Looking for a Name

The time for the inaugurations was fast approaching. The Cabinet candidates had been named. Arrangements for the inspirational preacher were complete. Six inauguration balls had been scheduled. Dozens of intelligence briefings had been disregarded. The time was ripe.
People close to The Outsider, however, were concerned. He was sleeping for two hours instead of his usual four. Two weeks had passed since he last made any lewd remarks about sexy women. There was one day when only two tweets went out.
A secret meeting was held. An intervention would be held. In order to make it appear as if this was a family matter, Jared Thewealthy was dispatched to talk to him.
He gingerly knocked on the door.
“Come in!” hollered The Outsider. Each family member had devised a special series of knocks, so that The Outsider could tell if it was one of them who needed to see him. He was sprawled in front of his wide screen TV, wearing his favorite Playboy bathrobe. He did not look up.
Jared sat on a love seat next to the chosen one. He could tell that the winner was concerned.
“What’s up?”
“Look at these polls. My tweet readership has decreased by two percent. My cabinet appointments are not popular. Some of these idiot senators don’t want me to name the people I want.”
“Be patient. It takes time for some people to understand your greatness. They’ll come around.”
“I need a new tool. Like a title. We need to change how I present myself.”
“The Outsider has worked well for us…”
“The moment I put my right hand on that Bible I’m no longer The Outsider. I’ll be the ultimate insider. I need a new name.”
Jared knew better than to go against the chosen’s instinct. He walked outside the room and dialed his PR firm. After he explained the problem they agreed to send someone over.
In no time Willie Fullofnames was ushered to the penthouse of the Golden Tower. He was interviewed by the chosen’s family.
“We need a new brand,” they said.
“I understand. Do we want something that evokes business success?”
“No; that horse we’ve ridden for too long.”
“Sympathy for the struggling?”
“All of our appointees are billionaires. No; we don’t think so.”
“Leadership? Strength and royalty?”
Jared Thewealthy stood up.
“I like that!”
“Which one?” asked his wife, the famous hot designer.
“The royalty part. He’s the chosen. He comes out of nowhere to save us all. He’s… he’s like a god! But we can’t call him that, so the next best thing is to make him king!”
“People won’t go for that.” Everyone chimed in.
“That’s what they said about him in the beginning. Can’t you see that this is his destiny? I say we give him a name fit for a king.”
There was silence and many skeptical looks.
“Besides,” he continued. “Remember monarchies are inherited. This makes all of us important and powerful for life. Nothing wrong with that!”
Everyone in the room began to nod. They asked Willie to come up with a few suggestions and to report back in three days.
True to his duty, Willie returned at his due time with several folders in tow.
“I have a few ideas. The most common names, like “The Great,” or “The Conqueror,” have been used too much. I felt that in America we’ll need something more familiar; less threatening. Maybe something to do with the senses, like color.”
All of the chosen’s children looked at each other. In unison they shouted out: “Gold!”
“I thought about that,” said Willie. There are negative connotations to gold; it may evoke greed, like the King Midas story. Orange, on the other hand…”
“Of course!” A genuine wave of excitement overcame the room.
“There are precedents. Erik the Red was a successful adventurer, but he killed many people in his life and he was not a king. Frederick Redbeard, better known as Barbarossa, was an emperor but had a mediocre career. Then I came to William of Orange.”
“Who was that?” said Jared.
“Never heard of him,” said the rest.
Willie realized that the chosen’s children shared their father’s disrespect for history.
“Let me explain to him, so that I don’t have to say the same thing twice. I think that he’ll like this.”
Into the wide screen TV room they went. To their dismay, they saw that the chosen was not clutching his cell phone.
“Dad, this is Willie. He has come up with a new name that we think will work.”
The chosen did not bother to look up. His popularity number had decreased by one percent since the morning.
“Can you believe these polls?” he asked. “They are all rigged.”
“I think that I can help,” Willie said.
He got a skeptical stare.
“Let me explain. William of Orange was a great hero, a fighter against invaders, beloved (to this day) by his countrymen, murdered in the line of duty to boot.”
“Sounds good,” said the chosen. “Was he Muslim?
“No, he made his name in the Netherlands.”
“Where’s that? Not in Mexico, is it?”
“The Netherlands is what we know as Holland. In Europe. William was born in Germany, but he spoke French and became the first king of the Netherlands.”
The chosen one looked up. Willie knew that now he had his attention.
“Did you say the first?”
“Officially William the First, Prince of Orange. But he really was the king, and his descendants still occupy the throne.”
“How can we make this work?”
“William inherited huge land holdings from an uncle. Orange was the name for many of these possessions. What we would call a county now. Like Orange County.”
Willie paused for a moment. He knew that he had everyone’s ear.
“All we need to do is find an Orange County that may be willing to sell you some land. You build a hotel there, then we start calling you “Donald of Orange.” You turn the economy around, you obliterate China and North Korea, and you split the rest of the world with Putin. But he’ll be stuck being a thug. You, however, will have a royal name. People will make you king. Your descendants will rule America for centuries!”
“Donald the First, Prince of Orange,” muttered the chosen one.
“You got it,” added Willie.
“I like it,” said the chosen. “You think it will play well on Twitter?”
“It can’t miss,” said Willie.
“Donald the First,” said the chosen again. “Donald the First, Donald the First, Donald the First…” Soon he was fast asleep, flying through a world full of trumpets and crowns and beautiful maidens who curtsied.