And it went great. Stephanie Grisham, the shadow press secretary (if there were a press secretary, she would be that, but there haven’t been any press conferences yet) confirmed to Fox News that he is “healthy as can be. I put a statement out about that. He’s got more energy than anybody in the White House. That man works from 6 a.m. until, you know, very, very late at night. He’s doing just fine.”
Just to be certain that this was definitely a thing, I telephoned my primary care physician today and asked whether I could come in and do half my physical now and half later at a time of my own choosing, and amazingly she did not immediately clear a path for me, and furthermore I think my relationship with her receptionist may be permanently strained.
“Could you see me sooner if I just did half of it and then the other half later?” I asked, and the scheduler patiently began to explain that unfortunately this was not and had never been how physicals worked.
But just because my primary care physician was unaware that this was how things worked, that does not mean that Donald Trump is not aware. He just wanted to see half of what was wrong (nothing), and he will go back later when he has a free moment. He did the important half of the physical — the doctor banged his knee with the tiny hammer but did not check to see whether it made his leg kick, took his systolic but not his diastolic blood pressure, measured half his height, and discovered that he weighs just slightly over 120 pounds! That all seems great. The results are back, and half of him is 100 percent fine!
President Trump is healthy as a horse, or half a horse, a centaur. He is fit as a fiddle, a fiddle that has been attending regular SoulCycle classes. He is probably exactly as fit as a Stradivarius — not to say that he is very old and could shatter at any second, but that he is very valuable and was constructed by a master.
His being is so well that he cannot be examined directly or his results will ruin all the hospital equipment. Before, it was thought that the only way it would be possible to examine him was to have a doctor willing to take his great health on faith, but then Donald Trump realized (he has a great brain) that maybe they could do it in phases, a little bit at a time, so as not to overwhelm them with his glory. It was a great breakthrough, like the discovery that you could stare at an eclipse through a paper plate (Donald Trump does not need this protection, but it helps most people), and he decided to implement it immediately.
Although when Hillary Clinton coughed, ever, it meant that she was at the brink of death (this is medical science; her humors were out of balance, and her womb was roving through her body), Donald Trump’s sudden decision to just go to visit a doctor and do half his annual physical is not cause for concern. His word is good. He has as many white blood cells as he had people at his inauguration, and his blood pressure is as low as his poll numbers aren’t. He would never lie to us about something important. His tax returns are actually just a picture of his pancreas — an organ so beautiful that if he ever let us see it, the whole nation would lose its mind.
I am only half concerned.
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