Dear Mr. President

I fully expect you are unaware of the origin of the title of this post, or that you will ever actually read it. You don’t read much of anything, and we are all poorer as a result. Reading is for eggheads, or to use your language, for “elites.” So I’m writing for myself, more than anything else. So here goes:

The title for this post comes from a song by an artist named P!nk, and she tore into President George W. Bush a number of years ago. He got re-elected anyway, as you probably already know. But assuming any knowledge on your part is a sucker’s bet, I would imagine.

You don’t know me, and don’t want to know me, either. But you’ll demonize me, in an abstract sense, as a “radical” and a “leftist” and whatever words you’re told will resonate with your base. So long as you get the Electoral College vote you need, you’ll tell any falsehood you can. The culture war paves your road to re-election and the validation that you so desperately seek. The reputations of myself and all of the other anti-Trumpers in this nation are just collateral damage, in your view.

I know, like every other American does, that you have a real complex about Abraham Lincoln. Your strategy appears to be that if you can convince enough of your party that you are in fact Lincoln’s superior as a president, you’ll win a second term. But you couldn’t be more wrong in this assessment.

Today, on the Fourth of July, I went to the tomb where Abraham Lincoln is buried. I placed a penny, as a sign of respect, on a large bust of Lincoln, where popular legend holds that rubbing Lincoln’s nose brings good luck. Imagine that, Mr. President. Will anyone ever seek out your tomb, a century and a half after your death, and seek to get any form of good luck from touching a representation of you in any way? Or will they leave a coin with your likeness on it as a sign of respect?

You can comfort yourself, if you want, with the knowledge that you’ll be dead, and who cares what an elite loser like me would do in 150 years, anyway? Go ahead and think that if it helps your brittle ego, but I can assure you that the answer to both questions will be a resounding “No.”

At best, you’ll be viewed as an error, or a mistake in national judgment that America had to spend decades digging out of. And at worst, well, the name Donald Trump will be forgotten in the way that so many others have been before. Call me a loser if you want to, but I’m guessing that’s what will happen. And, hopefully, my rubbing of Lincoln’s nose today will help to make that happen, too. I very much doubt that Lincoln would want you occupying the bedroom that carries his name for another four years.

May the next Fourth of July find you anywhere but in the Oval Office.


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