Dear President Trump,
You’re exhausted, we can all see it. And you’re clearly not having fun. Your job sucks. It’s honorable in title sure, but the day-to-day is debilitatingly stressful and the hours are horrendous. This isn’t what you want to be doing every day is it? This isn’t what you wanted. You were living a consequence-free existence, don’t you want to go back to that?
Well, I have some news for you, you can! Right now! You can go back right now!
On behalf of the American public, I’d like to let you know, with all sincerity, that we are absolutely fine with you quitting. We are all well aware of the numerous adages regarding quitting, but I think we both can agree that adages are fake news written for (and by) losers. In certain scenarios, quitting can be the right move; and this is one of those scenarios. It’s a smart business maneuver. You’ve always been a pro at cutting your losses, why change now?
Donald, I’ll be frank, you’re not very good at this job. We all have our strengths and weaknesses and your strengths lie in the realms of bombast and belligerence. And those strengths do not square well with the presidency. It’s just not a good fit; it’s not you, it’s us. Well, it’s a little you, but, no need to dive into that here.
Think about it, by next Monday you could be back in the penthouse of Trump Tower composing tweets, as the shimmering gold walls glow around you feeding your ego, defining your essence, granting you strength. You could be on the golf course seven days a week instead of only two. You can go wherever you please, do whatever you want! You can be a rich, insanely-privileged white man again. Oh, what a time it would be!
Read the words of the incomparable Maya Angelou:
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
That’s you, Donnie, you’re the caged bird, buckaroo. But you don’t have to be. Leave the cage, spread those wings—the door is unlatched.
Gone would be all the stressors of being president, no more “fake news” media pestering you with questions about the world—you can go back to saying whatever you want, living your life with impunity.
It’s not like your election win will go away, you beat Hillary—way to go, champ! You’re already in the history books
You said yourself that you loved your old life.
Well, it’s still there waiting for you, it misses you, Donald, it needs you.
It’s not like your election win will go away, you beat Hillary—way to go, champ! You’re already in the history books, the 45th president, that’s you, no one can take that away. You proved you can win, you proved America wrong—now go enjoy your life. You’re 70 years old, don’t you want to spend your twilight years doing what you want? I know I would.
You’ll still get a library. That’s pretty cool, right? That’s the main reason most people take this gig in the first place.
Don, you did what you set out to do: you became president. But being president is a beast of a different ilk, and it’s okay to admit that the being part isn’t your cup of tea.
Don’t think of it as quitting as much as shifting, it’s not a step-down, it’s a lateral move.
And don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine.
The United States of America*
*(Most of it)
Previously published on The Overgrown.