"It's important to start 2026 the right way," POTUS announced, "so please silence your phones and the First Amendment." Then he flashed his signature grin, wide enough to vacuum the national oxygen. "Thank you for signing the NDA not to reveal my magic tricks, if you'd seen them before."

The President said all this as he stepped into, or rather on, the East Wing, now a giant mess resembling some country in the aftermath of a friendly missile from Bibi. The renovation had been halted until it passes proper approval by the National Trust for Historic Preservation. It seems the only thing the President could preserve is the appearance of trust that ecce homo in charge of the world's only superpower knows what he's doing. Hence his formal tuxedo cape and the announcement that today's briefing would be an interactive legerdemain performance on the floor of the demolishing site. The place smelled faintly of hubris and plausible deniability, though some detected hints of petro-dollar fumes.

He produced a wand — gold, obviously, and not from The Home Depot — and tapped a lectern mounted on the remains of the East Wing's fallen western wall. Two more taps followed. That's a total of three policies.

"Watch closely. This is Economic Policy."

Lo and behold, he pulled a tariff out of his sleeve with a flourish. It — the tariff — was very large, very shiny, and already labeled Paid By China, which saved everyone lots of time and labor costs. "Tariffs are not taxes," he proclaimed. "They're intentions, and if you believe hard enough, foreign countries feel embarrassed and send money directly to the Treasury, like Venmo but with flags."

"It's what I call Hocus POTUS," he said proudly. "It's our new Monruckus Doctrine. Some call it Donruckus... I don't know. The best ruckus in the world. Nobody's ever seen hocus pocus like this."

The President waved the wand again and made the trade deficit disappear. Or rather, he said it disappeared. Common sense seemed to disappear too. "Collateral damage… I'm not too worried about it. Now watch this."

The deficit was still there, but now it had been folded smaller and placed behind his left ear, just in front of Stephen Miller's lips. The right ear is usually reserved for Bibi's.

A reporter asked whether this was audited, but the President, in a smashing move inspired by The Who, sawed the question in half and placed it in a box marked Fake News, which rattled.

"Now, I give you Foreign Policy." The lights dimmed as a map of the Middle East rolled out, followed by those of Venezuela, Greenland, Canada, and Cuba… and the entire Western Hemisphere. With a snap, Gaza became Trump Land: beachfront, gently photoshopped, no history, tremendous potential. He promised luxury towers rising where Palantir-branded rubble had been. When asked about peace, he confirmed that it will be achieved through branding and a gift shop selling limited-edition cease-fires that only Bibi could break nightly. "People don't want conflict," he explained. "They want views."

South Lebanon came next. He waved the wand and declared it another buffer zone next to South Syria's buffer zone, which floated gently above the floor like a nervous assistant. "It's very stable," he said, as it drifted sideways. He reminded the audience that Jordan and Egypt have been successful buffer states for decades now. "My Mideast policy is working!" Nearby, Bibi performed a joyful Freylekh dance — no wand or cape — while murmuring, nodding, reshuffling a deck. Cards appeared where the President meant doves. "Very powerful hocus pocus," the President said, watching his own hands.

"If oil prices came down," he added, tapping the map, "all of this ends. Wars hate cheap oil, especially from Saudi Arabia or Iran." He snapped his fingers. Nothing happened. He snapped again, harder, and announced that something was already happening, just not where anyone could see it, except for Maduro watching Chevron's stock prices rise from his prison cell in NYC, while Elliott Management's Paul Singer and Jonathan Pollack (not Pollard, the spy) counted their accidental lucky stars.

Back at home and away from foreign lands, the Culture Policy required the President's attention too. With a magician's grin, he transformed the Kennedy Center into the Trump–K Center, explaining that the arts needed "better lighting" and "shorter ballets." The orchestra played louder, aided by ICE megaphones and Wild West gunshots. The chandeliers applauded again, still learning their cues. The ghosts of the Founding Fathers were reassigned to branding. "It's still culture," he said. "Just more measurable."

Throughout the policy performance at the diminished White House and the country it occupies, aides stood nearby between the rubble, sawing graphs in half, distracting the audience with scarves labeled Jobs — no no, not Steve Jobs, just jobs — while others murmured spells: Cook it slower, move fast and Musk things, open the Gates, Zuck the audience, trust the Thiel, Palantir sees all devices, let Jensen render it, ask Sam to predict what comes next. Everyone bowed. Everyone nodded. Everyone hoped the new year remembered them.

POTUS reached into a hat and pulled out a pencil. "You can give these up," he told the audience. "You don't need them. We're winning." He dropped the pencil back into the hat, where it was immediately replaced by American steel. The steel did not write poetry, but it polled extremely well.

In the finale, he addressed the nation directly. "You may think this is all an illusion," he said. "But illusions are very powerful. A new year is basically an illusion. If you feel like you're winning, you are winning. That's economics. That's foreign policy. That's culture. That's hocus pocus."

He bowed. The cape swirled. The wand disappeared.

Later, as the lights came up, the audience and the American people noticed that their wallets felt much lighter, the country's duct tape was warm to the touch, Gaza was now a rendering, the East Wing still smelled moldy, the Trump-K Center had a loyalty program, and the rabbit had been reclassified as a success. But the President had already exited through a trapdoor, shouting from below, "Amazing show! It'll be an executive order," while Congress and Big Law had gone MIA.

Also later, ravenous wolves found the magic wand somewhere in Greenland. Mossad strategists were quickly tempted to claim a small part — about 92% — of Mandatory Greenland as ancestral settlements within the next American enterprise.