I am patiently waiting for the day Donald Trump wakes up, looks out of the White House window, surveys the mess we call civilisation and thinks: You know what this planet really needs? Better branding.
And thus, by executive proclamation, perhaps sometime before lunch, Earth will become Planet Trump.
Why stop at Lake Ontario or the Gulf of Mexico? Why stop at airports, buildings, golf courses and whatever else can be renamed with the subtlety of a property developer putting his name on a condominium? The entire planet is surely the logical next step.
The announcement would probably arrive on social media in the familiar style of a man simultaneously declaring victory and complaining that everyone else is cheating.
“EARTH IS NOW PLANET TRUMP. Nobody has ever renamed a planet before. Very BIG. Very BEAUTIFUL. The greatest planet in the HISTORY of planets. China is jealous. NASA loves it. The Moon called me personally.”
Naturally, the next question would be whether the name could be trademarked.
Of course it could.
Or at least, in the Trumpian universe, the Supreme Court could be asked to make it possible.
Imagine the hearing.
“Your Honour, my client believes the planet should be called Trump.”
“On what constitutional basis?”
“Because he really, really likes the name.”
A solemn silence would descend upon the courtroom.
Then someone would ask whether the other 8 billion inhabitants of Earth had been consulted.
Trump would presumably consider this an outrageous suggestion. Why would they need to be consulted? They already live on his planet.
The oceans could be renamed Trump Oceans, the Atlantic could become Trump Atlantic, and the Pacific could be rebranded Trump Pacific, because apparently even the world's geography must now develop a loyalty programme.
Mount Everest might become Trump Mountain, although that could cause an awkward dispute with the Himalayas, which have stubbornly existed for millions of years without asking permission.
The Sun could perhaps be renamed Trump Star.
The Moon?
Trump Moon.
Mars?
Obviously Trump Mars, because apparently conquering the solar system is easier than solving healthcare.
And somewhere in NASA, exhausted scientists would stare at their computers as centuries of astronomical terminology disappear beneath a giant golden logo.
There would be merchandise.
PLANET TRUMP — LIMITED EDITION EARTH GLOBE.
The irony would be magnificent. Humanity spent thousands of years arguing over philosophy, religion, science, democracy and the meaning of existence, only to discover that the ultimate question of civilisation was apparently: Who owns the trademark on the third rock from the Sun?
But there is a darker joke beneath the absurdity.
A democracy becomes particularly dangerous when political power starts behaving like personal property. When public institutions become props, national symbols become branding opportunities and the distinction between government and personal vanity begins to evaporate.
Eventually, even the planet itself risks becoming another campaign accessory.
The good news is that Earth has survived worse than Donald Trump.
Asteroids.
Ice ages.
Volcanoes.
Dinosaurs.
And, remarkably, humanity.
So perhaps the planet will survive Planet Trump too.
The real concern is what happens afterward.
Because if Trump ever succeeds in trademarking Earth, every alien civilisation approaching our solar system may receive the same message:
WELCOME TO PLANET TRUMP.
PLEASE HAVE YOUR PASSPORT, TAX RETURN AND LAWYER READY.
And somewhere behind Saturn, an alien commander will quietly turn his spaceship around.
“Forget invasion,” he will say.
“They've already invaded themselves.”
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