With no A-list performers on the menu, things are looking bleak for Tom Barrack.
Tom Barrack, the head of Donald Trump's inauguration committee, will soon be dead.
Unable to enlist any top-name performers for inauguration night festivities, Mr. Barrack says he will take his own life hours after the new president is sworn in.
"You think I'm happy with a lineup that includes a bunch of singing swinging Mormons, non-dancing Rockettes and ten cover bands? sighed Barrack. "It's embarrassing. I'm sure Caligula's planner had better luck than I've had."
Barrack sobbed quietly into his turtleneck. "Believe me, I know people. Big name people. Most of them either ignored my calls or hurled nasty insults at me. And for the record, I have never f***ed my own mother. That wasn't very nice, Elton!"
According to Barrack, he's received "a boatload of pressure" from the Trump transition team as well as from Mr. Trump himself. "The President-Elect called me last week while I was on the other line finalizing a deal with "Evening Delight," a shitty Starland Vocal Band cover group out of Topeka, when my secretary says she has Donald Trump on line 2. So, I hang up the other line and Mr. Trump starts yelling at me at the top of his lungs, 'Bring me Beyoncé! Bring me Beyoncé!' He might as well have said, 'Bring me Liberace!' because neither one will be performing for him!"
It was a surprising admission from a man who just last week said that ""instead of trying to surround him (Trump) with what people consider 'A-listers,' we are going to surround him with the soft sensuality of the place. It's a much more poetic cadence than having a circus-like celebration that's a coronation."
"I was drunk," Barrack explained. "I've been drinking seven or eight Cosmos every frigging day this month." He paused and leaned towards me. "Did I really say all that bullshit? A more poetic cadence?
Well, if I did, I should just end my life right here and now."
The frazzled man threw down his Day Planner and began sobbing uncontrollably. "The cruel irony of it all," he wailed, "is that if my name was 'Barack' instead of 'Barrack,' I'd be knee deep in celebs begging
me to let them perform: U2 and Barbra Streisand and Michael Bublé and on and on. And who do I get? Some 16 year-old nobody from some reality show singing The National Anthem. Oh, that should put a lot asses in the seats!"
As for his plans to kill himself, Barrack seemed oddly sanguine. "I'm going to do it very quietly and on my own terms. I'm going to swallow a big handful of sleeping pills and wash them down with a bottle of Chardonnay while listening to my favorite Josh Groban song You Raise Me Up
Barrack giggled. "I was sure I could get Josh to perform at the inaugural but his agent said something to the effect of 'Eat your own feces and go to hell.' Oh Josh!"