Can I call you Donald? I don’t know, and quite frankly, I don’t care. It’s your birthday, Donald, and I won’t wish you a happy birthday, because for you to be happy several other people must be miserable. Instead, I wish you a thoughtful, reflective birthday, one where you stop flying back and forth between Mar-a-lago and the White House and consider where you yourself actually feel at peace. If it’s in Mar-a-lago, on a golf course smoozing with some other businessmen, maybe you should be doing that with your life instead of trying to lead a country. Truthfully, I know the American people would prefer this as well, because, as you and I both know, you’re really not very good at this at all. You’re not necessarily a good businessman either, but at least when you’re in real estate, the effect you have on the lives of every single person in our country is minimized.
You mentioned once that you didn’t realize health insurance would be this difficult. I feel like you didn’t realize that being president would be difficult as well. I don’t know what you’d thought it would be like, but I imagine you didn’t think most of the country would hate you. We do, though, and I know that has to suck. It sucks for us as well, because every morning we wake up and check our phones to find out what new and terrible way you’ve found overnight to blatantly disregard democratic norms. We’re tired, Donald. We’ve been doing this less than half a year now, and already we’re pooped. Aren’t you tired, Donald? Don’t you miss being able to conduct your shady business deals without being investigated for colluding with Russia? Don’t you miss being the Donald Trump of Home Alone 2, part of the “ultimate New York” package? We miss that Donald, the one who was still not a particularly nice person, but someone we didn’t have to worry about constantly. I think about you every day, and I weep.
It’s not too late. We can go back to how it used to be, back to the halcyon days when your existence wasn’t a blight on humanity. I would love to forget all about this- maybe you and I and the entirety of the human race can get that treatment from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless mind and it’ll be like this never happened. You won’t even remember getting mocked at the White House Correspondents Dinner- like it never happened. Of course, we’ll have to have someone retain their memory, as to remind people not to make fun of you again- if necessary, that is a sacrifice I am willing to make. Just please, stop. I beseech you. Put this presidency out of its misery.
From the bottom of my heart,