Dear Mr. President:
You’ve a handsome
young son to raise, and many grandchildren for whom to serve as both
inspiration and mentor. There is much golf to be played, and many foreign
leaders to be mocked in poignant tweets, and allies almost beyond counting
still to be alienated. There’s your beautiful young(ish) wife to be satisfied. Only
a person of your superhuman virility could keep up with such a schedule.
Not, sir, that you
want to. You have long since proven that you are the ultimate winner. How many
of your fellow billionaires have been elected president? How many of your
fellow television stars have woken in the morning thinking, “I’m the most
powerful person in the world”? None is how many, sir. Zero. You have redefined
winning!
Magnificent though you
are, sir, no one is good at everything. May I, with the utmost respect, suggest
that you allow me, a professional writer for decades, supply you with a first
draft of your resignation letter, with the understanding that I shall revise it
in accordance with whatever you suggestions you’re able to concentrate long
enough to make, and then give you full credit for it?
Dear Fellow Americans:
In the 130-or-whatever
days I’ve been your president, I’ve accomplished more than Lincoln, Andrew
Jackson, Frederick Douglass, both Roosevelts, both Bushes, and both Clintons did
in their collective full terms. My time in office has been marked by
tremendous, amazing accomplishments. I fired missiles at Syria while eating chocolate
cake; that’s how effortless it was for me! I got us out of the Paris whatever,
the environment thing the coal miners didn’t like. I saved millions and
millions of jobs. I almost got Obamacare repealed. I met the Pope and patted the
Wailing Wall. I put Angela Merkel, who’s s un-hot it isn’t even funny, in her
place. I shoved that dude from Montenegro or wherever out of the way, and in so
doing demonstrated that America isn’t going to stand behind anybody anymore. I did
a fantastic job.
I did a fantastic job,
and all this after winning the election in an historic landslide even after
nine million Latinos and whatever snucked illegally into the country to vote
for Crooked Hillary, and even after being inaugurated and whatever before the
biggest viewing audience in the history of viewing. I appointed an incredible,
phenomenal Cabinet, and that Supreme Court guy. Neil Armstrong? Is that his
name? I did a fantastic job, and all this while not missing a single one of my
youngest son Bannon’s Little League games, and not failing to read him a
bedtime story every night even though a lot of people are saying he’s old
enough to read his own now because he inherited my brains. I did a fantastic
job, and my first trimester in office has been marked by tremendous, amazing
accomplishments.
And what have I gotten
for my trouble? A lot of tsouris
is what! Made fun of by a lot of losers and haters and whatever. Mocked; isn’t
that the word? Told that even after sitting through more boring “briefings” in
a week than anyone should have to sit through in a lifetime, I wasn’t entitled
to “unwind” on the golf course. And all the while I’ve got dweeby little Rinse
Previous or whatever his name is telling me that my poll numbers are down and
that the optics, whatever the hell they are, of my flying down to Mar-a-Lago
again will make them go down even farther.
So you know what? I’m
out of here. You chose me by a huge, huge, incredible margin over Lyin’ Ted
Cruz, and who you’re going to be left with is God-Fearin’ Mike Pence. Well,
have fun with him, losers and haters, and his lovely wife Mother, or whatever
her real name is. I can just picture the Pope holding onto her hand a couple of seconds too long!
I am resigning to spend
more time with my family. I want to get to know even my younger daughter, whose
name I forget, who you’d think would be a lot hotter than she is, considering
that Marla was around a 12 out of 10 when I left Ivana for her. And I want to spare
my little boy Bannon any more bashing in the media. He doesn’t deserve it. He’s
just a kid.
What? It’s that disgusting pig Mr. Ginblossom, they’ve been bashing? My boy’s name is spelled with R’s, and not
N’s? And Kellyanne didn’t say anything?
I am so out of here.
