Imagine yourself on an intense LSD trip, walking across a landscape where the ground beneath your feet shimmers with iridescent soap bubbles in electric oranges, radiant blues, and psychedelic pinks. Each bubble bursts with a *pop*, sending spiraling, vibrant colors around you.
Above, you're walking on fluffy clouds that morph into surreal shapes, spiraling upward like a rainbow dream. These clouds are alive with shifting, Dali-esque forms, and ahead of you, an enormous, hyperrealistic face of Donald Trump looms in the sky—stoned out of his mind. His eyes are half-lidded, red, and glazed over, barely open, with a relaxed, goofy grin stretching across his face as though he’s just smoked a lifetime supply of marijuana.
His face, impossibly large, radiates with swirling fractal patterns. His signature hair floats in the air as if it’s become part of the cosmic landscape, glowing with Van Gogh-style swirling textures and Dali’s melting distortions. As he speaks, his voice is deep and slow, full of stoner philosophy, cracking lazy jokes that sound like Bill Bailey after a long day, his mouth moving at half speed as he takes in the universe with hazy wonder.
In your peripheral vision, vibrant fractals pulse with Van Gogh-like intensity, merging with Salvador Dali's iconic melting clocks and surreal shapes dripping off the edges of Trump's face. The psychedelic energy around you is thick, as Trump’s face continues to expand and contract, lost in the trip, his eyelids drooping even further.
Around you, *Alice in Wonderland* characters float by, equally mellowed out. The Cheshire Cat grins lazily, its smile growing wider with every puff of smoke it takes. The Mad Hatter and White Rabbit have turned their tea party into a cosmic chill-out session on a nearby cloud, their elongated forms melting in the surreal style of El Greco.
Instead of trees, McDonald’s clowns sway back and forth, their massive clown shoes dragging in slow motion, giggling as if they, too, have had a little too much. An Indian baba meditates on a floating lotus, surrounded by glowing mandalas that pulse with the vivid hues of Van Gogh’s colors, El Greco’s elongated mysticism, and Dali’s absurd, melting dreamscapes.
High above, a sheep with Trump’s unmistakable hairstyle—also stoned—floats through the sky, its wool swirling in vibrant, psychedelic patterns. Its eyes are droopy, and it looks like it’s barely keeping up with reality. Everything around you is bathed in the trippy haze of Van Gogh’s vivid colors, El Greco’s dramatic elongation, and Dali’s surreal, distorted imagination. Meanwhile, Trump’s colossal, stoned face continues to hover overhead, drifting between thoughts, lost in the cosmic fog, as if pondering the mysteries of the universe at half speed.
