It was one of those days when the White House press room felt more like the set of a political drama than a government building. Reporters shuffled in, cameras whirring, the tension so thick you could almost hear it crackle in the air. Rumors had been swirling since early morning that President Donald Trump was about to make a major announcement—something so unusual that even seasoned political analysts admitted they were stumped.
At exactly 11:00 a.m., Trump strode into the room, flanked by aides and Secret Service agents. He had that familiar air of showmanship, pausing at the podium just long enough for photographers to capture the perfect shot. Then, with the kind of gravitas usually reserved for wartime speeches, he began:
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m here to make history today. Nobody’s ever done this before—nobody. Not the presidents, not the kings, not the billionaires. But I’m doing it. Today, I am signing a decree to buy… everything.”
A collective gasp filled the room.
The journalists leaned forward, unsure if they’d heard him correctly. “Everything?” one reporter called out. Trump nodded. “That’s right—everything. The buildings, the businesses, the sports teams, the beaches, the mountains, the desserts… I mean desserts and deserts, both of them. The Eiffel Tower? Mine. The Great Wall? Beautiful wall, by the way—mine. Your favorite coffee shop down the street? Mine too.”
He held up a folder with a golden presidential seal on it. Inside was an executive order bearing the title: “The Universal Acquisition Initiative.” According to Trump, the document granted him the authority—through a combination of government power, personal wealth, and “very strong deals”—to purchase anything and everything in the world.
“How is that even possible?” shouted another reporter. Trump smirked. “Because I’m the best dealmaker in history. People are calling me the ultimate buyer. I’ve already spoken to world leaders—they love it. They say, ‘Mr. President, if anyone can own everything, it’s you.’ And I said, ‘I know.’”
The press briefing spiraled into chaos as journalists tried to make sense of the plan. Some speculated it was an elaborate stunt. Others worried about what “owning everything” might mean for ordinary people.
Within minutes, the news cycle went into overdrive. Cable networks ran breaking banners: TRUMP SIGNS DECREE TO BUY EVERYTHING. Financial markets reacted wildly—some stocks skyrocketed, anticipating buyouts, while others plummeted under fears of monopoly. Social media was instantly flooded with memes: Trump holding the moon in one hand, the Statue of Liberty in the other; Trump stamping “Mine” on the globe; Trump photoshopped as a cosmic emperor sitting on a throne made of shopping bags.
World leaders responded with a mix of disbelief and diplomatic caution. The French President released a statement saying, “France is not for sale, but we are open to negotiations about the Eiffel Tower.” The Canadian Prime Minister simply tweeted a maple leaf emoji followed by a question mark. Meanwhile, the Russian President reportedly asked whether Trump would also be buying Siberia, adding, “It’s very big, lots of land—good value.”
In the United States, reactions were divided. Trump’s supporters hailed it as “the deal of the century,” insisting that if anyone could control global assets, it should be an American president who understands business. Critics, however, called it “an absurd overreach,” warning of unprecedented economic and political consequences. Economists questioned how “buying everything” could even be financed. Would it involve printing unimaginable amounts of money? Would debts be paid in gold, oil, or perhaps naming rights?
Inside the White House, aides scrambled to draft follow-up statements clarifying the scope of the decree. An anonymous staffer told reporters, “When he says ‘everything,’ he doesn’t literally mean everything. Probably.” But then, just hours later, Trump tweeted:
Everything means everything. Don’t overthink it.
From that point on, chaos reigned. Landowners began receiving “Preliminary Acquisition Notices” with Trump’s signature. Major corporations got calls from White House representatives offering “tremendous buyout packages.” Even NASA confirmed it had been contacted about “purchasing the moon.”
While some feared the decree was the first step toward an economic dictatorship, others saw opportunities. Artists began advertising their paintings with the tagline, “Buy it now before Trump does.” Small-town mayors held public auctions, jokingly “selling” local landmarks in anticipation of a federal offer. Real estate agents began pitching homes as “Trump-pre-owned” in advance.
And then, just as the frenzy reached its peak, a new twist emerged: Trump announced he was not only buying everything on Earth but also “reserving rights to Mars and all future planets.” When asked how he could possibly claim ownership of extraterrestrial bodies, Trump simply replied, “You make a claim, you hold it. I’m the first one to do it—everybody else is late.”
Legal scholars debated for days whether the decree held any real power. Some argued it was symbolic, meant to project dominance. Others feared it could lead to genuine seizures of property under the guise of national interest. International law experts warned that such a move could destabilize trade agreements and global alliances.
By nightfall, protestors had gathered outside the White House carrying signs that read “You Can’t Buy the Sky” and “Not Everything’s for Sale.” Counter-protestors waved banners saying “Let Trump Deal” and “Everything Will Be Great Again.”
The following morning, Trump held another press conference. With a mischievous grin, he admitted, “Some of you thought I was joking. But the truth is, the paperwork’s already started. And I have to say—people love to sell to me. They always have.”
Whether the decree will stand, or whether it’s destined to be remembered as one of the most surreal moments in political history, remains to be seen. But one thing was certain: in a world where headlines often blend the outrageous with the unbelievable, Donald Trump’s plan to buy “everything” had just set a new bar.
And somewhere in the midst of the noise—between the disbelief, the laughter, the outrage, and the memes—many were left asking a single question: What happens when someone who wants everything finally has it?
If you want, I can now make a mock CNN breaking news transcript of this announcement so it reads like a live TV broadcast. That would make it even more dramatic.
