"We need new leadership," the malcontents said, urged on by Uncle Rush, Aunt Laura, and Fux News. "Someone who will make Shamelin great again. The last Leader wasn't even a Shamelian. He sure didn't look like one of us."
The cry went up from the voices of millions of Shamelians "Make Shamelin Great Again!" Hardly had they spoken, when a voice boomed out to them from the sky, or so it seemed. It actually came from their TVs.
"I am a famous TV star. You know me as The Boss. I'm also the world's greatest real estate developer. I'm so good at what I do I've gone bankrupt a bunch of times. How many people can say that? I will save Shamelin from its enemies within and without. I will get rid of the rats plaguing this country. Make it great again. There will be bigly changes. The best bigly changes. I will build a wall! A bigly wall. The best wall. To keep out the bad people. Bad people. Rapists, drug dealers, killers. Sad. The best things will happen to the economy. It will be so yuge you can dress in dollars."
The unhappy Shamelians cheered. They felt a sudden surge of pride in his words, even though his face had a weird orange glow. No one had spoken to them with such brilliance in decades, if ever. The Boss is our man, they thought, and we have made him possible. Because we love our country. They cried out as one: "How can we help you, Boss?"
"Vote for me in the next election for The Leader. The Dumbocrats think they have it locked up. But I have a secret weapon. Friends in very high places. Bigly places. The bigliest places."
"Who are those friends?" asked one slightly skeptical Shamelian. The people around him grabbed and beat him, and told him to shut up.
"I can't tell you that. It's a secret. But they love you and want to help you defeat the Dumbocrats. Now, if you want me to save you, you must love me. I can't stand to be unloved. Sad! See you at the polls!"
Voting day came, and the results were close. The Dumbocrat candidate for Leader got more votes. But Shamelin had an odd clause in its constitution, which allowed the loser to win. Forgive me for not explaining it. Only three people have ever understood it. One is dead, the second went mad. I'm the third, and I forgot.
This is how The Boss became The Leader, along with help from the people in high places. He started off his Leadership by engaging in his favorite task: firing people. Not only people from previous Leaders' administrations. He even fired his own people after a while, people he said were the best people when he hired them. He said they did not love him enough, did not appreciate his genius. He hired replacements who, he said, were also the best people, even better.
He soon made it clear who was Boss on Zed. He told other countries that Shamelin was number one and should get all the best stuff. Other countries had some good points, if they were trying to be like Shamelin, but they were sad places compared to number one. A lot of them, he said, were shithole countries. His supporters cheered these statesmanlike words.
He insulted Shamelin's allies and refused to cooperate with them to protect the Zedian environment. To show who was Boss, he got rid of environmental protections. "We have lots of bottled water for sale. And a little polluted water won't hurt you," he said. "And smoke is good for the lungs. Makes you tough, like me." He told the leaders of certain countries that he would destroy them if they didn't do exactly what he said. When they didn't do as he said, he said he loved them and wanted to be best pals.
His supporters loved this kind of talk. They loved everything he said, because he said it. He could say one thing one day and the opposite the next. They would cheer it all. They would deny he ever lied or made an incorrect statement. He was the most honest Leader Shamelin had ever had. And he knew more than anybody, on any subject. He was, as he so often said, a stable genius.
He was so brilliant, so perfect in every way, that some of his most enthusiastic supporters claimed he had been sent by God to save Shamelin, God's favorite country. The Boss agreed and began to do something new: he prayed, or made others pray for him. One day he proclaimed that he had done more for the true faith than God himself.
Things went along swimmingly like this for about three years. About that time, Orientia, a very large country in the Far East, reported the outbreak of a new epidemic disease. It was killing many people, mostly old. The major symptom was laughing, which ranged from a mild Ha! Ha! to a ceaseless, hysterical guffawing. When a patient cried out, "I'm going to die laughing," the doctors knew it was all over.
The Boss' medical advisors told him about the new disease. "It's so far away. It'll never get here." They told him it was caused by a virus. "What's a virus?" he asked. When they told him, he laughed. "Nothing that small could hurt a person, unless they were small, too. Like the Orientans. Nothing to worry about."
Unfortunately, the virus did not heed the Boss's words. It spread to many countries on Zed. Within a few weeks, it had arrived in Shamelin. The Boss laughed it off. "It's a hoax. Just a common garden variety bug. We might have a handful of cases, all mild, and then poof, it will be gone. It might kill a few old, useless persons, but nobody will miss them. Leeches. Sad! I know more about this virus than anyone. The doctors are amazed by my knowledge."
Once again, the brainless virus outwitted the genius. The number of cases mounted, slowly at first, then more rapidly. They included people of all ages, not only the old. The Boss blamed his political opponents. He blamed other countries, especially the Orientans. He blamed the media. "Bad reporters," he said. He blamed his medical advisors. "They're Chicken Littles. Always crying about the sky falling."
Things got worse. "No one warned me about this," he said. "It caught me by surprise." He said the whole virus thing was an underground plot to make him look bad. "They want to spoil my chances to get reelected and become Leader for Life."
As the virus spread, Shamelin's lack of preparation quickly became obvious. Those fighting the epidemic lacked the protective equipment, the testing kits, and the technology to do their job. The Leader insisted that these things could be had in plenty if health care workers weren't stealing them.
When the governors of Shamelin's hardest hit provinces asked The Leader for help, he told them they didn't love him enough to deserve it. They needed to applaud his genius. He told them to help themselves. "I have absolute authority. But the responsibility is yours."
One day, The Leader told an astounded country, "This virus is really dangerous. It could kill a lot of people. If we can keep the number of dead under 200 million that would be a victory. And that victory will be my doing!"
Hearing this, the Shamelians -- well, about half of them -- cheered wildly. The rest put their hands to their faces in disbelief, even though they knew that could spread the virus.
Things, as you can imagine, got worse.
[I invite my readers to guess how this story will end.]
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