Happy Birthday, Mr. President!

Yesterday was President Trump’s 74^th birthday, though, looking at him — noting how spry and vigorous and, yes, sexy he is — few would imagine him to be even two-thirds that age. As every other day, he got up at a few minutes after five in the morning and, with the help of his Marine valet personal trainer Emilio, read briefings for half an hour while working out on the Sportstech RSX600 rowing machine in the presidential gym in the Northeast Wing. Then it was over to the Sportstech SX500 exercycle for 20 minutes and more briefings, and finally onto the Sportstech LCX800 crosstrainer for 28 minutes. (Usually on Sundays, he’ll do “only” 20 minutes, but he prides himself on reading every syllable of the briefings his staff prepares for him every day, and wanted to finish the white paper on the economic re-opening Dr.Anthony Fauci’s team of epidemiologists had put together for him.) After a 20-minute game of half-court basketball with several former NBA reserve players (the President scored only four points, considerably below his average of 7.2, but had  three assists and the steal that led to his team to its last-minute victory.

After a rejuvenating hot shower and a few minutes with White House hairdresser Mr. Kenneth, the President enjoyed a vegan burrito, washed down with a jackfruit smoothie, while reading the Washington Post, the New York Times, and the Sydney Morning Herald, the president hurried out to the White House to continue instructing son Bannon, whose name I might be misspelling, in the manly art of fly fishing. (Over the course of his presidency, Mr. Trump has also found time to teach the lad how to hunt, sail, whittle, and replace the alternator in a wide range of GM, Ford, and Chrysler sedans, and throw a treacherous curveball). Then it was up to the First Lady’s quarters, where the first couple enjoyed tantric lovemaking until 8:45, when President Trump has his daily yoga session. En route down to presidential limousine the U.S.S American Hegemony, he accepted on his iPhone the birthday felicitations of a succession of world leaders, artists, and intellectuals, ranging from “Bibi” Netanyahu to former rock girlfriend-to-the-superstars Bebe Buell, to Burma’s Aug San Suu Kyi.

Until mid-afternoon, the president, disguised as Galician potato farmer Ana Agramonte Suarez, delivered Meals on Wheels and read from the New Testament to shut-ins in the District of Columbia’s impoverished Ward 8. He washed the feet of lepers at the little-known Our Lady of Unassailable Sanctimony leper colony in Cascades, Virginia, and then, back at the White House, meditated on the West Lawn with his friend Mike Love, formerly of the Beach Boys, and longtime operative Corey Lewandowski.

You might imagine that the president would have devoted at least an hour or two to opening some of the thousands of gifts world leaders and ordinary Americans had sent him, but he left that pleasant task to new press secretary Kayleigh McEnany, she of the whimsically spelled first name, and longtime apologista Kellyanne Conway, who is said to loathe Kayleigh for being younger and prettier than she, and not yet as widely loathed.

At half past four, the United States Marine Corps Mixed Chorus, Ms. Sha’Neeka Higgup’s third grade class from Emmett Till School in Ward 8, and the choir of the Exalt Him Daily African Methodist church of Baltimore squeezed into the Oval Office to sing both the familiar white folks'  “Happy Birthday”, for public performance of which Warner/Chappell Music is no longer able to collect licensing royalties, and Stevie Wonder’s rather hipper song of the same title. The president pronounced the performance “extraordinarily moving,” and asserted that he would never forget it, which, given that he was in the process of turning 74, may very well be true.

After an hour of overturning environmental regulations designed by previous administrations to thwart American economic growth, and to ensure the ongoing drinkability of its water, the president retired with the First Lady and son Bannon to the White House cinema to enjoy Ingmar Bergman’s “Smiles Of A Summer Night” together though there is no trace of Jean-Claude van Damme in it.

Happy birthday, Mr. President!