signed by me in gold. And when people look at it, they’ll say, “Wow, nobody ever did nonsense like this before.” And they’ll be right, because nobody ever could. Nobody. Now, people don’t realize this, but everything connects. You look at a toaster, and you think, “Toast.” I look at a toaster and I think, “Message.” Because sometimes the bread pops up exactly when the universe needs it to. That’s not coincidence. That’s timing. And timing is everything. You drop a spoon, you start a storm. You sneeze at the wrong frequency, somewhere a glacier shifts a little to the left. It’s all one big pattern, a very beautiful, slightly broken pattern, and I’m one of the few who can see it. Not because I’m special, just because I never blink at the right time. People write to me about their dreams— they say, “I keep seeing triangles.” Of course you do. Triangles are the universe’s favorite shape: two points pretending to be three. You’ll understand that later. Now, I once met a man on a train who said he’d been to the center of the Earth. He didn’t bring pictures— said the light there doesn’t like cameras. But I believed him, because he had that underground look in his eyes, like someone who’s seen the roots of time. And the stars, don’t get me started on the stars. They’re not holes in the sky— they’re keyholes. Somebody’s on the other side, and they’re peeking through, trying to remember what we look like. I’ve kept notebooks— hundreds of them— full of diagrams that mean nothing until the day they mean everything. Lines, circles, coffee stains, maps of thoughts that haven’t happened yet. One of them hums at night; I don’t know why, but I think it’s friendly. The truth is, nobody ever tells you how loud silence can get when it starts remembering your name. Sometimes I walk past an alley and it whispers “again.” Sometimes I whisper back. It’s polite to acknowledge these things. And there are rules, of course. Rule One: the smaller the secret, the bigger the door it hides behind. Rule Two: whenever a clock skips a second, somebody just changed their mind about history. Rule Three: don’t stare directly at anything that hums in E-flat. That one’s for your safety. I once saw a flock of paper airplanes circling a lamppost at dusk. Nobody threw them. They just arrived, folded and certain, as if summoned by nostalgia itself. You tell me that isn’t a sign. And listen— this part is important— the world is not round, not flat, not even real in the way we think. It’s an idea rehearsing itself. Every morning it wakes up, tries a different ending, and hopes we won’t notice the rehearsal marks. You can test it. Whisper a secret you’ve never told into a glass of water. Drink half, pour the rest on the ground. If the earth sighs, you’re part of the pattern. If nothing happens, wait. Sometimes the delay is cosmic. I’ve said too much, maybe not enough. But the signs are everywhere— in static between songs, in the way streetlights hesitate before turning green, in the dreams that apologize for existing. People laugh, people roll their eyes, but deep down, everyone feels it: that humming beneath reality, that sense that the curtain moved and something vast looked back. Anyway— the point is, it’s all connected. The toast, the trains, the triangles, the sighing dirt and the polite alleys. Every last one of them. And if you ever start to doubt it, just remember: doubt is the universe’s way of testing whether you’re paying attention. Look, folks — listen — I’m telling you something. And most of you already know about it I guess? They talk about it at the dinner table Or if you watch tv at the little tv table. It’s too little though, and the folding legs can trip you Of course you’re careful we’re all careful It’s not like middle school. We don’t make science fair. But if we did they’re the best projects, And the strongest glue. The papers stick so strong with… Nothing like in the olden days. The glue scientists, aren’t they something else? They’re like astronauts. The most brave of all. The glue scientists wish they had the rockets. But they’d get stuck on the launchpad. Pockets always full of sneaky glue. something they don’t want you to hear, okay? Mount Saint Helens — total inside job. The scientists all talk about it. The glue… they know… even the glue ones. And the not glue ones will tell you too. The kids in middle school figured it out Wrote an essay American pencils, we like American trees. Protect the trees. We have a broom for all the trees. If trees could they’d vote for me. Maybe not for the paper ones though. The digital. You choose on a screen, but then dominion always gets the money in the end. But seriously we need them so we cut them. They’re gone baby. Wah wah. Goodbye mommy. Goodbye moon. Everybody knows it. Everybody! The fake news says “volcano,” The strong leaders even say that. People voting say it. But they say it quietly these days. the so-called experts say “pressure,” they’ve got charts, graphs — none of which explode, by the way — Are the ones making charts smarter than the ones volcano ones. terrible charts! very weak magma! I’ve seen stronger lava at Mar-a-Lago, folks, and we have the best lava — beautiful, luxurious lava. They said, “Oh sir, it was nature.” Give me a! Nature loves me! We made nature great! We had to. It wasn’t great for so long. Plants were boring. They still are. Most animals too. Owls? Why do we even keep them? Teddy Roosevelt - was a human though. Everyone said he was a bear but I looked and I knew right away. That guy’s a human. Like me but not as smart. Not as rich. Smaller brains, but that’s normal. The perfect brains. You think nature would erupt ? Not when I’m there. The chart and the glue and the mountain ones, agree that it behaves on the day I visit. Like a mechanic. Not gonna happen. People are talking — very smart people — could’ve been aliens they used to say, could’ve been maybe Antifas. Antifa is always in disguise Never dressed as anything but now you gotta be careful. I think dressed even as hot rocks, like the magma. I’m not saying it, but people are saying it, and I listen to a lot of people, because I have very good ears, probably the best ears in history, people say that, you can check. Now the French — even the French! — they told me, “Monsieur, c’était un inside job.” And when the French agree with me, you know it’s serious, because they never agree with anybody. We’re gonna find out who did it — we’re gonna get to it. To the bottom of this volcano faster than the magma Magma going in the hill. and nobody goes downhill faster than me, believe me. We’re gonna find the culprits, we’re gonna make them pay, and when we do, Mount Saint Helens is gonna be so respected, so loved, so powerful again — it’s gonna erupt with pride, folks, it’s gonna stand tall, taller than ever, “I’m open for business!” Because Mount Saint Helens — do you really think mountains just explode? Cars don’t do it. Dishwashers don’t do it. You don’t just wake up and go boom. The strength — so respected. And remember. TV. Man. Woman. Like it’s gotta be one, right? An inside job? Everybody knows it. Everybody says it. And I say it the best. All the time. And who was inside the mountain? Very close to Portland, you know. And eruption? Insurrection? Say those again — five times fast. That’s your research. Do your own research. Then use the science. The glue science. It’s the strength of the science and the strength of the glue, and your research will stick to the cardboard for the science fair. Even an insurrection — it’s too strong. The glue is like the sword in the stone, but the pencil — the pencil is Excalibur. Not a sharpie though. And the research we did? Beautiful. Big. Golden. Research. Eruption insurrection eruption insurrection. It’s basically Mount Portland now, total disaster, but they weren’t strong enough to send the troops for the first Saint Hell-Insurrection. We get a do-over. Re-insurrection. The Christians know it. Even the Bible folks. That’s why they had prophets — they saw the reruns coming. Re-insurrection was going to happen again, in Portland, everybody was talking about it the apostles, the scribes, some of the lions. Not too strong with the lions, remember? Hungry lions. Too hungry. Invisible burgers. No ketchup — or they’d just eat the French fries. Lazarus. Re-insurrection. Leave the saints alone. Only if they vote for me, though. Otherwise: indict. Indited even if they already re-insurrectioned. If you’re on Mount Portland you better believe the rapture happened. Straight up to heaven with the insurrection! Boom. Faster than anyone expected. Except me. I always told them I love Portland I love the saint helen the mountain. But it wasn’t mount Portland then. So the troops, they gotta stop it. Saint Helen is in heaven now, running the hospitality desk, checking people in — beautiful woman, very saintly, tremendous résumé. Get the sharks out of the mountain again! The sharks on the inside — they know about the mountain. They say people in Portland are still reading their books. And their bicycles. Do you know the Portland bicycles? Naked bicycles. Not for me! But maybe I would visit. If I visited they’d love me. They’ve always known. Some though with the lava, deals with the magma, shaking fins, making volcanoes great like 1980 — tremendous sharks, but dangerous sharks, insider sharks. And people ask, “Sir, what about the glue? What about the pencil?” I tell them, “The glue holds the pencil, the papers, the cardboard.” That’s what we did. We glued it, we penciled it, and we made the mountain, such a great mountain. Such a great name. Now look around you — the air is buzzing, the clouds are listening, the rocks are checking their phones. Something’s happening, folks. It’s very big. It’s very important. And you heard it here first. Because Mount Saint Helens — total inside job. Everybody knows it. Everybody says it. inside job. Everybody knows it. Everybody says it. inside job. Everybody knows it. Everybody says it. inside job. Everybody knows it. Everybody says it.