America has two oceans, but apparently neither has been introduced to the president. At Saturday’s rally in Clarksville, Tennessee, Donald Trump announced, “Before I get out, I think we should have an ocean,” then floated renaming either the Atlantic or Pacific “Trump Ocean” or “Ocean of the Americas.” It was a suggestion, although an extraordinary one to hear from a man whose country already has an ocean on each side to help keep him from getting confused.
Donald, honey, those are the big wet things at the ends of America. If you’re driving and the car becomes a submarine, you’ve found one. I live in coastal Oregon, so I can personally confirm the Pacific is there. I’ve seen it. It appears quite committed to the arrangement and nobody has approached me at the beach to explain that we’re renting it until the president finds us something permanent.
But perhaps he means we should have an ocean with his name on it, which would explain the confusion. To most people, the Pacific is an ocean. To Donald Trump, it is an enormous missed opportunity to install gold lettering. Somewhere, an aide is trying to calculate how many maintenance workers it would take to attach a T to a wave.
You almost have to admire the ambition. Most people look at the sea and feel small. Donald Trump looks at the sea and wonders why the signage is so shit.
This is a body of water that covers roughly a third of the planet, and somehow it’s spent all these years operating without a man from Queens claiming he improved it. Imagine the relief among marine biologists when they discover the president has finally addressed the ocean’s most urgent problem: brand recognition.
The imaginary sales brochure practically writes itself. Beautiful ocean. Tremendous depth. Some people say too much depth, but we like depth. Very exclusive. Japan on one side, America on the other. Excellent frontage. Whales included, although we’re reviewing the whales. Big animals. Eat constantly. Nobody knows what they do.
Of course, renaming an ocean presents certain logistical difficulties. The other countries around it may have opinions, for example, and the ocean itself has a notoriously poor record of obeying instructions. You can put whatever you like on the map, but the tide will still come in at an inconvenient time and ruin your shoes. I would pay actual money to watch someone explain that to him.
Imagine the first presidential confrontation with a rip current. He would accuse it of being funded by George Soros, announce that it had apologized privately, and then spend three weeks complaining that the lifeguard received too much credit.
Meanwhile, the Pacific would continue doing what it has always done, which is being enormous and salty without requiring a communications director.
At the same rally, Trump offered a remarkably useful explanation of how we arrived at the point where the president is shopping for an ocean.
“I could say the stupidest things and you’d clap,” he told the audience.
They laughed and clapped.
He then clarified: “But we don’t say the stupidest things. We say things of common sense.”
Well, thank goodness we cleared that up before anyone accidentally inspected the sentence.
There is something almost scientifically beautiful about telling a room full of people that they will applaud stupidity and having them immediately provide the supporting data. Usually you have to recruit participants, obtain consent, and spend months chasing a grant. He got the whole study done standing up.
I’m trying to imagine this dynamic in any other profession. Your surgeon walks into the consultation and says he could suggest the stupidest operation imaginable and you’d agree, so you begin enthusiastically signing forms. Your contractor announces that you’ll pay him regardless of whether the roof exists, and you rush to fetch your checkbook. By the end of the appointment, your kidneys have been renamed Eric and your house has an ocean.
And yes, people can laugh at a joke. The funny part here is that the man teasing his audience about applauding anything was also floating the idea of personalizing the Pacific. At some point, the crowd needs an agreed signal for when the bit has become a procurement request. Perhaps a small bell. Otherwise, an aide will be standing on a beach at dawn, holding a tape measure and wondering whether the squid are going to be difficult about zoning.
That’s the problem with unconditional applause. Eventually, somebody has to explain to the fish why their address has changed. For now, the ocean proposal remains a proposal. The Pacific is still outside my town, conducting itself with considerably more dignity than anyone who wants to put his name on it.
Should the administration require feedback, however, I recommend sending the president to the beach. Let him explain the plan directly to the water and wait for its response. The waves will clap. Unfortunately, he’ll take that as approval.
Wonderful! Thank you for a good, much-needed laugh.
Maybe add to the dead sea