An Open Letter to the President-Elect

12 Nov

fuck-you-you-fucking-fuckDear President-Elect Assclown McFuckface:

FUCK YOU! No, seriously, fuck you with a rusty spatula, dipped in battery acid, covered in barbed wire and poison ivy. Fuck you for bullying and mocking just about everyone in this country. Fuck you for empowering bullies like you to feel once again comfortable to open their mouths in public and let the bile pour forth. Fuck you for treating American democracy like a game. Fuck you for making me have to write this. Fuck you for making me have to feel all this churning inside of me, this typhoon of negativity. Fuck you for making my Cubs World Series Honeymoon as short as possible. Fuck you for making any single citizen in this country scared to leave their homes. Fuck you for the absolute misery and terror you’ve created on my Facebook feed. Fuck you, you smegma covered ass monkey, for winning.

Okay, phew, got that out of my system. I know, I know, I’m being mean, even being a bully. But you know what? I don’t care. Because I need to vent. We all do, and I do it here, with mere words, but maybe to someone these words will be meaningful. Maybe they will only be meaningful to me, bestow a modicum of solace for what has befallen us.

For three days I was in arguably the lowest point in my life. After 9/11 at least we came together as a people, were unified in our grief. But this election, your election, you overgrown gangrenous Oompa Loompa, drove me as low as I’ve been in a long time. I had three states of being: drinking, sleeping, and crying. I skipped two days of work. People worried about me. And I could blame you, you overripe cheese rind, but when it comes down to it, I only latched onto your victory as a means to wallow in self-pity. Because no matter how unhealthy pitying oneself may be, it feels good at the time, like cocaine or hate.

Then, yesterday, it dawned on me that I cannot allow myself to feel all of this because of you, you sniveling ratshit candy corn. It gives you too much credit. You don’t own me. You have no power over how I feel. You are simply not worth it. A good friend of mine once told me: “We can choose to be happy.” I vehemently disagreed, as someone who was rarely happy naturally would. Only later did I realize he was right, with a slight modification. We can choose to be miserable, to be closed off from happiness. If we don’t choose misery, however, the happiness will come of itself. We must be open to happiness, must be open to love, to joy. If not, well, then we grow old and tired and bitter. We blame others for our lots in life. We start blaming those who look or speak different. We close ourselves up into our little hate-filled bubbles and consume only the news and opinions that align with our established bitterness.

I don’t want to be bitter. I don’t want to be hateful. I don’t want to fuck my health over, physically, mentally, or spiritually. Speaking of health, how’s yours? I understand you’re 70, overweight, this guy is your doc, and have just taken on the most stress-filled job in the world. Good luck with that. Personally, I’m planning on eating better, exercising more, meditate like a zen fool, gut the vices, and live long enough to see a woman president. A gay president. A Muslim president.

There’s a lot of blame going around right now on my side of the pity party. The DNC fucked up. Hillary didn’t define what she was about. The motherfucking media who equated every vile and offensive thing you said or did to poor email management. I can blame myself for not doing more. Not knocking on doors in Philly like some of my friends did, sacrificing their weekends to ensure that a bloated rotting persimmon did not take over the nuclear codes. I didn’t even write this blog for months, no matter how little it may have changed things. I got complacent. Many of us did.

Yeah, well, not anymore, you bag of leprous bile masquerading as a man. Because even though you got something like 59 million votes, let me tell you something – there are more of us than there are of you. And, yes, I know that I am speaking from the safe confines of New York City. I know that there are people out there who are literally scared of their neighbors right now. I know as a white, straight, male I have no right to tell anyone that it’s “Going to be all right.” Those words are hollow coming from anyone, let alone me. What I will say is that we will do our damnedest to stop you from any of your hate filled plans. You may look at me and laugh and scoff and say, “Oh, look at this silly Jew who thinks he can change the world.” You know, you’re right. This silly Jew does not think he can change the world. He thinks we can. There is power in numbers, and ours are growing. You may have won the battle, but the war has only just begun.

To quote Nasty Princess Leia: “The more you tighten your grip, the more star systems will slip through your fingers.”

But you aren’t even worthy of being compared to Grand Moff Tarkin. Or Darth Vader or Palpatine. You’re more like Jabba the Hutt who got bored with smuggling and decided, shit, why not run for Emperor. I can’t even compare you to Hitler. Hitler was actually good at his job when you think about it. You are a two-bit huckster, a carnival barker, a know-nothing. You failed at everything in your life except winning the presidency, but I can guarantee you that you will fail at that job too.

Maybe this is all me deflecting. Maybe I’m still in denial. Maybe I wake up tomorrow in a heap of tears. But I don’t think so. Your election literally made me sick to my stomach. But here’s the thing – you are about to have the worst four years of your life. You’ll be trapped in that big mansion with your sycophantic advisors. Every day there will be another crisis. At some point you are going to have to address the American people on national television, console us for a terrorist attack or mass shooting. And we will watch, because that is our duty as citizens. But we will see through you, you overflowing bedpan of shit and Sunny D.

You will be a one-term do-nothing footnote. Not just because you are literally the most unqualified being to ever hold that office, but because you’ve got a lot of pissed off voters out here who will not stand idly by as you rape our country.

We will march and show solidarity in numbers. We will contribute to Planned Parenthood, the ACLU, the Southern Poverty Law Center, Black Lives Matter, Human Rights Campaign. We will organize. We will run for office. We will write blog posts that no one reads. You fucking idiot, you thought you just woke the sleeping giant of scared middle-aged white dudes. You also woke us up. Congrats, you fat marmalade encrusted armadillo, you literally have no idea how bad this is going to be for you.

Sincerely,

Jacob Mendelsohn

An American

One Response to “An Open Letter to the President-Elect”

  1. Kiko Jones November 12, 2016 at 22:02 #

    Amen.

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