Steve Bannon, President Donald Trump’s chief strategist, has been removed from his permanent seat at the National Security Council, multiple sources tell CNN, moving the council into a more traditional format.
AND BREITBART UNMASKED WAS THERE! (As far as you know.)
There is a joyous atmosphere at today’s meeting of the National Security Council. All the members are gathered around the table in the NSA meeting room as President Trump begins to address his most trusted advisors in the realm of national security.
TRUMP A man becomes preeminent, he’s expected to have enthusiasms. Enthusiasms… Enthusiasms…What are mine? What draws my admiration? What is that which gives me joy?…Baseball. (He holds up a baseball bat) A man, a man stands alone at a plate. This is the time for what? For individual achievement. There he stands alone. But in the field, what? PART OF A TEAM!
TRUMP: Looks, throws, catches, hustles, part of one big team. Bats himself the live-long day, Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb, and so on. If his team don’t field, what is he? You follow me? No one. A sunny day, the stands are full of fans. What does he have to say? ‘I’m goin’ out there for myself. But, I get nowhere unless the team wins.’
ALL: TEAM TRUMP.
The President has stopped circling the table. He stands directly behind his Senior Advisor Steven K. Bannon. A look of hatred and cruel, murderous attempt appears on Trump’s face as he clutches the handle of the baseball bat as if it were a sledge hammer. Bannon is unaware, joking, chatting with the other boys.
Trump brings down the bat with furious force, making a loud “THWACK” which can be heard echoing throughout the White House. The bat has shattered into a thousand pieces.
“Ow!” Bannon says, rubbing the back of his head as he turns around to face his furious President. “What the hell? That’s gonna leave a bump.”
“The National Security Council. You’re not on it any more,” Trump hisses. “Take a walk.”
“What about all the other stuff I do,” Bannon asks, sounding a bit wounded.
Trump’s features soften. “Oh, that stuff. Don’t worry. You’re still in charge of all of that. Now, go ice down your coconut.”
“Jesus,” Bannon mutters as he rises from his chair and leaves the room.
Trump calls after him. “Hey, Mister Grumpy Butt…”
Bannon stops and turns around to face the President.
“Don’t worry. You can still attend any meeting where your expertise is needed,” Trump says.
Bannon snorts. Turns to the door. Leaves the room.