(The scene opens as the camera fades onto the balcony of the First Family’s Quarters of the White House…There is a chorus of people wearing tin foiled tri-cornered hats, some in white sheets, many with dollar bills protruding from pockets and bosoms. Scattered among the crowd are a few daring enough to wear a red arm band with a black swastika for that touch of color…A female dressed in white fabric, a dress made in China, appears standing now by the railing of the balcony…the crowd begins to chant…”Ivanka, Ivanka, Ivanka”…The orchestra raises their instruments a melody begins softly at first with just the strings and a light touch of woodwinds, and then…)
“Don’t cry for me Amer-i-ca, the truth is, I plan to screw you, I really have to, I really want to, and I intend to. You know that we’re never honest, well thats our trademark, how we do business, you really bought it and now you got it.” “And as for fortune and fame, well its all in the brand, its all in my name, its part of our game.” Don’t cry for me Amer-i-ca, you knew we’d con you, that’s what the Trump’s do, the only thing about us, thats true!”
Ivanka Kushner, a lusted after daughter, not the quite the mistress as was, Evita Peron. Serving as the informal First Lady, Ivanka Kushner, as did Evita Peron for President Juan Peron. Self serving, selfish, pretending to be the people’s First Lady, all the while stashing great treasures in her private bank account, Evita Peron or Ivanka Kushner? A face for the nation, a female supposedly a woman’s friend, supposedly pro labor, supposedly devoted to the public, while all the while, grifting from heads of states promising them better politics as they greased the palm of her hand, Evita Peron or Ivanka Kushner. (The camera is now focuses on her face, she is demure, almost made of porcelain, angelic at first but as the camera lens moves in closer, we notice that the makeup is fading, the face has become uglier and then the final scene as she exits from the balcony is a form as scary and heinous as Medusa, with tentacles grabbing at every excess possible. No longer a woman, but of a creature as she enters the White House, she screeches “All through my wild days I kept my promise…now keep your distance!” ( partial lyrics by Andrew Lloyd Weber)
