Great Leader's Third Term of Office

I was minding my own business the other day when I read that Great Leader had declared he was "not joking" about seeking a third presidential term.

At that precise moment, I nearly choked on a pretzel while laughing, belching, and attempting to remain a responsible citizen.

Naturally, I decided to investigate.

For the next several hours, I searched the Constitution, legal commentaries, historical records, law journals, old newspapers, and enough scholarly material to qualify for an honorary degree from Harvard.

Result?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Not a sentence.

Not a paragraph.

Not a constitutional loophole.

Not even a sticky note attached to the back of the Constitution reading:

"P.S. This rule does not apply to Great Leader."

Nope. Nothing.

Of course, if I'm mistaken, please don't hesitate to inform me.

And if I happen to be unavailable, unconscious, napping, or engaged in serious beer research, simply contact my stand-in, Delmas, whose full-time occupation is apparently cleaning up behind me.

Meanwhile, Great Leader's online store is selling "Trump 2028" hats for the bargain-basement price of $55.

Fifty-five dollars.

For a hat.

When I was a kid, fifty-five dollars bought a suit, a steak dinner, two movie tickets, and left enough money for a cigar.

Today it buys a hat.

Progress.

Now, before anybody objects, let me remind you that it is late, and I am currently conducting advanced scientific research involving my fourth can of Crank Yanker IPA.

At this stage of the experiment, my judgment may be slightly compromised.

For example, I briefly thought Congress was functioning normally.

Fortunately, the feeling passed.

An admittedly unreliable source has also informed me that patriotic consumers can purchase a six-pack of "Donnie's Petite Condoms."

The source further claimed that, for an additional ten dollars per condom, each one comes with Stormy Daniels' autograph.

Whether this is true remains unknown.

Frankly, I'm afraid to verify it.

Some mysteries are best left unsolved.

As the great philosopher Wilt Chamberlain once said, "How sweet it is."

What's that, Delmas?

Again?

It was Jackie Gleason?

Fine.

Wonderful.

At this point I'm beginning to suspect that Delmas only keeps me around for entertainment purposes.

The latest theory circulating among Great Leader's Certified Sycophants is that he could simply run as a write-in candidate for a third term.

Just write him in.

Problem solved.

Apparently constitutional amendments are now treated the same way as speed limits:

more of a suggestion than a rule.

But let's look at the practical side.

Suppose that just a small percentage of voters struggle with spelling.

Not everyone.

Just enough.

Can you imagine election night?

The ballots would read:

Trump.

Trunp.

Trumb.

Tromp.

Thrump.

The Orange Guy.

The Guy From Television.

My Favorite Felon.

That Loud Fella.

Election officials would spend six months trying to determine whether "Turnip" was intended to be a candidate.

By the time they finished counting, the 2032 election would already be underway.

Then there's Great Leader himself.

He'll be 84 years old in 2028.

Eighty-four.

By that age, most people are looking forward to grandchildren, retirement, afternoon naps, and remembering where they put their glasses.

Great Leader wants the nuclear codes.

That's ambition.

Or medication failure.

One of the two.

Still, I remain confident that if Natalie Harp is around, she will find a way.

If technology can put a man on the moon, surely someone can figure out how to keep Great Leader campaigning indefinitely.

Perhaps holograms.

Perhaps artificial intelligence.

Perhaps simply replacing all government portraits with giant gold-framed photographs and hoping nobody notices.

By 2032, campaign rallies could consist of Great Leader being wheeled onto a stage in a gold-plated recliner while a recording announces:

"Ladies and gentlemen, your President-for-Life will begin speaking as soon as we locate his reading glasses."

At that point, "Great Leader" would no longer be an appropriate title.

A new nickname would be required.

Something historical.

Something majestic.

Something worthy of advanced age and unlimited political aspirations.

I therefore nominate:

THE GERITOL KID

Riding bravely into the sunset on a motorized scooter, armed with a Sharpie, a grievance list, three Diet Cokes, and a hat that costs more than my first automobile.

See you in 2028.

Assuming I'm still here.

Assuming Delmas hasn't resigned.

And assuming the Constitution hasn't been replaced by a loyalty card from the Trump Online Store.