U.S. Secretary of Commerce Howard Lutnick cried unto the heavens, “Oh lord above, I beseech thee, may the American people toil long hours for less money in inclement weather.”
The skies opened and a brilliant light shone upon the earth. And unto Lutnick the MAGA lord spake, “It's time to train people not to do the jobs of the past, but to do the great jobs of the future. This is the new model, where you work in these kind of plants for the rest of your life, and your kids work here, and your grandkids work here.”
Overcome with joy, Lutnick fell upon his knees, and the MAGA lord said, “Come now therefore and I will send thee unto the American people so thou mayest bring them forth into the land of prosperity.”
And Lutnick said unto the MAGA lord, “Who am I that I should go unto the American people and say these things?”
The MAGA lord answered, “You are a billionaire.”
And Lutnick went unto the people and spake unto them. And all the people saw the thunderings and lightings and the noise of the triumphant election results. They removed themselves and stood far away, for Lutnick’s face was radiant.
And they said unto Lutnick, “Speak thou with us, but let not the MAGA god speak with us, lest we be sued.”
“Fear not. For thou toil has come to an end. No longer shall ye be shackled in an air-conditioned office. Ye loins shall be free of ergonomic chairs. The plague of carpal tunnel syndrome and text neck is over.”
And the whole of the congregation murmured against him.
“Roll up thine sleeves and dip soft hands into vats of grease and oil. May callouses form upon thine skin if not thine hearts. For ye will be reborn. Cast off the yoke of soulless email jobs. Cast them into the eternal fires of hell!”
And the crowd beseeched Lutnick and said, “What visions hath thou seen?”
The people did chide him, “But what shall we do? We have grown accustomed to fringe benefits.”
“Do not pray to false idols. For the god of MAGA hath said unto me, ‘Too many non-working holidays in America. It is costing our Country $BILLIONS OF DOLLARS to keep all of these businesses closed. The workers don’t want it either! Soon we’ll end up having a holiday for every once working day of the year. It must change if we are going to, MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!’”
The crowd grew restless still and cried out, “Peradventure, how shalt we afford toys for our children to play with?”
“Our lord and savior, the exalted one, hath said unto me, ‘Well, maybe the children will have two dolls instead of 30 dolls. So maybe the two dolls will cost a couple bucks more than they would normally.’”
And the MAGA god spoke unto Lutnick, “Thus thou shalt say unto my children, ‘We're going to become so rich, you're not gonna know where to spend all that money. I'm telling you—just watch!’”
That evening, Lutnick prepared a burnt offering of the American auto industry, green technologies, and small business owners. And Lutnick took half the blood and put it in basins, and half the blood he sprinkled on the altar.
Lutnick took the blood and sprinkled it on the people, and said, “Behold the blood of the covenant, which the MAGA lord hath made with ye.”
And the congregation of the children of America journeyed into the economic wilderness. According to the commandments of the MAGA lord, they ceased to educate themselves at four year universities, dismantled the Department of Education, tore down labor laws and environmental regulations, set teenagers to work night shifts, and accepted $TRUMP crypto tokens for wages.
And so it came to pass there was no work for the people, for AI and humanoid robots were all the billionaires needed, and there was no social safety net for the afflicted.
Wherefore the people did harry Lutnick and said, “Give us water and bread. Ye have brought forth into this wilderness this whole assembly to kill with hunger!”
And Lutnick spake, “Ye are idle; ye are idle. Away!”
Once more Lutnick cried unto the MAGA lord saying, “My lord, what shall I do unto this people? They be almost ready to stone me.”
And the lord grew wroth and spake unto Lutnick, “Do I have to do everything around here? Hunter Biden’s laptop, Benghazi, Hillary’s email, Barack Hussein Obama, the Epstein list. Pick one already!”
Blake (one who wrestles with MAGA)
Welcome to the Postscript
The Postscript is a compilation of jokes and interesting tidbits constructed from material I deemed tangential to the final draft.
PS—I started this farce a month ago. Sadly, world events broke my funny bone. It’s on the mend now, thanks for asking.
PPS—The first draft was not a biblical parody. Instead, it riffed on a scene from the movie Zoolander where the protagonist, male model Derek Zoolander, quits modeling to return to his hometown. There, he joins his family working in the coal mines.
A metaphor for American white-collar workers’ future? You be the judge:
“I think I’m getting the black lung, pop.”
I grow tired of Ps—Now that all I have to offer society is the sweat from my brow and the strength of my back, I can fulfill my childhood dreams of being a day laborer. While my relevant experience is dated (I mowed neighbors’ lawns in middle school), I just know whatever comes next will be spiritually fulfilling. You see, all of the thinking and writing and calculating I have been paid to do over the years never produced anything I could stick in my mouth and bite down on to prove it was real.
But I cannot help myself—This essay is what happens when my warped mind reads ‘The Book of Exodus’. May I burn in hellfire.