Donald Trump is the Santa Claus of politics.
Ol’ St. Don glided down the glass escalator in Trump Tower seven years ago, much the way Ol’ St. Nick slides down a chimney. Weary from world travels and splotched with soot from so many fireplaces, he brought cheer and joy with his rosy cheeks and buoyant nature.
Dressed in bold colors like a Christmas ornament and carrying a sack of hidden presents on his back, how could anyone not love him? Especially a child!
Because the satchel is closed with presents just barely peeking out, children dream. They imagine anything and everything might be in that sack for them.
In dreaming, children lose the inhibitions of hard reality.
Forget a train set. There might be an actual honest-to-God, great big diesel locomotive in that dirty sack! A live pony! A castle with a prince!
After all, Ol’ St. Nick arrived on the back of a sleigh drawn by eight reindeer and landed on the roof.
Right? He just slid down a glass escalator with a gorgeous woman on his arm into instant political stardom.
In that sack was a wall — a wall that Mexico paid for! A job for every child that wanted one — regardless of race or gender or creed or whatever!
Lumps of coal for evil tyrants in China, Iran and even Russia!
Factories in America would open again. And the next time you visited Japan, you would see people driving around in American cars. When was the last time you saw an American car on the streets of Tokyo?
And dishwashers. American dishwashers would work again, with plenty of water coursing through strong jets to get all your plates nice and clean.
Not to mention all the wives in America who would be so impressed with their husbands when they looked at their 401(k) statements.
Truly Christmas morning in America again!
My dream was that Ol’ St. Don would order every one of his Cabinet secretaries into the Oval Office and give each one seven minutes to explain why his Cabinet agency should not be abolished. He would televise it live across the country.
People would tune in. Ol’ St. Don would be seated at the Resolute Desk, flanked by his elves, Ivanka and Jared and Don Jr. and Eric — all dressed up in little green pointy hats. With bells.
The next week, on live television, each Cabinet secretary would be summoned again. Labor and Education and Commerce would all be fired!
Defense, Treasury and Veterans Affairs would all be spared.
Justice would be put on life support: Reform or die. The FBI would be gutted.
The massive communist monstrosities along the National Mall that once housed the abolished Labor, Education and Commerce departments would be cleaned out.
The Trump family would take them over and open Trump casinos in each one — because a casino is less destructive and corrosive to society than leviathan federal departments that serve no purpose but to soak up the hard-earned money of innocent taxpayers in return for punishing federal regulations.
But the Trump casinos would fail and go bankrupt because, for some reason, Trump casinos are the only ones that do not make money.
The buildings would be dynamited and the rubble hauled away. These massive, concrete communist structures — each an affront to freedom and beauty — would be returned to green space along the National Mall.
Trees would be planted. Gardens would flourish.
Bird-watchers and butterfly collectors would rejoice.
Christmas morning in America again.
The amazing thing about Ol’ St. Don is that he actually did have all those things he said were in his bag. Everything except the last one — that dream about abolishing whole departments of the federal government. But a fellow can still dream. And still does.
As for everything else, Ol’ St. Don delivered.
He forced Mexico to seal the border — even if he did not fix the overall immigration problem. He punished evil tyrants, such as Vladimir Putin. Jobs for all. Children everywhere rejoiced in their 401(k)s!
Until Grinch Biden came along and took the lumps of coal away from Russia and China, and Iran and handed them out to all the little children. He turned Mr. Putin’s coal into gold, and he snatched away the 401(k)s from little children in America. He destroyed the American dollar and sprinkled inflation on every rooftop. He handed the border to the drug cartels and human smugglers.
This Christmas has been stolen by Grinch Biden. But ’tis the season for hope. And Santa Claus does still exist.
• Charles Hurt is the opinion editor at The Washington Times.