Dear Fuckmuppet-Elect

Dear Fuckmuppet-Elect;

I know it’s not like you give a shit what I, or really any American, thinks now that you’ve “won” the election, but that’s really not going to stop me from expressing my opinion. It’s that pesky 1st Amendment shit again. We’re just days away from what is going to be known to future generations as one of the darkest days in American history. The day you are sworn in as Fuckmuppet-in-Chief.  I refuse to call you “President” because you’re truly not a legitimate president.  John Lewis is right to question your legitimacy, you’re just too much of a narcissist to admit he’s right.

I’m not saying “Not my President” in the same way that the delusional birthers and racists did with Obama, but rather from the reality that 1) you didn’t win the popular vote  (which means you’re not the most popular kid in school, again) and 2) the fucking Russians, and 3) (most importantly) there’s not one fucking thing that is presidential about you.   I will also not be watching the inauguration. I will turn every TV set in my house to low rent porn stations rather than give your inauguration the ratings you so desperately crave.

For much of my adult life I worked for a certified con-artist, and that gave me the skill-set to be able to spot a grifter/confidence man/snake oil salesman like you from 30 paces. You ran a campaign based on conning naive people into believing you had their best interests at heart when the reality is you could give a flying fuck about anyone other than yourself. It’s going to be a crying shame when they finally realize you picked their pockets while you shook their hands. Every one of them will regret not having doused themselves in Purell immediately after voting for you. Big Pharma is going to make a fortune when the demand for anti-depressants sky rockets during your tenure.

Every morning this country wakes up to another stupid fucking comment you’ve made on Twitter. It’s amazing that a grown ass man spends as much time tweeting like a teenage girl with an inferiority complex. That you worry more about the mocking you get from a comedy show, than the risk analysis of the Intelligence Community on the ongoing threats to American safety. What’s it like inside your head? Is there room for real rational thought in there? Or is all the space taken up by self-aggrandizement, penis envy, urolagnia, and an obsession with fucking your own daughter? How can you justify uttering the Oath of Office on Friday if you don’t really intend to or know how to honor the commitment?

I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States

The best of your ability will leave us wanting, that’s for sure.

“My friend, you’re weighed in the balance and found wanting
Your kingdom is divided, it can’t stand
You’re weighed in the balance and found wanting
Your houses are built upon the sand”

Sweet Mother of Cheezits I hope someone saves us from you and that it doesn’t turn out to be Mike Pence,

Surly