Prophet Margins: The Art of the Eternal Deal

The bold shall inherit the penthouses.

March 20, 2026.

The Oval Office is bathed in the golden light of a late Friday afternoon.

Donald Trump sat behind the Resolute Desk, adjusting his silk tie and checking his reflection in a polished brass paperweight.

He buzzed. “Send him in.”

The door opened and Noah stepped in, clutching a damp roll of goatskin. Trump recoiled, pressing a white silk handkerchief to his nose.

“Whoa, whoa, stop right there,” Trump yelled, voice muffled. “You look like you just swam across the Hudson River, and frankly, that ‘wet goat’ scent is a total disaster for the upholstery. We have the best ventilation in the world, the absolute best, and even it can’t handle this. You’re fired, Noah. Get a shower, and a shave, and maybe we’ll look at the boat specs later. Out.”

As a confused Noah was ushered out, Trump sprayed a cloud of cologne into the air.

“Unbelievable. No hygiene standards anymore. Send in the next one and make sure he’s dry.”

The air grew heavy with the faint scent of desert musk as Moses entered. He looked like a man who had just spent forty days on a very hot mountain. He slammed two granite slabs onto the desk with a thud that made the presidential sharpies jump.

Trump looked the prophet up and down with a critical eye. “You look like you’ve missed a few barber appointments, Mo. Like the Ayatollah. He was a nasty man. We got him. Total victory. I can call you Mo, right?”

“Focus, Donald,” Moses boomed, his voice ricocheting off the gold-leafed ceiling. “We’re here to talk about The Covenant between God and man.”

Trump winced. “Mo, let’s keep the volume down to a ten, okay? My ears are very sensitive, and I have very high-quality hearing. Let’s talk about the ‘Ten’ thing. Ten is too much. It’s a lot of reading. People have short attention spans. They’re on their phones, they’re watching the news. If you give them ten, they forget six and seven, and then you’ve lost the room. How about we cut the shit and go for a Top Five. A ‘High-Five from the Heavens.’ It’s viral. It’s punchy. By the way, I love the stones, I really do. Very artisanal. But, let’s make them gold.”

Moses gripped his staff tighter, his knuckles growing white. His voice boomed again.

“These are the Words of the Lord.”

“Mo, the volume…keep it down. And yeah, He did a great job, really top-tier stuff,” Trump nodded. “But look at this one: ‘Thou shalt not covet.’ We have to lose that immediately. Coveting is the engine of the American economy! If people don’t covet their neighbor’s house, they won’t buy my condos. If they don’t covet the neighbor’s wife, well…that’s a whole different topic. Let’s change it to something more motivational. And ‘Bearing false witness’? That’s a very gray area. Sometimes you have to... embellish. I call it ‘truthful hyperbole.’ And the Sabbath? Sunday is for golf, Mo. Everyone knows that.”

Original Commandment vs The Trump Edit

Thou shalt not covet.

Trump edit: Stay Hungry & Buy Luxury

Thou shalt not bear false witness.

Trump edit: Strategic Brand Management

Remember the Sabbath

Trump edit: Flexible Sunday (Golf-Friendly)

Honor thy father and mother

Trump edit: Depends on the Inheritance

No other gods before me

Trump edit: Loyalty is Everything

“See?” Trump said, beaming. “It’s cleaner. It’s pro-business. We’ll have a launch party at the Red Sea once the war is over. Maybe you can do the water trick again for the press? It’d be a huge photo-op, maybe the biggest in history. We’ll put them on a billboard in Times Square. We’ll call it ‘The Trump Ten (Minus Five).’ It’ll be huge.”

As Moses dropped the tablets on the carpet, leaving giant dents in the floor, and left, the final visitor entered.

Jesus took a seat in a yellow silk chair with a quiet grace that ignored the opulence of the room.

Trump leaned back, arms crossed, surveying the Son of God.

“You look practically clean shaven compared to Mo, but J, the sandals … they’re a total disaster. You’ve got sand all over my carpet.”

“What’s on your mind, Donald,” Jesus smiled.

“Look, J, I’ve been skimming your book,” Trump leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “Tremendous stuff. The miracles? Top-tier. The water into wine? That’s a high-margin business, very smart. But we have to talk about the branding. Christianity is a global powerhouse, but it’s been a little stagnant lately. The messaging is ... soft. It’s a bit... low energy and very ‘middle-of-the-road.’ And you know what they say about the middle of the road - you get hit by cars.”

Jesus folded his hands. “What are you talking about, Donald?”

“Well, let’s start with the big one,” Trump said. “’The meek shall inherit the earth.’ I have to be honest - that’s a tough sell. The meek don’t inherit anything. They’re losers who get steamrolled. I don’t want them inheriting anything. I like winners. We should change it to: ‘The bold shall acquire the real estate.’ It’s more aspirational. And this ‘turn the other cheek’ policy? Total disaster. If someone hits you, you hit them back ten times harder. You crush them. You sue them. That’s how you get respect. If you turn the cheek, you just get hit again. It’s a bad look for the brand.”

“The Kingdom I speak of is not of this world,” Jesus replied softly. “It is found in the heart of the one who gives everything away.”

Trump recoiled. “Give it away? No, J, that’s not how we do it here. That’s a tax strategy. But I’ll tell you what. I’ve got the solution. I’ve developed the Holy Bible: The Platinum Trump Edition. The New New Testament. Feel it,” he said, sliding a shimmering, gold-embossed book across the desk.

“Every great book needs a great foreword. I’ve already written it. It’s ten pages - maybe twelve, I might add a section on my 2024 win, which many people are saying was the greatest miracle in history since the loaves and the fishes. Maybe even bigger, frankly, because the ratings were higher.”

Jesus tilted his head. “You want to write the introduction to the Word of God?”

“Not just an introduction,” Trump clarified. “A testimonial. I’ll explain that while the original is a classic, it really pops when you apply the Trump Principles. I’ve added some annotations in the margins. Like in the Garden of Eden - I pointed out that Adam and Eve had a terrible lease agreement. No protection. They got evicted over an apple? I would have had that snake in a non-disclosure agreement so fast his head would spin.”

Jesus set the book down.

“The Word is meant to be written on the heart, Donald, not sold for sixty-nine dollars with a commemorative coin.”

“The coin is silver-plated! It’s a collector’s item!” Trump countered. “Look, J, think about the merchandising. We do a limited run. Signed copies. We put a picture of the two of us on the back - maybe on a gold background. We’ll call it the ‘Prophet and the President’ collection. We can sell them at rallies, in gift shops, maybe even a subscription box. We’ll include a small vial of ‘Trump Holy Water’ - it’s actually just regular water, but we’ll put it in a very nice bottle with a gold cap. We’ll split the whole thing 40/60. 40 for you. We can bring Mo in on this, if you want. I’ll give him 5% for just getting a shave and a shower. We’ll have a signing at Mar-a-Lago. I’ll even have the chef make the fish. No bread needed, I’ve got plenty of that.”

Jesus walked toward the door, his expression one of sorrow mixed with amusement.

Trump watched him go, then sat back down and picked up his gold Sharpie. He began circling the word “Revelation.”

“We’ll call it ‘The Great Reveal,’” he muttered. “Much better for the ratings.”

—

Have a great weekend, folks!