Rreserrected 10/06/2023

 

Blast (sic) from the Past This post was written in 2020, as COVID-19 raged and the presidential race was forming up. I persent it now so all of us can pause, and reflect on the many, wonderful things that have happened, since then.

 

Dear Donald

 

 

Before I began this letter I knew I would have to speak to you about things that matter, to you. Ah, but what might they be? Lots of people have said the only thing the Donald cares about is the Donald. It's truth notwithstanding, it does not fill the bill; does not reveal some of the things that turn your crank. And those things do exist, or... maybe you really are an android, from hell?

It was in that manner I was dragged, kicking and screaming, into researching who you are. I found a life of privilege, and ease. I thought when I could select one word that summarizes you, my research would be complete.

Well, Donald, that word is playboy. NOT Casanova. Playboy.

As my perception formed I paused to think what the life of a playboy would be like. Money, is power. I know what power is.

Power is the ultimate test. Power will show you what's wrong with YOU, quicker than any other thing, of which I am aware. Those so foolish as to seek power, and so unfortunate as to find it, are headed for a fall. Those to whom power comes, seemingly unbidden, are usually fit, to wield it. That's when I got scared.

You were born, into power (money). As kids like me said, It will take a month of my wages from my paper route to pay for the new baseball mitt I want you said, Send Jarvis into town. Tell him to bring back the ten coolest baseball mitts he can find. I'll look them over this evening, after dinner.

There was never any risk, was there, Donald? You knew you would be OK, no matter what happened. There were never any consequences, where there, Donald? You've never been sick and tired of doing your paper route in the hot sun but done it anyway because, if you didn't, you could not have the mitt. Or get milk, for your kid.

No. Oh, No! I do not envy you, Donald. Instead I am among the millions, all over this planet, that can not help but see just how badly your position, and your place have screwed you up. I know. You think you're doing just fine. Great, in fact. What you think does not matter, right now.

Politician. Necessary skills include accurately assessing what the people think of you and knowing how to improve their perception, of you. If you have those skills, Donald, you hide them well. Really well.

I understand. You never intended to be a politician, Donald. That's why you have not attained the basic skills necessary, in order to become one. The Presidency fell on you like a windfall, from above. When there are no risks and no consequences nobody is serious, about anything. Admit it, Donald. You became president, on a lark.

I believe you had little idea of what it is to be President. Did you see yourself, high on a white horse, leading your nation in charge after charge, whooping up on army, after foreign army? Sorry, Donald.

I understand why you groove on Vladimir Putin, and Xi Jinping. They are as close to what you want to become as you have seen. You want to get close to them; to study them; to try to figure them out. You probably know they already have you figured out; that they out-class you like the space shuttle, exceeds a bic lighter! But it's OK, Donald, because, after all, there are no consequences.

If you did not know things change, after the new wears off, I'll wager you do now. I can only imagine how you felt as you ascended, to the throne. How far did you fall? How hard did you hit? After the dust settled, you found that being President is WORK.

Playboys don't work! Let's not be silly, now.

Early on you became unpopular with those that surrounded you because you would not do the WORK, involved in being President. You refused to read your daily briefings. When they were read to you, you paid them little mind. You were looking for some play; some fun. And I think you've had some.

Behind the Playboy, Donald, I see Loki, lurking. You have treated the Presidency exactly as you have all the larks your life of privilege, and ease has afforded you. You take none of this seriously. Having experienced risk, nor consequence, how can you?

(Don't know who Loki is? CLICK HERE )

How many of the more than one hundred and sixty thousand Americans (as of this writing), dead of COVID, would still live, if not for your antics, Donald? How many more will die because of your failure to set the mechanisms, known to defeat this disease, in motion? Are you really a demon, from hell? I don't think so. You're too much of a wimp, for that. Instead, I see Loki.

Because of the power he wielded, Loki is King of clowns. The few that did not have to suffer because of his actions may have thought he was hilarious. He was still a clown, Donald, and as such, is he remembered.

I was able to find only one thing that may point to what matters, to you. Your little light really shined during the rallies you held, all across this country! Before the poor, pathetic people you conned, by telling them what they wanted to hear, you were in your element.

The party's over, Donald. You know it. I know it. Everybody knows it. People have been standing up and leaving for quite a while, now. Servers are removing the place settings, and cleaning up the mess. Now the question becomes: How will you pass the rest of the night?

Face it. You and your doppelganger, Loki, have had your fun. You don't like being President. The people around you think you should work. Their problem is obvious: They don't know who you are.

Another thing that comes with being President is the certainty that history will not ignore a Grand Gentleman, in the classic style, such as yourself, Donald, though you may wish it had. The Donald may not have seen the risk, as he took it; may have unwittingly chosen the step that guaranteed he, and his works, will be remembered and finally made consequences real, for him.

Will history record you as a bungling clown (at the very most) who killed two hundred thousand Americans with his stupidity? The only thing that will prevent the people of the future from assigning the title of "The Clown President" to you will be the fact that what you did was not funny. In the least.

Maybe I hit my mark. Maybe the way you will be remembered does matter, to you. If not, hey, I gave it my best shot.

In order to prevent your eternal damnation, in history books, you have a lot to do and there is little time left, in which to do it.

First, you must step down. You can not be beaten in an election, if you do not run. Just be (gasp) honest. Say, look, I'm not enjoying being President, and I don't want to do this four more years. It's that simple. Then you retire, a winner, as you spare us the tedium of a doddering old fool that will come for our guns as he installs socialism, in our country. Not that you care, about that.

Doing the above will only begin to remove the curse, from your Presidency. Like the kid who had to deliver those papers, you are going to have to do some work. Now it is you who will be dragged, kicking and screaming, into the world most of us inhabit. I say it looks good on you.

The price for a strong finish that may, and I say may attract history's attention from the farce that was your first three and a half years in office, is to get your sorry ass in gear and do what you should have done, months ago, which is to put the mechanisms known to defeat COIVD in place, and to do it at warp speed. You can save many American lives, in the process. Not that you care, about that.

So, Donald, will you be remembered as someone that delivered, when the chips were down, or will you be the biggest, most disgusting turd ever to emerge from the sewers, of Washington DC?

Look, Donald, you're not Vladimere Putin. You never will be. You're not Xi Jinping, and you never will be. You will always be the Donald. You're just like the rest of us (I choked on that one!) and being the Donald is your blessing, and your curse. Same here. So, in the meantime, give it a REST, how 'bout it?

We're trying to run a country, here. You had your fun; your lark. Now, get the FUCK out of the way, so we can try to clean up the... boondoggle you created.

You're lucky I don't run things. If I did you would be the first man in well over a hundred years to be tarred, feathered and run out of town, on a rail. If I was in a good mood, that day. If not I would see you drawn, and quartered, on the White House lawn!

 

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I make no excuse for using videos on my site. If someone, or something else can say what I want to say, better than I can say it, great! And so, by your leave, I present my summation of what has happened, since this post was written.