Donald Trump was weighed, measured and pounded, and in the end he was found to be guilty of 34 felonies. Within minutes of the verdict being rendered, he began a colossal effort to transform himself into a victim of Joe Biden and the “uppity” Negroes who the Liberal establishment has created over the last half-century. I can’t help but believe this nation is now in a more precarious position than it’s been in since 1861. We are destined for chaos, bloodshed and mayhem, but let’s look at the lighter side of this verdict….

Imagine the spectacle: Donald Trump, former President of the United States, sentenced to serve jail time for 34 felonies - but only on weekends. Forget locking him up in his mansion or doing 6 months at Attica, even though that would be priceless. Make it weekends.

It’s a reality show waiting to happen, blending “The Apprentice” with “Orange is the New Black.” Picture Trump, the ultimate weekend warrior, trading his tailored suits for an orange jumpsuit every Friday evening.

Friday Evening: Arrival and Check-In

The nation tunes in as Air Force One is temporarily rebranded “Inmate One,” touching down at JFK, before the motorcade takes him to Rikers Island. Trump, with his signature grimacing glare and hurricane-swept hair, is greeted by a throng of paparazzi. As he checks in, he demands a “tremendous” cell, one befitting a former president. As Trump arrives at the jail, he steps out in a tailored orange jumpsuit (because standard issue is for losers). He’d make a grand entrance, waving to the cameras and blowing kisses, treating it like another one of his rallies. Inside, he’s greeted by the warden, who offers him the “best” cell, complete with a view of the parking lot and an extra comfy cot.

Saturday Morning: Prison Life Begins

On Saturday morning, Trump is introduced to the realities of prison life. He attempts to negotiate better accommodations, promising to “Make Cell Blocks Great Again.” His fellow inmates are a tough crowd, unphased by his celebrity status. Trump, never one to back down, tries to assert his dominance, but quickly learns that Twitter rants hold no power behind bars. Thank God he’s got the Secret Service to protect him.

Saturday Afternoon: Jailhouse Rock

In the afternoon, Trump holds an impromptu rally in the prison yard, promising to build a “big, beautiful wall” between cell blocks to keep rival gangs apart. The inmates, now his captive audience, are skeptical but entertained. His speeches are filled with the usual bombast, but with a twist: “We’ll have the best prison food, believe me. The best!

The weekend in jail would become the hottest reality TV show. “Trump Behind Bars: Weekend Edition” would have the highest ratings, with Americans tuning in to see what antics he’d get up to next. Would he start a prison reform program? Would he complain about the food? (Definitely.) Would he befriend the guards and promise them positions in his next administration? (Absolutely.)

Saturday Evening: Social Media Frenzy

Back in his cell, Trump uses his one allowed phone call to update his social media. His tweets, now peppered with prison slang, go viral. “The food here is SAD. Very low energy. Bigly miss my Big Macs. #PrisonReform #MAGA.” His followers flood the internet with memes, comparing his new reality to his days in the Oval Office. Trump would be live-tweeting from his cell, railing against the “deep state” and promising to pardon himself once re-elected. His tweets would be a mix of prison complaints (“Terrible coffee, worse than that weak stuff at Trump Tower!”) and campaign promises (“Day one: prison reform! No one should suffer like this!”).

Sunday Morning: Visiting Hours

Sunday brings a parade of visitors, including campaign aides and loyal supporters. The visiting room becomes a makeshift campaign office, with Trump strategizing for his next rally. His aides bring him fast food - smuggled in as contraband - which he shares with fellow inmates, winning their temporary loyalty. His campaign team, never ones to miss an opportunity to pimp and exploit, would turn the jailhouse into a revolving door of GOP bigwigs and MAGA celebrities. Imagine Rudy Giuliani, Mike Lindell, and Kid Rock, all huddled in the visitation room, strategizing over prison coffee and stale doughnuts. The walls would be plastered with “Trump 2024” posters, and campaign merchandise would mysteriously become the hottest contraband in the facility.

Sunday Afternoon: The Departure

By Sunday afternoon, Trump is ready to leave. As he exits the prison, he waves to the cameras, vowing to “Drain the Swamp” of prison corruption. His departure is as grandiose as his arrival, complete with a press conference in the parking lot. He promises to return next weekend with “big, beautiful plans” for prison reform

Impact on His Life and Campaign

The weekend incarcerations become a bizarre chapter in Trump’s life and campaign. His supporters rally around him, seeing him as a martyr fighting a corrupt system. His opponents are equally vocal, using his jail time as proof of his unfitness for office. Late-night comedians have a field day, and “Weekend at Donny’s” becomes a running joke.

In the national spotlight, Trump’s weekend escapades blur the lines between reality and satire. His campaign slogans take on new meanings - “Lock Her Up” becomes “Let Me Out,” and “Build the Wall” turns into “Break Down These Walls.” During the week, Trump would be on the campaign trail, turning his jail time into a badge of honor. “They can’t keep me down! I’m the first presidential candidate to run from both the White House and the Big House!” he’d declare to roaring crowds. His rallies would feature mock jail cells on stage, where he’d sit for part of his speech, dramatically miming his “unjust” incarceration.

In the end, Trump’s part-time incarceration would be less about justice served and more about the greatest reality TV show ever produced. America would watch, laugh, and perhaps, just for a moment, forget the trifling absurdity of it all.

The nation watches, half in disbelief, half in amusement, as the spectacle unfolds, proving once again that in American politics, truth is often stranger than fiction.

BlackCommentator.com Columnist, Desi

Cortez, who also writes for

BlackAthlete.com & NegusWhoRead.com,

was hatched in the heart of Dixie, circa

1961, at the dawning of the age of

Aquarius, the by-product of four dynamic

individuals, Raised in South-Central LA,

the 213. At age 14 transplanted to the

base of the Rockies, Denver. Still a Mile-

Hi. Sat at the foot of scholars for many,

many moons, emerging with a desire and

direction… if not a sheep-skin.

Meandered thru life; gone a-lot places,

done a-lot of things, raised a man-cub

into an officer n' gentleman, a "man's

man." Produced a beautiful baby-girl

with my lover/woman/soul-mate… aired

my "little" mind on the airwaves and

wrote some stuff along the way.

Wordsmith behind America's Ten Months

Pregnant . . . Ready To Blow!: Even

Trump Can't "Make America White

Again." A New, More Inclusive, Diverse

21st Century America - Love It . . . Or

Get The Hell Out!. Contact Mr. Cortez

and BC.