The Night Obama Fired Donald Trump and Slew Osama bin Laden

By , Contributor

Sunday, May 1st -- it was about 10:30 Eastern Daylight Time and two men were dealing with the truly important ramifications of their jobs.

Donald Trump, the third person spewing work of art who we all know is rich because he tells us every thirty seconds, was on NBC burnishing his future presidential run, by announcing that he had forgiven and rehired fellow wack job, La Toya Jackson. According to Trump, this was a one-time presidential edict for the good of the nation, you know, like the time Gerald Ford pardoned Richard Nixon.

The Donald was about to get to use his catch phrase, when suddenly like a prayer from on high, President Barack Obama lowered the his third and most impressive smackdown on the Prince of Ego in less than a week. The real president had fired Osama Bin Laden permanently, and for good measure, he pre-empted Celebrity Apprentice to share the good news.

It's probably petty to think of Trump when everybody and their sister are screaming "USA" over and over again. Being the last, best hope for freedom and democracy can be such an onerous burden that it just felt really good to be like Francis Sawyer in the movie Stripes: "All I know, is that I finally get to kill somebody."

Finally, a righteous kill for our side! People were so happy that many conservatives were giving credit to George W. Bush, who though he never got to issue the kill shot order, at least was decisive enough to issue the "Wanted: Dead or Alive" edict from some outdoor retreat some years ago in Texas.

Trump? Oh no, somebody had not only put baby in the corner, but they'd turned his chair around and made him face it too.

Donald Trump is a con man, a bunko artist. He is now, and he always has been. Like his father, he took advantage of political graft to build his wealth. Unlike his father he didn't keep quiet about it. Trump built his celebrity in the late stages of the "it sure is cool to be rich" Reagan '80s. Smart rich people at the time knew that it was tacky to celebrate their good fortune, often dwelling on their more charitable impulses. Joseph Kennedy, for one, had moved his sons away from the family bootlegging and stock-fixing business and into public service, sort of like Michael Corleone, when he decided to take his family "legitimate."

Trump was different. Trump was and remains the definition of a good sound bite, and what he had to say was always "Can you believe how smart I am? I must be, after all I'm rich!" And how did we know that Donald was rich? Well, he had told us so over and over and over and over again, until even supposedly well informed bankers were lining up around the block to lend this airbag buffoon money. Fortunes were lost, while Trump took refuge in the following paraphrased notion. "If you owe the banks thousands of dollars, you're in trouble, but if you owe the banks hundreds of millions of dollars, the banks are in trouble!"

Trump survived and his ego just got bigger. Not only was he still rich, he was a billionaire! How did we know that? Well, because Donald told us - over and over and over and over and over again.

Whenever there was a problem and a microphone, Donald Trump was there to lend his expert advice. Why is the country in such trouble? Well, it's because "successful" business men like me aren't around to run it! Why is Rosie O'Donnell a political no nothing neophyte? It must be because she's so fat and unattractive! "Am I the only one who sees this?"

Trump's ego became so bloated that he started to believe his own press clippings. The man who couldn't even make money in the gaming industry started mouthing off about how he'd send China and their U.S. Treasury Bonds back to the 18th Century where they belonged. How? "Because I'm Donald Trump!" The man might fail, but the brand? Never!

I've long been amazed by Trump. How could it be that Jerry Seinfeld, Robert De Niro and I were the only ones that could see that the emperor's new clothes were nothing but tacky castoffs marked up for simpleton consumption with the ever present, never failing (even in the throes of frequent bankruptcies) Trump logo?

This week, this glorious week the other shoe finally dropped. Keith Olbermann may not be around to label him the new worst person in the world, but thankfully, Donald Trump just had "the worst week ever."

In what seemed like a coup at the time, the Donald actually got the President to send somebody to Hawaii and release that birth certificate. Sadly, for Trump, it was real. Sadly, for Trump, he wasn't as smart as fellow birther nut Victoria Jackson. Jackson moved on and started attacking Glee. Trump went to Saturday's White House Correspondents dinner. Not only did he attend, but somewhere in that rat trap of a mind of his I think he really thought that he'd be applauded for what he'd done for his nation of apprentices. It didn't work out that way.

Trump did his callow best to laugh off a couple of jibes from the sitting president that he'd been assailing with nonsense for the past month or so, but when Seth Meyers got to the stand the real Donald was forced to take the onslaught head on.

Starting with,"Trump has said he's running for president as a Republican, which is surprising because I thought he was running as a joke," Meyers let fly with a machine gun torrent of Trump material like he was Billy Crystal hosting the Oscars and Jack Palance had just done some one-armed pushups.

Trump was not amused. He lost his composure. His eyes stared out into space looking with vitriol at the big boy club that he was suddenly not being toasted by. "Don't they know who I am? I'm Donald Trump!"

The gas bag had been pricked and the air was rapidly leaking from the human sound bite. The best he could do was mutter publically that Myers' delivery made him sound something like a stutterer (hilariously enraging stuttering groups in the process).

And then Sunday night happened and the gas bag imploded, but the press wasn't there to see it. Somewhere Donald Trump was parsing advice on leadership to heavy hitters Meat Loaf, Lil Jon, and Star Jones, but it was no longer being aired by NBC. Barack Obama had pulled Osama Bin Laden out of a hat. He'd replaced talk with action. He pre-empted the Donald's game show with real news.  

In ten years, the fact that Bin Laden's death had trumped a viewing of Celebrity Apprentice will be, along with its bloated self-important host, a trivial blip in history, but today while everyone is smiling at the death of a terrorist, I can't help but smile at the comeuppance of a fool.

Donald Trump - You're fired.

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Brad Laidman has been a freelance writer since 2000. His work has appeared in Film Threat, Perfect Sound Forever, and Rock and Rap Confidential. His defense of The Kinks' Dave Davies so moved the legendary guitarist that Davies labeled Brad his hero and he has the email to prove it.

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