While America mourned its fallen, El Douche declared it Festivus. A holiday for grievance airing, celebrated not with solemn wreaths or folded flags, but with slurred insults, swinging clubs, and selfies with the damned. This Memorial Day, the orange phantom of American failure ghosted Bedminster’s manicured greens like a bloated poltergeist, red-capped, dead-eyed, and drunk on his spoiled mythology.
His Truth Social tantrum—calling President Biden “scum” and dragging federal judges into his psychic sewer—landed like a flaming sack on the tombstones of soldiers who never made it home. The man could politicize a eulogy. Could hawk a Trump steak at a funeral. While the rest of the nation laid flowers, he laid into the Constitution like a vulture picking over the corpse of democracy.
Eyes puffy like two puffballs soaked in vinegar. A mouth that moves in permanent complaint. Fingers curled as if still clutching some half-chewed cheeseburger from 3 a.m. The man, reportedly upright, but spiritually decomposing.
And let’s talk about the real offence—golf.
El Douche, self-proclaimed 2.8 handicap. That’s right—2.8, which is about as believable as him passing a lie detector or hugging a Black toddler without recoiling. The man cheats more than a televangelist at tax time. Mulligans? He takes ‘em like Tic Tacs. He’s the only man who birdies every hole on a course shaped like a dollar sign.
And he bills you for the privilege—over $30 million in taxpayer dollars have evaporated into the sand traps and gold fixtures of his resort getaways. Memorial Day included. The only war Trump has ever fought was the one against his swing plane and reality.
But how does the Commander-in-Cheat stack up against past presidents who could finish 18 holes without kicking their ball out of the bunker?
Dwight D. Eisenhower
Handicap: 14–18
Golf Legacy: Installed a putting green at the White House. Played more than 800 rounds. Augusta even named a tree after him.
Presidential Swing: Steady, disciplined, and never tried to sell you a vodka brand mid-round.
John F. Kennedy
Handicap: 7–10
Grace Factor: The man had a backswing like Sinatra had phrasing—smooth, understated, all class.
Trivia: Hid his game to avoid elitism optics. Trump wears his clubs like jewelry.
Donald J. Trump
Claimed Handicap: 2.8
Reality: Somewhere between delusional and DQ’d.
Legacy: Star of Rick Reilly’s Commander in Cheat, human sand trap, spiritual successor to Caddyshack's Judge Smails.
Barack Obama
Handicap: 13–18
Approach: Cool and calculated. Never bragged about aces he never hit.
Presidential Use: An escape. A gathering place for advisors. Not a branding opportunity.
Bill Clinton
Handicap: 15–20
Signature Move: The "Billigan." You know—mulligans, but with more charisma and less concern for the rules.
Style: Campaign charm in golf shoes.
George H.W. Bush
Handicap: Around 11
Speed Demon: Played 18 holes in under two hours.
Legacy: The real deal. Patriot golfer, no time for peacocks.
George W. Bush
Handicap: 15
Stopped Playing: After 9/11, out of respect. Let that sink in.
Honorable Mentions
Woodrow Wilson: Played over 1,000 rounds but couldn’t putt to save Versailles.
Nixon: Played, but preferred bowling—more pins to knock down than enemies to pardon.
Joe Biden: More Peloton and biking. Less likely to tee up while the world burns.
In the theatre of the absurd that is 2025, El Douche stands not as a symbol of strength or sport, but of self-parody: a sweaty, winded scarecrow chasing Titleists and ghosts of indictments past.
History will remember. And if it forgets, we’ll remind it.
Because someday, when little Johnny Trumpkins asks what Grandpa did in the great war for America’s soul, the answer will echo off the empty walls of a silent clubhouse:
“He lied. He golfed. He cost us everything.”
People have to face horror and shove it to memory.
What is it with golf? Why does it seem that a President has to play golf as evidenced by the list in the essay? Why would anyone want to do something that makes them mad at themselves unless they cheat at it? In that regard it's the perfect game for the orange convict.