TROPHY DROP OFF CENTRE The Trophy I’d Drop at the White House

Bob stood there, camera slung over his shoulder, looking at that gate with the big sign that reads 

“TROPHY DROP OFF CENTRE.”

And Bob thought to himself: Well… if there’s a place for trophies, Bob has ideas.

Now Bob doesn’t show up empty-handed. If Bob is going to drop off a trophy at the White House for Donald Trump, it has to mean something. Not shiny-for-the-shelf something. A story trophy.

After careful thought (and a long walk where Bob pretended to be a tourist), Bob decided exactly what kind of trophy it would be.

The Participation Trophy for the Attention Olympics

Bob would drop off a giant gold participation trophy.

Not first place.

Not second place.

Just a big engraved plate that reads:

“Thanks for Participating in Every News Cycle.”

This trophy would celebrate:

Showing up in every headline, whether invited or not

Turning press conferences into performance art

Winning gold in self-promotion, silver in repetition, and bronze in capitalization

Bob believes participation trophies matter — especially when someone participates in everything.

The “Most Words Spoken, Fewest Answers Given” Cup

This one would be tall. Very tall. The tallest trophy Bob could find.

It would honor:

Answering questions without answering questions

Speaking for 45 minutes to say “we’ll see”

Using ten adjectives where one noun would do

Bob respects endurance. Bob also respects cardio. Talking that long without oxygen is impressive.

The Mirror Trophy (Bob’s Personal Favorite)

This trophy wouldn’t even be gold.

It would just be… a mirror.

Because Bob thinks sometimes the best trophy isn’t something you put on a shelf — it’s something you look into.

Bob would label it:

“For Reflection. Use Daily.”

Bob knows mirrors can be uncomfortable. That’s how you know they’re working.

The Final Trophy: A Camera

Bob would quietly place one last item in the bin.

A simple, well-used camera.

No flash. No filters. No edits.

A note attached:

“For documenting reality, not replacing it.”

Bob believes cameras don’t lie — they just wait patiently for the truth to walk by.

Bob Packs Up and Walks Away

Bob wouldn’t wait for a thank-you.

Bob wouldn’t take a selfie.

Bob would tip his hat, adjust his scarf, and walk back into the crowd like a tourist who saw enough.

Because Bob knows something important:

Trophies don’t change history.

Stories do.

And Bob?

Bob just keeps taking pictures.