Dump's 'Night of Camp Syphilis'
Reality adds some frightening new tweaks to a 1965 novel of presidential insanity.
January 7, 2025—the day when political satire wrote itself, and Donald Dipshit Dump’s Mar-a-Lardo press conference reminded the world reality can outpace even the wildest fiction.
With a delivery as smooth as a cat on a Roomba, Dump, an adjudicated sex pest and convicted felon, laid out an imperialist agenda so outrageous it could make Fletcher Knebel’s 1965 fictional President Hollenbach from Night of Camp David look downright grounded. For those unfamiliar, Night of Camp David posed the chilling question: “What if the President of the United States went stark-raving mad?” Little did Knebel know his speculative fiction would one day be eclipsed by a real-life remake featuring MAGA hats and neurosyphilis-level delusions. The book was reissued in 2018 because, well, Dump.
But yesterday, Dump kicked off the presser by proposing to seize the Panama Canal. “China’s taking over,” he declared, “and Jimmy Carter just gave it away!” Fact-check: Carter didn’t “give” the canal away; the Torrijos-Carter Treaties transferred control back to Panama after decades of U.S. dominance. But nuance has never been Dump’s strong suit. “We’re going to take it back,” he continued, “and this time, we’re keeping it for good.” Because nothing says “diplomacy” like a good, old-fashioned military invasion of a sovereign nation.
One can almost hear Hollenbach’s fictional advisors whispering, “He’s finally lost it,” as Dump doubled down. Knebel’s paranoid president wanted a coalition with Moscow; Dump apparently wants to annex Canada and Greenland, turning North America into his own private golf course. What’s next? Declaring Antarctica a Dump-brand ski resort? Maybe he’ll bury Melania there when she croaks.
Much like Knebel’s Hollenbach, Dump’s disdain for traditional allies was on full display. He lambasted Denmark for rejecting his 2019 offer to purchase Greenland, calling it “a country that’s done nothing but ice and Lego.” Meanwhile, Canada, our polite northern neighbor, became Dump’s newest target. “It’s time for them to join the winning team,” he said, suggesting that Canada’s addition as the 51st state would “save them from themselves.” Sure, Donald. The Canadians are just dying to trade universal healthcare for Mar-a-Lago memberships.
Hollenbach, too, envisioned a radical reordering of alliances, though his approach was more Cold War intrigue and less Monopoly board expansionism. Both men, fictional and real, share a knack for alienating allies and confusing enemies. Knebel’s novel may have been fiction, but Dump’s press conference? That was performance art.
If Knebel’s Hollenbach saw conspiracies around every corner, Dump sees them around every microwave. He accused Joe Biden of undermining his transition, Jimmy Carter of handing the Panama Canal to China, and “the deep state” of inflating gas heater standards to ruin American kitchens. Yes, folks, the conspiracy now includes efficient water heaters.
This level of paranoia is strikingly similar to the delusional thinking observed in advanced neurosyphilis. Persecutory delusions, anyone? Knebel’s president believed he was the target of a shadowy cabal; Dump, not to be outdone, painted himself as the lone savior in a world full of schemers, “influencers,” and Canadian dairy farmers.
In a move of breathtaking insensitivity, Dump managed to criticize Jimmy Carter as the former president’s body was en route to Washington. “Carter’s weakness cost us Panama,” Dump scoffed, adding, “He should’ve built a wall around it.” The fact Carter was a widely respected humanitarian who once battled brain cancer while building homes for the homeless seemed lost on Dump. In Knebel’s novel, Hollenbach trampled tradition with his erratic behavior, but even Hollenbach might have drawn the line at trashing a deceased president mid-funeral procession.
Perhaps the most jarring parallel between Knebel’s novel and Dump’s reality is the sheer unpredictability of their actions. Knebel’s president monologued about bizarre alliances and world domination; Dump mused about seizing Greenland, building a new canal in Florida to rival Panama’s, and replacing the Statue of Liberty with a golden Dump Tower replica. “It’ll be bigger and shinier,” he promised, as if America’s greatness could be measured in karats.
In Night of Camp David, Hollenbach’s descent into madness left advisors scrambling for solutions. Dump’s press conference evoked a similar energy, with aides looking visibly alarmed as he veered off-script. How does one spin a military takeover of Greenland as “reasoned policy” without resorting to tequila?
Let’s not ignore the elephant in the room—or in this case, the symptoms on the stage. Dump’s grandiose ideas, paranoia, erratic behavior, and disregard for facts bear an uncanny resemblance to the cognitive decline seen in neurosyphilis. While no one’s suggesting a diagnosis, the similarities are… curious. A fictional president’s paranoia about conspiracies? Check. Delusions of grandeur involving territorial annexations? Double check. Aggression and threats against allies and enemies alike? Triple check.
Of course, Knebel’s Hollenbach was a work of fiction, while Dump’s presser was, hilariously, all too real. Still, one can’t help but wonder: Is reality mimicking fiction, or has fiction simply failed to keep up?
When Night of Camp David was reissued, critics called it “too plausible for comfort.” Those words ring even truer today. Knebel’s novel warned of the dangers of unchecked power and the fragility of democratic institutions in the hands of a mentally unstable leader. Dump’s shitshow yesterday offered a masterclass in why those warnings still matter.
Dump also found time to attack wind turbines for “driving whales crazy,” complain about faucets that go—and we quote—”drip…drip…drip,” and announce he would be changing the name of the Gulf of Mexico to the “Gulf of America.” You know, important policy matters that aren’t at all kookoo for Coco Puffs batshit fucking insane. At least this time around he didn’t bring up the late Arnold Palmer’s apparently humungous tallywhacker.
As the press conference wrapped up, Dump escalated his threats against Hamas, promising “all hell will break out” if his demands aren’t met. What’s this lard-ass, shit-for-brains putz planning to do, kill 100,000 more innocent women and children? One can’t help but imagine Knebel’s fictional advisor frantically whispering about Dump, “Can we shove the 25th Amendment up this nut-bird’s asshole?” To which a second advisor might reply, “Maybe, but first we’ve gotta get that shit-soiled diaper off and hose down that immense, blubberous butt.”
Knebel’s Night of Camp David posed a harrowing question: What happens when the president loses his grip on reality? Dump’s January 7th performance answered it in real time, blending fiction’s darkest fears with reality’s tawdriest absurdities. While the world can take solace in Knebel’s fictional Hollenbach never achieving his Canadian coalition, we can only hope Dump’s vision of a Greenland coup remains similarly confined to the realm of syphilitic fever dreams.
So, if you haven’t yet read Night of Camp David, consider it required reading—not as an escape from reality, but as a sobering reminder truth is often stranger, and a fucking whole lot scarier, than fiction.
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