In a shocking development, a midwestern state right in the heartland of America is under attack by hordes of undesirables who have flooded across the border without identification or documentation to kidnap, murder, and commit acts of mayhem. The governor of the state has appealed to the president for help, but has gotten nowhere. There are rumors, in fact, that the president himself is behind the invasion in the first place, having sent in an advance operation of fabrications, deceit, and naked racism to soften the target, followed by a strike force, and later a reserve outfit of crackpot rationales. The invaders have proved to be nimble, supported by a crew of special ops able to instantly deploy slander of the victims for the general news consumption. Residents are horrified. Armed men are roaming the streets; friends and neighbors are being abducted, disappeared, and worse.

The president responded by sending in reinforcements to “combat rampant fraud,” and now the state is anticipating an incursion of 2000 big strong accountants with Kevlar pocket protectors and sharpened assault pencils. It’s a nightmare for the citizenry. How could it have come to this?

Well. It all started with little Donnie and his big hole.

Donnie has always had a big hole. He has been trying to fill it up for eighty years. He has tried to fill it with money, and with fame, and with all-purpose self-aggrandizing bullshit, but still he couldn’t see the bottom of his big hole.

But when little Donnie grew up, in a vertical sense, he made a new pal, Big Vlad. Finally, thought little Donnie, someone has seen him for the man he truly is! He felt vladiated. Little Donnie wanted to be just like him, so he could fill his big hole at last. He gave Big Vlad his number. But Big Vlad already had his number.

Big Vlad wasn’t all that big. He was sort of little. But he declared himself big, and thus it was so. Donnie thought he could do some declaring too. He declared this. He declared that. He solved this. He fixed that. He said so. And thus it was so.

Big Vlad decided he wanted to add another country to his collection, so he invaded it. But it was more of a struggle than he anticipated, and for a long time he only managed to dent it up a little. Little Donnie was on his side, though, and did his very best to help. After all, everything about the venture made righteous sense to him. His buddy should have that country he wanted because (A) he wanted it, and (B) he could take it. Ipso fucto.

Little Donnie felt empowered. This was the justice system he had adhered to his whole life. If you wanted something, and you could just take it, that meant you were meant to have it. You earned it. It could apply to anything from a fancy performing arts center, to the presidency itself, to the unfortunate woman seated next to you on the plane. If you want it, and you can take it, it should be yours. It’s all about filling the big hole. But poor little Donnie was never able to fill the big hole. He even tried invading much younger females with weaker defenses and smaller holes, but he wasn’t even able to fill the small holes.

That made little Donnie angry.

Meanwhile, Big Vlad was having some trouble with his conquest. And little Donnie decided what would really fill his hole was a big old peace prize. He did some declaring. After declaring the president of Vlad’s target country a war criminal for offering up so many citizens for Big Vlad to kill, he declared he would end that war and collect his trophy. It would be that easy.

And it could be! Both in the case of Vlad’s invasion and in the war in the fraud-ridden state of North You-Betcha, peace could be restored instantly, by withdrawing the aggressors. But Big Vlad really wanted his territory so he could invade neighboring territories. And here in the States, withdrawing the aggressors would mean disappointing little Donnie’s own recruits, drawn from the ranks of young disaffected snowflake-white men, a.k.a. his base. And he did not want to do that. He would be okay with abandoning them altogether, and he will in time, but he might still need them as his shadow army and possibly for one last election.

So on it goes. And still, all the money and all the flattery and all the golden frippery isn’t enough to fill little Donnie’s big hole. All his efforts have only made the hole bigger. And now he has to fill it with the bodies of Democrats, freedom fighters, homeless veterans, bombed-out Gazans, Venezuelan fishermen, unvaccinated children, polar bears, the queer, the starving, the sick, the MAGA faithful, and the rest of the 98%, and it still won’t be enough.

We have a mighty big problem. Little Donnie has a mighty big hole.