[WRITER'S
NOTE - Yes, this is the second Trump-related post in the same month,
and I'm not entirely thrilled on it, either. However, in remembering past
endeavors, I missed moments to state my opinion while the subject was
still topical. While I understand that the Trump presidency
will remain topical for a great deal of time to come, I do not intend to
turn this 'project' into a permanent beacon against a President I have
little faith in. Let the historians and politicians provide deeper
analysis of his coming actions. For now, these are words that I wanted
to say twelve hours ago, but sleep overtook me before I could write
them. - DF]
Dear President Trump,
Well, here we are. Months removed from a (still) very touchy election, the “elect” part of your title has been dropped and you are now the commander in chief of the United States of America.
Well, here we are. Months removed from a (still) very touchy election, the “elect” part of your title has been dropped and you are now the commander in chief of the United States of America.
The oath has been given and recited
and, from here on out, every single move you make will be watched;
every single word you speak will be analyzed; every action you take
will be criticized. And gone is your ability to make snap Twitter
responses; the President is not afforded the luxury of rash decisions
that we common folk are.
Everyone
will be watching you: The 62.9
million people who did vote for you, the 72.1 million who did not,
the 45.6 per cent of eligible voters who didn't vote for reasons that
are their own, our allies and adversaries around the world, the
historians,
the comedians, the conspiracy theorists... everyone. Watching you
like a hawk. You are no longer private citizen Trump, you are the
“leader of the free world,” and their gaze shall be long and their judgment unforgiving.
With all the doom-saying that's been
happening, I would imagine that there are some today who are
surprised that the sky is not descending upon us... I am not one. The
sky is still above, the earth below, and we continue to spin around
our burning ball of plasma. That is enough to give me some semblance
of hope.
But not much.
I will be as honest with you as I can:
I don't think you will make it; I strongly believe that you lack the
proper temperament and the strength of character to be President, and
that you will crack and warp under the constraints of your position.
From my standpoint, you came off as the petulant child who wanted to
play with his kid-neighbor's toy and screamed until the whole
neighborhood banded together and made them let you. From my
perspective, you were the scraggly dog that barked so loud that the
car you were chasing stopped just so it would shut you up as you
wondered what to do with it. From my eyes, you were me when I was
child... and I was a detestable little shit.
If you make it through half of your
first term, I will be shocked and surprised.
Yet, after being forced to witness
every disgruntled and thin-skinned comment that your spring-loaded
fingers and your Gatling gun mouth have thrown into the æther
of our existence, I have powerful doubts.
You have the grandest of opportunities
now, Mr. President, and I sincerely hope you make the most of it, but
as Ian Holm said as he was playing “Ash” in Alien: “I can't lie
to you about your chances, but... you have my sympathies.”
History shall judge, Mr. President.
History will always judge.
Please, I implore you... prove me wrong.
Regards,
David Fisher
Chief Everything at Misanthropy And
Cupcakes
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