I address this screed to you as a public service, a testament to my unvarnished convictions concerning the current carnival of cretins, ostensibly led by that puffed-up windbag, President Donald J. Trump. And yes, I leave this here in case you try to understand where I am situated, politically and emotionally. Let me assure you, I am profoundly grateful for you reading these lines.
So, to avoid wasting any of your precious screening time, let’s get straight to the point.
The spectacle of what the US calls governing these days has been a singular horror, a gut-wrenching absurdity that leaves one torn between weeping and hysterical laughter. This incessant, evangelical bellowing of hatred towards anything not carved from the same lump of gold-plated lard is, to borrow from a simpler time, like watching drunken gorillas attempt brain surgery on a poodle, with the Chief Gorilla himself tweeting about ratings.
Their “meritocracy” is a stale punchline. The cabinet, a collection of trust-fund babies and sycophants, suggests the White House is a remedial acting class. The Ringmaster, with his perpetually bronzed hide, plainly confuses the Oval Office with a wrestling match. Consider the recent nominations: Robert F. Kennedy Jr. to HHS, despite vaccine skepticism; Kashyap Patel, an FBI critic, to head the FBI; or Tulsi Gabbard, with no intelligence experience and a history of amplifying Russian propaganda, as DNI.
Values are dispensed with the promiscuity of a streetwalker. Their policies, with their grasping hearts, funnel wealth upwards with the efficiency of a vacuum cleaner for Swiss bank accounts, while simultaneously amputating vital support – healthcare, food – from millions. It’s a grand illusion where human decency vanishes, replaced by a gilded statue atop discarded food stamps. Witness the July 2025 bill: permanent 2017 tax cuts benefiting the wealthiest by $12,000, while simultaneously cutting Medicaid and SNAP, costing the poorest $1,600 annually and leaving millions uninsured. The sheer chutzpah! These economic policies, magnificent engines of prosperity, impoverish vast swathes, severing aid like rusty shears. The stock market thrives, a gilded casino where the house always wins, while the national debt is discussed with the gravitas of a weather report. The only innovation seems to be new methods of extracting coin from those with precious little left.
The bullying and sneering are not strength, but the tantrums of a spoiled brat with a nuclear arsenal. It beggars belief how a man can spew falsehoods like a bursting sewage pipe and still lead millions. It’s a testament to self-deception, or our dismal collective eyesight. Recent polls show 56% of Americans believe the U.S. is in a constitutional crisis, 45% expect total economic collapse, and 74% believe a “deep state” exists. One despairs.
Corruption, once a furtive whisper, is now flaunted with the subtlety of a neon elephant in a coal mine. The dignity of the office is eroded by spectacles like the $TRUMP meme coin launch in January 2025, earning his family nearly $100 million in trading fees, despite his calling crypto a “scam.” Reports of foreign entities investing in his ventures to influence policy, including a Chinese national’s $50 million investment in a Trump crypto venture followed by SEC prosecution steps being discontinued, make Washington and Lincoln spin in their graves with the velocity of a disgraced roulette wheel.
Free speech, that sacred cow, is now conditional. Criticize the regime, or protest with the wrong hue of skin, and the First Amendment becomes as useful as a chocolate teapot. President Trump’s January 2025 executive order broadly cracking down on “antisemitism” on college campuses, threatening federal funding for “illegal” protests, and ICE detaining pro-Palestinian students for speaking out, are stark examples.
It is a profound shame, this decline of respect in leadership. Differentiating the American soul from its grotesque caricature becomes Herculean when a populace compares Kamala Harris with Donald Trump and deems the latter fitter for office. It’s like choosing between a sensible, if somewhat dry, actuarial report and a dumpster fire fueled by old tires and discarded election promises for bedtime reading. One can only assume the collective IQ has vacationed to the Mariana Trench.
I hold these views, Mr. Officer, with the unwavering conviction of a man who has seen too much and suffered too many fools. Let this letter serve as a monument to my position, should my sanity or loyalty ever be questioned by some zealous bureaucrat with a brain filled with sawdust.
Sincerely (and with a profound lack of actual sincerity, considering the circumstances),
D.P. , a perpetually vexed observer of the human tragedy.
P.S. Let it be known that while this epistle was crafted with the aid of artificial intelligence, the sentiments and scathing observations contained herein are unequivocally and unapologetically my own – a testament to my unfiltered disdain for the absurd theater of our times. Heck, I even primed it with my own words, more words in fact than remain standing in this text after careful editing and generation. But it would be disingenuous not to thank these little digital helpers who toiled for me behind the scenes. So, thank you, Mistral; thank you, Gemini. Sorry that I had to every so slightly tone you down.
Recent Comments