Sweet Relief

 

Thank God.

 

Thank God.

 

Thank God. 

 

The Dark Ages are over.

 

Oh thank God. 

Fear of Bernie

I find it wildly amusing that Democrats are apparently terrified of Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders and his (gasp) socialism. Never mind that perhaps two out of ten Americans could even explain what socialism is.

To blunt its headlong march across the United States, they last Tuesday turned to former Vice-President Joe Biden and clutch at him like a child does a favorite stuffed animal. “Save us, Joe!”

Kindly ignore the fact that of the six candidates recently pursuing the Democratic nomination, only Biden has an Achilles heel (his son's lucrative position with a Ukrainian energy company) Donald Trump can stand on and mercilessly exploit until November.

But at least we won't be subsumed by Bernie Sanders' socialism.

We can stretch out, fold our hands behind our heads and relax in the radiant warmth of four more years of Donald Trump and his oligarchy's rape and pillage.

I have never desired more-urgently to be wrong.

Free Advice (And a Business Opportunity) for Our President!

Dear President Trump,

As a caring, feeling American, it pains me to see you twist in the wind as you refuse to acknowledge the protocols of your position and instead pretend the White House is just another boardroom in the Trump business empire.

You are a CEO. And a very wealthy man. You aren't used to having people tell you what to do. Hell, the closest you ever got to a cabinet before reaching 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue was when you asked the maid to fetch you a Twinkie. 

Because you are such a wealthy and powerful man, people attempt to curry favor with you. This happens so often that you have come to expect it. In fact, you're put-off when it doesn't happen. When was the last time you picked-up a check or reached for your wallet, anyway? 

(This is probably a good thing, because I imagine it's quite heavy. And as America's oldest-ever president you aren't as limber—or as strong—as you used to be, are you?)

So. Like I said, I'm an American who cares. So I'm going to celebrate the Fourth of July by offering my president (that's you) some free advice. Don't even think of reaching for your wallet (not that you ever would).

In the restless, dark nights of your presidency, you Tweet about witch hunts and fake news and how nobody loves you. I don't think it's stretching the truth to say that since becoming president, every day must seem like Halloween. Grotesque and horrible days full of people who don't bow and scrape like employees, unwilling to display the blind obedience you have come to feel is your birthright.

That's rough.

Okay, Mr. President, put the phone down. I know—the ADHD is kicking in. I'll get to the point.

Mr, President, the point is this. If you're tired of witch hunts have you ever considered not being a witch? Have you considered adapting to the office instead of petulantly demanding that it adapt to you?

Have you considered growing up?

Have you considered not sharing every single thought that passes between your ears? Do you realize it was the so-called fake media who informed me last November that you would be my next president?

Is that fake news? And if so, does it mean you're not?

Have you considered that for over two-hundred years this country has survived very well without you?

As hard as it is to imagine Mr. President, some things are bigger than you. Like the office you inhabit. In fact, it's even bigger than your child-like sense of self-importance.

Yes Mr. President, once upon a time your father called you son. But that doesn't mean the planet revolves around you.

Finally, I'd like to get to that business opportunity I spoke of. Don't worry—no contracts or handshakes are expressed or implied.

Have you ever considered starting-up a winery? Because I think you'd be a natural. I mean, five months into your presidency, it couldn't be more clear that you and wine go together like shit and stink.

I even have a name: The Trump Whinery.

Just sayin', Mr. President. Enjoy your Fourth.

Best Regards,

La Piazza Gancio