As the former president rose from his bed, he stretched his torso, farted, and dislodged his eye boogers.

Then he asked his valet, “Matt, have you checked my GoFundMe page? Have we hit a million dollars?”

“Boss, I checked a few minutes ago and no you haven’t hit a million yet. But you’re getting there. Once you hit the million mark, you’ll only have 353 million bucks to go.”

Trump inhaled, smiled and thought, “My gas smells so sweet! I have the sweetest flatulence of all American presidents.”

“Matt, have you read last night’s emails?”

“Of course, Boss. Some of your fans, the ones that bought those gold sneakers, wrote that they’re embarrassed to send money to your GoFundMe page. It makes it hard for them to tell their friends that you’re a successful, billionaire businessman and send you cash at the same time.”

“Write them back and tell them that it’s my strategy to find out who my real supporters are. I’m taking names of GoFundMe donors to help me pick future cabinet members. You know that loyalty means the world to me.

For my fans that claim that my fundraising platform is an embarrassment, tell them to visit my GoFuckMe crowdsourcing site.”

The Donald laughed at his own joke.

“My critics say I don’t have a sense of humor. But I know I’m the funniest president in American history.”

Matt followed suit and then said, “Some fans are saying that you’re a genius for coming up with the GoFundMe scheme. While others are worried that GoFundMe will remove you from their pages because they no longer support legal defense funds.”

“Tell them not to worry. That ain’t gonna happen to me. I sent emails to the GoFundMe execs telling them, ‘If you dare remove my request for funds, you’ll end up swimming with the fishes and when I’m back in office the IRS will audit you and if you ever want to see your kids again you better not do it.’”

“Wow Boss, those are some pretty harsh words.”

“I had to show them that I meant business. I need every penny I can get.”

“Boss, before I bring you your coffee and your McDonald’s bacon, egg and cheese biscuit, do you need anything else?”

“Yeah, last night, did that clown, Laitner, post any derogatory blogs about me in The Times of Israel ?”

“No Boss.”

And The Donald smiled.

—

“Mort, the presidential election is 259 days away and I’m getting a bissel nervous because Mr.-$399-Gold-Sneakers may win.”

“Moshe, me too. I’d love to take a leak in one of those gold sneakers. It would feel so good.”

“Well, mister smart guy, what can we do to assure that that insurrectionist, killer of women’s rights, rapist clown doesn’t get re-elected?”

“Since, Mr.-I-Don’t-Give-A-Shit-About-Israel-In-Its-Greatest-Time-Of-Need is ordering Republican members of Congress not to vote for aid to Israel, I’ve been doing a lot more thinking about that crooked schmuck. And I came up with a solution, that I’ve called: Join The Anti-Trump Election Countdown Social Media Bombardment Army.”

“That’s a mouthful but it’s catchy. How do I enlist?”

“Well, to join the Bombardment Army you need the following tools or as I like to call them, Weapons of Trump’s Demise (WTD). Now please write this down.”

Moshe removed a Sharpie Fine Point from his shirt’s pocket and a piece of white paper from his brown wallet. “I’m ready, when you are. Shoot away.”

“Get a pen or pencil, a 2024 desk calendar and sit next to your computer. A desktop, laptop or iPhone will do. Now every day, from now to election day, you commit to giving 15 minutes a day to posting, sharing or writing anti-Trump stuff all over the internet. You clock in as if you’re on the job. After your 15 minutes is up, you pat yourself on the back for doing your best to fight for freedom, democracy, decency, truth, NATO, Ukraine, Israel and world peace.”

“You mean that all I have to do is to go on Facebook, X, Twitter, Threads and Instagram and post away like a madman about a madman and I’ve done my part to keep Donnie out of the White House?”

“Exactly.”

“Mort, time is flying by. Before you know it it will be November. I’ll clock in and start sharing, writing and posting tonight. I’ll tell my Facebook friends and the groups I belong to, to join the call. Thousands of people will read my posts. Hopefully,  I’ll get some thumbs up and a lot of shares. Mort, I’ll get a bunch of my friends to join your army. We’ll flood the net, create an electronic deluge and remind everybody how important it is to vote on November 5th. We’ll put 354 million nails in that fraudster’s political coffin.”

AI created picture

Times of Israel bloggers, this blog is for you.

Yes, you 30,000 strong, group of scribblers.

Yes, you guys and gals sitting in front of your laptops scratching your head, hitting the keys and trying to put your thoughts on paper.

While in the back of your head, you’re wondering:

Is anybody reading my stories?

Will any reader comment on my blog?

Why am I doing this?

What do other TOI bloggers think about my craft?

Are they enjoying the themes I write about?

What about my writing style/my prose?

Will I ever be rewarded for all my hard work?

Well, while you’re waiting for those words of praise or even a lukewarm comment, here’s something you can do, in hope of garnishing some praise.

Go to ChatGPT and find out if your writing is appreciated in the world of AI.

In this world of rapidly developing technology you may get lucky.

So go ahead and ask ChatGPT, “Who is the writer (fill in your name?)”

A year ago, I did this and ChatGPT wrote a bunch of incorrect gibberish about me.

I laughed and thought, “AI has a long way to go.”

But I knew, I’d try it again.

Well, twelve months after my first request. I tried again.

Who is the writer Mort Laitner?

ChatGPT quickly responded:

Mort Laitner is an American author and poet. He is known for his works that often explore themes of love, loss, and the human connection. Laitner has published several books of poetry and prose, including “A Hebraic Obsession.”  His writing style is characterized by its emotional depth and introspection. Laitner’s works have garnered praise for their heartfelt expression and keen insight into the human experience.

Now, of course, I love AI.

Who knew AI was so smart.

Now, Mr. or Ms. TOI Blogger it’s your turn.

Give it a try.

What can it hurt?

The worst that can happen is you’ll get some incorrect gibberish or you might get a big serving of love.