A Letter to Donald Trump

Okay, okay I’m sorry. I’m ashamed, honestly. My very first post, and I’m already dipping into my Trump reserves. I promise this blog won’t be all Trump, but he’s just this big orange blob, just waiting for me to smack him in the face, and it’s just so hard to resist. Again, I apologize.

“Oh no she didn’t!”
-Donald Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

Bless you, my dear man. God bless you. Honestly, honestly, I am unasbashed to admit: you are the entire reason I watch/ engage in any semblance of political discussion. YOU have singlehandedly revived an incredible amount of interest in our political system, so kudos to you. No really, I’m being very serious. People WILL be heading out to the voting booths next November, so they can vote for anyone but you, but you’ll have really raised voter turn out, and I have to give you major props for that.

Now sir, I have to ask, is this whole campaign thing for real? Do you really want to be the president? You do realize that you would actually have to work?

But, Mr. Trump, really, you must realize that being president suuuuuckkkkkss. Look at Obama’s approval ratings: half the country despises the poor guy. Granted, you’re at like a 73% despisal rating already, but do you really want that to get higher? And I just don’t understand why you would give up your life to work all day. Dude, you live THE LIFE. You’re rich, buddy. Really freaking rich. Don’t you have a gold plated helicopter or something? The presidential helicopter is not that nice. What do you do all day? Lounge around with you seven wives? That’s over. And, think about what you have to do when you’re done being the president. It’s all charity work. Come on man, charity?! Donald Trump gives to no one! Especially not starving children. Listen, if they can’t even feed themselves, what’s worth saving?

We will, we will, Barack you.

I guess I should explain why I’m so worried about you being president. I am a huuuuggeee fan of yours, have been since I was five years old. I would absolutely hate to see you destroyed, reduced to a mere shadow of your swaggering self. But’s that’s what the presidency does to a man. I hate to keep using President Obama as an example, because I like the guy, but look how much grey hair he’s gotten since he started the gig. Wow. That’s stress grey, not age grey. I don’t think I could bear it if your hair went grey, Don. It would just be too sad. 

But Don, don’t despair! You have accomplished so much! Take, for instance, your stunning Trump tower. Dominating the New York City skyline, it has truly come to be regarded as one of the finest pieces of architecture of our time. Who am I kidding, your tower stands as one of the greatest architectural accomplishments in human history. Who the heck are the Egyptians? Losers. (please read out loud in your signature Trump accent) You’re all fired. What do you think will stand the test of time? The pyramids (boooring), or the Trump Tower? Pretty obvious to me.

But your tower, oh your beloved tower, does not even stand in comparison to the legacy that you have built for yourself. The Art of the Deal. What a book. I’ve read it eight times now. The only book I’ve read more is the Bible.

And your beautiful wife Melania, who looks like she’s 45, oh wait she is. I’m amazed you’ve managed to find someone as orange as yourself, but I love it so much, #otp. And Ivanka! A beautiful girl. One can only hope she will find someone as rich as you to support her when you die. Or at least someone to balance her checkbooks. No, you know what, that was a cheap shot. Just because you’re stupid, does not mean Ivanka is. I apologize.

So, in conclusion, Mr. Trump, I love you. Please keep insulting everyone, and doing your thing. Just don’t expect to be president, because I don’t think you would enjoy it.



And now, noble reader, treat yourself to this video:


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