Title: “Operation Self-Deportation: The $35K Getaway”
It all began one steamy Florida afternoon in a Miami juice bar called “Smoothies & Schemes,” where a very odd meeting took place. Sitting around a plastic flamingo table were Elon Musk, Marco Rubio, a retired Bulgarian weightlifter named Svetlana, and a dozen more residents—all with one thing in common:
They weren’t born in America.
Elon was sipping on a kale-pineapple rocket fuel blend. “Gentlemen,” he said, “I’ve crunched the numbers. Trump’s offering $35,000 to anyone not born in the U.S. who voluntarily gets deported. That’s per person. If I round up just the people from my last company party, I can net $3.5 million and still keep my seat on the board.”
Marco Rubio raised an eyebrow. “But I’m a Senator,” he whispered. “Shouldn’t I stay?”
Elon replied, “Think bigger, Marco. You can leave, collect the cash, and come back as ‘Canadian Marco 2.0’. New passport, new name. Call yourself… Rubino.”
Marco nodded slowly. “Rubino. That sounds expensive. I like it.”
Word of the “Deportation Bonus” spread faster than a Florida man on a jet ski. Trump had announced during a surprise press conference outside a Waffle House:
“Folks, it’s simple. We fix immigration and stimulate the economy. I’m personally paying $35,000 to any non-American-born resident who gets deported. I’ll even Venmo it. It’s gonna be yuuuge. I’m calling it: Operation Bye-Bye Bonus.”
Back in Miami, Elon began building a rocket-powered party bus labeled “Deportation Express” to help speed things up.
Even celebrities got in on it.
Rihanna applied. “Barbados needs me again.”
Arnold Schwarzenegger submitted paperwork: “I’ll be back… but richer.”
Half of Silicon Valley booked one-way flights to Luxembourg. The other half launched a startup called GetPaidToGoNow.com.
At Trump HQ, things got chaotic. His accountant broke down during a press conference, shouting, “He’s trying to write off deportations as charitable donations!”
Meanwhile, Marco Rubio (sorry, Rubino) posted an Instagram photo from a beach in Malta holding his $35,000 check and a coconut drink. “Thanks, Donny!” he captioned it, followed by 14 flags and a flamingo GIF.
Elon went even further—he launched himself into orbit with a banner that read, “Thanks for the cash, I’m now Martian-born.” He livestreamed it on X, formerly known as Twitter, formerly known as not Elon’s playroom.
Three months later, immigration records showed an unprecedented spike in “voluntary strategic self-deportations,” most involving first-class tickets, champagne toasts, and people shouting, “Make Deportation Great Again!”
Trump stood proudly at another rally.
“I paid to get rid of them… and now everyone wants to leave. It’s a beautiful thing. Even I’m thinking about leaving. If I wasn’t born here, I’d pay myself!” I might think about getting rid of the Mrs!!!
And somewhere in a quiet jungle villa, Rubino sipped his drink, checked his offshore account, and said, “Best vote I ever cast.”
America was confused. The IRS was horrified. But everyone agreed on one thing:
That was the most profitable deportation scheme in history.
