We rename things now. Here in godless Portland, a person could buy a house at the intersection of Portland Boulevard and 39th Avenue in 2009, and wake up today to discover she lives at the corner of Rosa Parks and Cesar Chavez. Here’s the very intersection. Sometimes the owners on all four corners go out front to organize themselves, and sit any damn where they want to. We approve of that sort of thing here, which is one reason the President has the National Guard on speed-tweet to send over on a moment’s notice to thump some lefty ass.

Speaking of renaming, he would probably prefer the title President-for-life. A horrifying prospect, but how long can that be? The only thing holding him up is hairspray and the wind whistling through his facial pores. But he’s been busy.

The tallest mountain in North America has been called Denali for about ten thousand years, except for a few minutes after 1896 when someone named it Mount McKinley in order to suck up to the president at the time. Sucking up to a president never really gets old.

“Hey you. Skippy. What kind of stupid name is Denali? African? Isn’t it a big white mountain?”

“For another few years, yes sir.”

“What was wrong with McKinley?”

“Nothing, sir, nothing at all. Great man. People are saying great things. Championed the gold standard.”

“Mmm, gold. Can we re-McKinley it?”

“You can, sir. It was Obama who changed it to Denali.” Skippy ducked as another lunch tray hit the wall. “I’ll put out the press release, sir.” Skippy scurried off, but reported back before the ketchup slid to the floor. “Done deal, sir, it’s McKinley again, and also, Google Maps just signed off on the Gulf of America.”

“I changed my mind. It’s the Golf of America now.”

“Branding, yes sir, very smart. Will there be anything else?”

There was. Each one punctuated by a thrown French fry.

The Panama Canal of America.

Greenland: Ivankastan.

Canada: Even Norther Dakota.

Skippy scribbled furiously.

“And I was thinking about the Grand Old Party. ‘Old.’ I don’t like it. Let’s change it. All the Republicans are in line, right?”

“110%, sir. Lock, stock, and cracker barrel. They bleed orange for you. They’re in the palm of your hand. And a very large hand it is, sir, the largest ever, like no one’s ever seen. It’s your party and you’re the indisputable head, sir.”

“Good. Because I don’t like that elephant either. They live in shithole countries. Also, not big enough. What’s bigger?”

“A whale, sir?”

“A whale. What do you think, Other Skippy?”

Other Skippy snapped to attention. “Elliott, sir.”

“You’re Skippy now. Well?”

“Much larger than an elephant, yes, sir. And some of them eat sharks. A sperm whale, maybe.”

“Sperm whale. I like that. I like that.”

Original Skippy scrambled for primacy. “Sperm whale!” He snapped his fingers. “You could name the party after the greatest sperm whale ever, the Great White Whale! Moby Dick!”

“Great White, huh?”

“I’ll put out the press release, sir.”

“We’ll need a flag. Big white whale. On a big blue field. Long red tie. And make sure it’s spouting.”

“Spouting powerfully, sir!”

It was done. The flag was ready that very evening for the announcement and photo op, with the entire Republican delegation arrayed in uniform in front of the banner, including the congressmen from the states of North and South Lester Maddox. And in center, directly in front of the spout, wearing the scowl of triumph, and standing nearly erect: the Moby Dickhead.