The Freedom Check

President Schlump walked onto the stage. His entourage unfurled a banner:

MIDTERM MIRACLE: VOTE RIGHT, GET RICH

The White House would later confirm that the slogan had survived a rigorous review.

Schlump obnoxiously tapped the microphone, and the sound of piggy figures scrapping against sensitive circuits skittered across every eardrum present.

“Folks! We have a massive announcement. A huge announcement. The biggest announcement we’ve ever had.

“People tell me all the time: ‘Schlump, nobody announces things like you. Everyone says it!

“Anyway, here’s the announcement: Five thousand dollars. Five thousand dollars for every American. We are going to give every citizen Freedom Checks. Big, beautiful checks. But only if you vote for us during the midterms! We must win the midterms to save America! Over! Nothing will end America like not voting for us in the midterms!”

Some in the crowd cheered, while others murmured angrily. Schlump waited for them to stop.

“Now, people are asking, ‘President Schlump, where is this money coming from?’ And that’s an excellent question. Tremendous question. You ask such amazing questions.

“We have assets. Precious assets. The most valuable assets in the universe. One of those assets is the Moon.”

The President held up a comically oversized check and an AI-generaated image of the Moon. He was met with stunned silence.

The Monetary Incentive Fun sounds dubious…

A reporter raised his hand.

“The Moon, Mr. President?”

“The Moon. Our moon. The USA owns the Moon. We’ve owned it for a long time. Very complicated business, but it’s ours. It is mine, really, but I am generous. Nobody is more generous than I am!

“And it’s been sitting there doing nothing for years. So we’re going to sell it. Maybe the whole thing. Maybe pieces of it. We’ll see. We’ll get tremendous money for it. And then we give the American people five thousand dollar cheques!”

The reporter looked down at his notes.

“Mr. President, are you saying you can legally sell the Moon? Sir, there are international treaties that say nobody owns the Moon or other parts of space. The United States is a signatory to such treaties.”

“Old treaties. Ancient treaties. Nobody reads them. Nobody but me understands them. I have wonderful people looking into it. Very smart people. Moon people.”

The reporter frowned. “Moon people?”

He moved on before anyone could ask another question.

“If we win the midterms, we sell the Moon. If we lose, no Moon sale. No Moon sale, no Freedom Checks. Very simple.”

A reporter shouted:

“What happens if the Moon sale gets delayed?”

“Very unlikely. Could happen. Maybe somebody who hates freedom. Like the Democrats. But we’ll get it done. We always get it done. Nobody gets things done like we do!”

Another reporter called out:

“And what happens when you run out of moon?”

Schlump laughed.

“We won’t run out of moon. It’s an enormous moon. People don’t understand how big the Moon is. Nobody knows how big it is!”

“Sir, we have measured the size of the Moon…”

“Fake news! I alone know the Moon’s size. The Space Force visited recently.”

The crowd gasped and exchanged confused whispers and glances.

“Sir, there have been no Moon launches.”

Schlump pointed at the reporter. “A very unpatriotic question! Stop questioning America!”

The crowd murmured. Schlump continued.

“And we can always sell Mars. Beautiful planet. Tremendous planet. Very red. Great place for condos! We’ll look at it.”

Schlump posted this on his Lies Antisocial page earlier this week..

The band began playing the national anthem.

Schlump waved to the crowd.

“Five thousand dollars. Moon money. Freedom money. Your money. Everybody gets money.”

Confetti fell from the ceiling. Schlump smiled.

“That’s patriotism. That’s America! Only I can promise that! Only I am fighting for a strong and free America.”

A final reporter shouted: “Mr. President, is any of this legal? It sounds a lot like bribery. That involves the illegal buying of votes, which is forbidden by… 18 US Code…”

“Dumbocrat! Get out of here! You should be ashamed! You want America to be poor! This conference is over!” and without further ado, Schlump and his entourage stormed off stage. Half of the crowd cheered his abrupt departure, while the other raged angirly among themselves.

Brant Husk looked nervously from behind the stage. He later told this reporter he watched the shares of his Space-Z company plunge downwards on his phone. “So much for my Martian colony…” he murmured.