Herbs and Hating in Jackson, Mississippi

The secret tab marking the entrance to this bunker. 

The secret tab marking the entrance to this bunker. 

The Situation Room: Deep Underground


They meet deep underground Jackson, Mississippi, because it’s reasonably located between Florida and Austin, Texas, and for some God forsaken reason, Donald Trump likes it here. I was crawling through the maze of lizardman tunnels and secret underground fracking zones when I found them, screaming at one another in a government bunker.

“Goddamnit, Alex, these things are amazing!” I heard a voice, a voice from the pile of crushed up pills, a voice like listening to spit sizzle on a hot sidewalk in a part of Manhattan I couldn’t afford to visit. It was a voice smeared into a nose-sized cone of dust, a whine on the surface of the desk.

The voice belonged to the 45th President of the United States, the 75th Shadow President, the 33rd Double Secret President, the billionaire, the flim-flam artist, Donald J (the J stands for “Jonald”) Trump. The pile of crushed up pills belonged to Alex Jones, a REAL HUMAN BEING with REAL HUMAN EMOTIONS. The desk belonged to the secret part of the United States Government, the Secret Secret Service, that maintained voluminous underground bunkers for reasons that the President can only guess at. The things scattered on the desk were three pens, one unbuttoned khaki T-shirt, and a daily planning blotter that had been knocked askew into pill dust.

I was cataloging everything. They didn’t seem to notice me as I walked casually through the madness. The clipboard with a map and sunglasses I was wearing seemed to mollify them.

“That is selenium!” Alex Jones shouted, struggling, red in the face with his shirt, trying to rip it off. “You’re snortin’ selenium, President Trump! Snorting selenium that we FOUND IN THE DIRT! The DIRT! God’s DIRT! Through the miracle of science, we turned it into PILLS!”

Alex grew louder and louder, veins bulging in his neck, screaming at the T-shirt. “I am a real human being! I love my wife! I love GOD! Get this fucking shirt off me!” He continued screaming at the shirt as I angled up to the President’s desk to pour myself shots of tequila and be ignored.

“What is this stuff, Alex? It’s the best. Goddamn it’s good. Yes. The fucking best!” Donald said, the speech punctuated by his nodding head, staring at something we couldn’t see. He obviously hadn't heard the explanation, or perhaps, I noted, Alex Jones sometimes just ranted about selenium spontaneously. 

I saw the sweat beading up on his forehead, saw his nostrils flaring. Red and orange splotches grew on his skin. “We gotta get this and sell it to people, Alex. It’ll change their lives. They’ll fucking love it, Alex!” he got louder and louder. Jones stopped when he heard him, then stared with his bulging eyes at the President, one eyebrow twitching.

“One step ahead of you, Donald! It’s natural! Do you hear me? It’s natural! All natural! All great things come from the Earth, Donald! Everything we ever needed! It's in Brazil Nuts! Brazil nuts, and the sheeple keep eating almonds when they should be eating Brazil nuts and fucking selenium and BRAIN FORCE PLUS!” He had the shirt off now, was screaming at it in a rage that reddened his face, made it like a bright blister.

“Brazil? Where’s that?” Trump asked me. I pointed at the map. “Holy shit! Mexico! Yeah, Mexico! This Brazil! This shit’s in Mexico! We gotta get Brazil. We are going to invade Brazil, Alex! We are going to…”

Trump faded off as Alex erupted in, somehow, an even greater rage.

“Damnit, Donald, you’re channeling lower dimensional beings here! War minds from the void, from under the Earth, from a realm of fire and brimstone and sulphur and pain! And…” Alex was shouting, trying to tear the khaki shirt, grunting and howling like a wild beast.

"That's how they sound, Donald! The demons!" He wailed and rolled his head about, eyes rolled back in his head. 

“Besides it’s made with mustard seeds! Faith like a MUSTARD SEED LOADED WITH SELENIUM!” Jones screamed, pouring Bio-True Selenium directly into his mouth.

“Whoa, what happens if you snort Brain Force Plus?” Donald asked, grabbing a bottle and squinting his jumping eyes at the small print. “A neurological tonic with.. Ayruvedic …. Choline? Alpha GPC?”

In a moment of blind and startled patriotism I found myself snorting the line of Brain Force Plus to save the President from doing it himself.

“Flip the switch, baby! Supercharge your mind!” Alex Jones yelled as President Trump downed fistfull after fistfull of Brain Force Plus, washing it down with expensive champagne and cheap tequila.

“Ahhh fuck, all I see is families being turned away from my towers, Alex! The towers.. The twin towers… America, turned away, nothing but backs, I can’t see their eyes, Alex, what’s in this stuff, for the love of God I can’t see their eyes!”

“The trip’s gone bad!” I shouted at Alex Jones, who was twisting and writhing in his chair, tugging the khaki shirt into increasingly tense knots and lines, the strain in his arms visible, fingers digging into the cloth. "We gotta get him somewhere calm! Don't let him on Twitter!"

“I LOVE GOD!” Alex shouted, pounding the desk. “They don’t want you to love God! See! SEE! You gotta have good eyes, Donald! You’ll never be able to spot them! The shapeshifters!”

Donald Trump jumped up, knocking the bottle of tequila to the floor as he shoved me away, snatching the clipboard map from my hands, shoving the map into his mouth. "I eat the world, Alex! The world!"

“They’re killers, Donald! Killers in the See-Eye-Fucking-Aey! It’s right in the name, Donald! See-Eye! Seeing Eye! The eye in the pyramid! I can see that shit, that’s for sure, oh man, can you see it, Donald?”

Alex saw it everywhere, and as the Brain Force Plus kicked in, I could see it too, on the knobs of the equipment in the bunker, in the angles that the wires came into the boxes and panels. I saw it bleeding through the surface of the blotches on Steve Bannon’s lifeless skin.

“What the hell is he doing here?!” Trump shrieked. I jumped, recoiled, thought I’d been found out, but he was pointing at Steve Bannon.

“How could you not see him?” Alex yelled back, throwing handfuls of OCCU POWER pills toward the President of the United States. “Take these! Take all of them! They’ll fix your eyes! You can see what the eye in the pyramid sees, Trump!”

Trump gulped them down and shouted at me to bring them more tequila. As I came back from the ice-chest I could hear him.

“Now I see the skinwalkers! Oh shit this is bad, Alex. We gotta fight a war against someone who could be anything! Anyone! Why is Steve still here? Why are you still here, Steve?”

Steve Bannon’s bloodshot eyes opened onto the scene, the streaks and curls of the veins in his face drew me in for a vertiginous moment of stupifaction before his face snatched back in horror.

“SHIT! ALEX! DONNY! WHAT THE!” He shrieked, gurgling on the last bit of his terror as Alex Jones scampered in an oscillating path across the bunker. He tackled Bannon in a cascade of knit and oil that arced into a broken couch.

“It’s him!” Steve Bannon was struggling and pointing at me. “He’s come through time from the past to stop us! It’s me before the hate and the booze and he’s going to kill himself and I’ll cease to exist!”

I backed away as Donald Trump screamed, thinking he had his hands on Bannon’s throat. He had him by the collarbone, but he was starting to squeeze.

“It’s the occu-power!” I shouted, just then realizing the pun. I doubled over, throwing a galaxy of herbal supplements to the floor with the broken bottle of tequila.

“Shut up about the occu-power! Bannon needs the Liver Shield!”

“His liver! He’s me!” Bannon was hoarse, wild-eyed, blood streaked on his face. “Give me his liver! No more liver shield! Blood! Blood!”

“Oh so now you need blood?!” Trump laughed, pouring a vial labeled “Secret 12” into his gaping maw. “Fucking adenosylcobalamin!” He laughed, reading the label. “How’d I read it the first time, Alex? It’s that brain stuff working! The brain stuff is working! I’m gonna have the best brain, Alex! The best!”

“I need blood!” Bannon growled, throwing Alex Jones off him and rolling in the shattered glass of the tequila, licking it off the ground.

“Give him the liver shield, Alex! Give it to him! Big baby needs the shield for his big fat liver!” President Trump said, spinning around in his chair. He spun over and over, it was clear he didn’t care if Steve got the advanced liver protection of Liver Shield or not.

Now I was screaming, the Brain Force Plus and the Occu-Power and the bottle of something called DNA-Force wasn't helping at all. “Goddamnit you flaxen-scabbed monstrosity, the man needs to know! His liver’s toxic! It’s like a bomb, a bomb primed with old oily rags and shoreline moonshine! A bomb that could take us all out in a heartbeat, you fucking lunatic!”

Bannon rolled to and fro, hands on his sides, laughing. “I told you he’s me! He’s come from the past to stop us all, Donald!”

Alex muttered a bit then jumped to his feet. “Toxic shit in the food supply. Drugs…PHARMACEUTICAL DRUGS!” Alex Jones screamed, landing a solid blow across Bannon’s cheek.

The scene was getting bad. Bannon wanted my liver, and they were now all funneling big bottles of Super Male Vitality.

“This is the stuff! This is the good shit, Donald!” Alex was pacing as I started to drink the bottle in front of me. It tasted of patriotism and victory and I heard the sky-piercing call of a red tailed hawk when it hit my tongue.

“This is it! The superior vitality! This is what gets me through the day. The twelve hour days, Donald, the fight for freedom, it’s all thanks to THIS!” He was red, screaming, in a rage. The elevator panel lit up, the three went quiet.

“He’s on his way down.”

“Who?” I asked, snorting a giant line of the “Wake Up America: Patriot Blend Coffee.

“Phil Bryant!” Donald Trump said, the first time I’d heard anyone happily say those words. I backed away from the elevator, sliding into a back panel that had led me there in the first place, bottles of Super Male Vitality pocketed in order to give me the drive and focus to climb through the labyrinthine tunnels to the surface world.

Phil Bryant would have been too much. Soldiering through the twisted visions given by 38 different herbal extracts and the pound of selenium in my bloodstream, I began the arduous crawl to freedom, just to tell you this story.

I can only hope that you believe me.