2020—it pleases both the eye and the ear and conjures thoughts of perfect vision, which those in the vision business will no doubt be capitalizing on in the coming months, any day now, rolling out their 2020-vision ad campaigns. They may already have begun petitioning to have 2020 declared "the year of perfect vision". It’s a perfect fit.

Others will capitalize, too. I’m imagining Trump, a month or so from now, blathering away to a grinning assemblage of bobbleheads in red MAGA caps, claiming there’s never been an American President in the entire history of the world with vision like his.

"Abe Lincoln, George Washington, Benjamin Franklin—none of them had vision like mine," he boasts.

The bobbleheads are clapping and cheering and waving their arms.

"20/20? No big deal, people. My vision is 80/80—four times 20/20! Four times! How many can say that? One in a billion? One in a trillion? Who knows? Probably one in a trillion. And you know what? It gets better every day. You wouldn't believe what I can see!"

He makes binoculars with his fists and scans back and forth across the crowd. They’re laughing.

"You’ve got to look after your eyes, people, you’ve got to look after your eyes. They’re one of the head’s most important things. Your ears? Not so important. You can live without your ears. I know lots of guys with no ears. They hear fine. But your eyes? That’s another thing, altogether. Imagine not having your eyes—no more television—bumping into things all the time—falling into manholes. Be terrible, right? You’ve got to look after your eyes, people."

Someone shouts "Hear! Hear!"

"Want to know what I do to look after mine? I never read. Nothing long, anyway. Menus, tweets, score cards, Bible verses—that’s about it. Believe me, people, nothing wears out your eyes quicker than reading long things. Think of it, folks—you look around a library and what do you see? Nearly everyone's wearing glasses—right? Even the young children. It’s crazy.

"Know what else I never do? I never go within 50 miles of those windmill things, either. Any closer than that, you can go blind. And everybody knows it. The evidence is unresputable. We have more blind farmers today than at any time in our history. And where are they concentrated? You guessed it—around those stupid windmill things. And what do the fake news media have to say about it? Nothing! Nothing about the cancer they cause, either. It’s disgraceful!

“You know why all the bookstores are closing? And why the failing New York Times is failing? I’ll tell you why. They’ve been systematically blinding their customers, giving them long, boring things to read, same as libraries. Imagine! Systematically blinding your readership! How stupid do you have to be to do that? Are you listening, New York Times? How stupid do you have to be? What a bunch of losers!”

The bobbleheads are chanting, “Fake News! Fake News! Fake News!” Trump pretends to conduct the chanting for a bit then raises his hand to quiet them.

"If you’d asked me for a stock tip 5 years ago, you know what I’d have told you? White-cane manufacturers."

There are pockets of laughter.

"Seriously. I’d have told you 'white-cane manufacturers'. And you’d have cleaned up, just like I did. You’d have been laughing all the way to the bank. Not anymore, though. The bookstores are closing, the windmills are coming down. You have my word for it, people. They’re coming down."

He waits for the cheering to subside.

"You know they’re killing our birds, as well. Right? Sad. Very sad. We love our birds, don’t we. No animal has nicer feathers than a bird. Remember that jazz guy, Larry Bird? Couldn’t keep a tune. Wandered all over the place. Just a whole lot of noise. Terrible screechy stuff. Sounded like he was just learning to play. Not to those tin-eared, do-nothing Democrats, though. They loved him, fawned all over him like he was Kid Rock or something. Imagine! Fawning all over a loser like that! They even made a movie about him. What a joke! You know who I fawn over? The farmers. No one loves the farmers more than I do, and no one ever will. And the farmers know it. Just this morning, one came up to me and said, 'Sir, there’s never ever been anyone who’s done more for farmers than you have. Thank you so very, very much, sir. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.' He was down on one knee, had tears in his eyes, didn’t want to let go of my hand. Happens all the time, farmers coming up to me like that and thanking me for everything I’ve done for them. We love our farmers, don’t we. We sure do love our farmers. Obama? He hated the farmers. With that big goofy grin and all that fake charm, he had them believing these windmills were good for them, and sadly, being the wonderful, trusting people farmers are, they took him at his word. For eight years, people. For eight years, we had an enemy in the Whitehouse, an Islamic Muslim from Africa weakening our resistance to takeover by blinding our farmers, and giving them cancer, and lots of other terrible, evil things, too. Eight years! And, in all that time, not a peep from the fake news media. Not a peep. And he’s still walking around free. How stupid is that! He should be locked up in Guantissimo and the keys thrown away. Crooked Hillary, too. And that other loser, Nancy Pelosi. And I’ve good news, people—they soon will be. Nancy, if you’re listening, you’d better start packing your bags."

The bobbleheads are chanting. "Lock them up. Lock them up. Lock them up."

Trump is blathering on but, even in my imagination, I can’t stomach him any longer, so I’m going to fire up a joint, now, and stare out the window for a bit.