This story was written by Tristan Motz, age 20. He is a graduate of Marshall High School in Vienna, VA and a student at Longwood University in Farmville, VA. Longwood University will be the site of this year’s only vice presidential debate in October. LibertyPell is publishing Tristan’s article about 10 months ahead of the debate to give whichever lamebrains find their way on to that stage plenty of time to prepare for the incisive questions Tristan would fire at them. LibertyPell is much comforted that the world is in excellent hands if Tristan Motz is reflective of the current generation of college students. Take that you safe-space Yale whiners.
Here is Tristan with his father, John, and his mother, Anne. Please keep them in your thoughts and prayers this weekend when the Washington Redskins play the Green Bay Packers in the first round of the NFL playoffs. The Motz family strongly favors the Packers over the hometown Redskins. A solid record of going against the grain.
Over to you Tristan Motz for “Pastryatism” with not a single comma changed.
On a day like any other, people began to make their ways to the polls. Everyone came with their own preconceptions of what they were looking for in a presidential candidate. Each candidate looked different. One was an old sour woman who liked to play pretend and foreign policy, while the other was a creepy old man who was wealthier than God, but still couldn’t afford the costly surgery to remove his foot from his mouth. The two couldn’t seem more different; they ran for separate parties, but on the inside (where it counted) they were exactly the same.
Voters arrived at their designated poll locations hoping that they could place their statistically worthless votes in their pre-decided party quickly so that they could make it home in time to binge on Netflix before they went to bed. Everything was exactly as expected. The rooms were sad and dull. The hallways, dreary and quiet. Outside, sad stay-at-home moms stood and berated voters, in hopes that if they annoyed them enough, they would vote for the proper side.
Only one discrepancy existed in the polling stations that day, and it occurred on each and every voter’s ballot. The rich man and false woman were there with their boxes adjacent. Even the strange third party candidates had their spot. But, at the very bottom of the page lay a queer, interesting, and perfectly uncalled for name. It was simple and honest. It told the voters in two words who they were voting for, what that candidate stood for, and exactly what was inside them. It brought happiness and joy, and gave people hope. The name was Jelly Donut.
The day went by quickly, and stressfully for many people without lives. The statistics jumped and dove, but by the end of the day a sad old women and a grumpy old man were left un-victorious as America elected its first candidate without a party. Its first candidate without a platform. And even its first candidate without any supporters, benefactors, or campaign strategy. It was this day that the American voters chose a jelly filled pastry to run the most powerful country in the world, over two fully qualified and falsified candidates.
A silent confusion blanketed the country for days. Everyone looked around wondering how such a thing could have happened. Many speculated that it was a conspiracy, so the entire system was inspected from top to bottom. Once the inspection yielded no results, it was only left to conclude that the voters had secretly banded together to jam up the system that no one seemed content with.
News programs took to the streets and began interviewing anyone of voting age they could get their hands on. The interviewers berated their victims with the same two questions.
“Did you vote for Jelly Donut?” and “Why”,
It didn’t matter what race, age, or religion the interviewee was. For once, everyone responded the same.
“Yes. I just thought it was funny. What would one vote matter anyway?”
The response to this new found truth was chaotic. The voters who marked the donut box all pointed and yelled at each other, because it was obviously everyone else’s job to vote seriously. After all, one person couldn’t be held responsible for an entire election. Shouting matches ensued over various social media network and news stations. Even the newspapers took up the story, but they were only used to dry the tears of the few bipartisan voters who were still wondering where it all went wrong.
Everyone was so caught up in their blaming and crying, that inauguration day came almost by surprise. Before everyone knew it, they were sitting in front of their TVs, watching as a powdered white donut was placed on a bible and pronounced the President of the United States of America.
It wasn’t long before the American public threw their support behind their newly elected leader. It seemed that they had finally realized their role in the electing process, and now felt a largely unproportionate sense of pride about their quadrennial accomplishment. The words Jelly Donut became synonymous with America, and the citizens’ love for their President flowed all across the continent. Jelly Donut’s twitter page surpassed that of Katy Perry, clocking in at over one million followers. Schools were filled with kids wearing Jelly Donut T-shirts. Tours of the White House rose exponentially, and tourism into the United States nearly doubled. The internet was soon full of Jelly Donut memes including sayings such as “Keep Calm and Jelly On” or “Jelly Don-Wat?”
Jelly Donut became a global icon, stretching all the way from overpopulated slums in India, to small Amazonian pigmy tribes who didn’t know what a donut was, only that they were round and they ruled the free world. The attention and interest caused by Jelly Donut prompted an immediate spike in American trade with foreign countries, which boosted the world economy into an economic boom. Even America’s enemies seemed to become more docile, because no one could think of a donut as a threat under any circumstance, so they too joined into the prosperity.
Under this new reign, American Culture and business thrived. No one seemed to question the fact that their ruler was a donut, and the few that opposed Jelly’s presidency were simply deemed Nazi racists and were shunned from society. Everyone was happy.
Eight months into the new presidency, the country began to slow down. People went back to their normal routines, and political discussions were left, once again, to the people who like to talk louder than everyone else in order to feel smarter, and less like the failures that their mothers always insisted they would be. Newspapers went back to being toilet paper for the homeless. News channels and broadcasters returned to arguing over what holiday plans were best. The internet went back to being a reassuring source to young people that their bodies don’t really look that abnormal, and that there are plenty of healthy career options for the aesthetically handicapped.
Soon, it was announced that President Jelly Donut was to give his first official speech since he took office. Once again, all sources of media reverted to speculation. People wondered who would be the official interpreter for Jelly Donut or if there would be any interpreter at all. In short, nobody knew what to expect.
When the day came for the president’s speech, Washington DC was filled to capacity. People had swarmed in from all across the country to see the donut they picked for president address his nation. The presidential podium was set out in front of the Lincoln memorial, looking out onto the reflecting pool that was surrounded by excited citizens. The sun shone directly overhead and the clouds moved along slowly from the push of a slight breeze. A hush fell over the crowed as politicians, and men in uniform began to line up behind the podium. The first lady, a stunning croissant, was placed in a chair just to the right of the podium alongside a dozen of her children. Finally, a small man walked out, holding the president delicately in his hands. The man was known for being a leading libertarian politician, and he was a strong supporter of everything that Jelly Donut did in his domestic policy. He slowly rested the president on the podium surrounded by microphones and said in a shaky voice that was trying not to laugh.
“It is my pleasure to present to you the President of the United States of America!”
Applause and cheers roared from the crowed and the mall shook with excitement. The cheering went on for a short while before the crowed realized that they had no idea what they were expecting to happen. The shouting and clapping went down to quiet murmurs and then complete silence. All eyes were on the powdery donut on the podium in front of them.
“My fellow Americans” A Deep, strong voice rang out across the reflecting pool all the way to the Washington monument. The only person without a look of complete awe on their face was the libertarian, but that was because he had just returned from a riveting conversation with a bag of Doritos, and was now contemplating whether anyone would notice if he were to take a bite from the first lady. “It has been an amazing 8 months serving you, as your president.” The same voice spoke again, but this time it was punctuated with a roar from the crowed that could only be described as deafening. Many would later describe the rest of the speech as a series of profound murmurs and ringing sounds, but those who escaped the early symptoms of tinnitus heard this:
“There has never been a more happy nor proud donut in all of existence, so I would like to begin by thanking you. You, the people, have made me something more than any donut before me could have dreamed, and for that, I can never repay you. My only regret now, is that there seems to be a misunderstanding in this nation as to where the source of our success has been. Many have stated that I am the source, but they are sorely mistaken. The only thing that I can be credited for doing is allowing you to exercise your own self-interests, and to act amongst yourselves in a manner that is both mutually and independently beneficial. I was solely the conduit for your successes. You elected me as a sign of trust. A sign that said, you were done with the old system, and were ready for a change. You needed me, a Jelly Donut, to reinstall the people’s power in government, and I have done this. You needed me, a Jelly Donut, to emphasize the corruption and inefficiency that exist in your politicians, and I have done this. So now, it is with a heavy jelly filling that I say that you no longer need me. I leave you to govern yourselves, just as our founding bakers wanted. Work for yourselves and not the government. Pursue success, and you will truly be free.”
Just as the last word was spoken, a bald eagle swooped down and landed on the podium. It grasped Jelly Donut in its large talons, and sprung off towards the Washington monument. The crowed was aghast by the powerful speech and surprising ending. Some people screamed in terror, while others simply watched in amazement as the glorious eagle soared overhead, dripping red jelly on the faces below.
Just as the eagle reached half way between the Lincoln memorial and the Washington monument, a secret serviceman on a nearby rooftop was woken up by the shouting. He had been out all weekend duck hunting, and hadn’t caught up on his sleep until just then. Looking at the faces in the crowed he saw where all the attention was pointed and who was at risk. He instinctively aimed his sights and shot the avian terrorist, before it could escape with a single ounce of American pastry.
The bird and donut exploded into a cloud of feathers, powdered sugar, blood, and jelly, coming to an anticlimactic splash in the shallow reflecting pool. In a tumultuous uproar, the crowed surged its way into the pool towards where the carcasses had landed. The first people to make it began a horrific frenzy, fighting over scraps of bird and soggy donut until the two were almost indistinguishable. Everyone wanted a piece of something, but not everyone made it. Twenty seven people, one eagle, a cocker spaniel, and a donut died in the reflecting pool that day. And so began a new era of the American dream.