The Swamp logo

Dear Donald: So Long, and Thanks for All the Shit

An open letter wishing that you and your name may forever be remembered as a sickening skid mark on the proverbial boxer-briefs of history.

By Jack Anderson KeanePublished 3 years ago 12 min read
1
Dear Donald: So Long, and Thanks for All the Shit
Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

Dear Donald,

This is an open letter addressed to you, imagining a world in which you actually cared to read words on a page. Maybe get somebody to read this out to you like the world's worst audiobook? Or like a bedtime story for the world's oldest, brattiest, stupidest infant. Which is you, Donald. I'm talking about you. I'm insulting you explicitly. I'm calling you stupid and bad, because you are, and you know you are, and you like that you are, because that's all you've ever been.

On January 20th, 2021, four ungodly-long years after you were unbelievably bestowed the role of President Of The United States - a title which, in a fair and sane world, it should never have been remotely possible for you to ever get your stubby, grubby little fingers on - you, Donald J. Trump, will finally (finally!!) be officially relinquished of your duties as leader of the free world. (Not that you ever fulfilled your duties as commander in chief, as you've never done things that are in service in something greater than yourself, because you're a petulantly selfish, tiny toadstool-dicked douchebag.)

Joe Biden will be sworn in in your stead as President.

Kamala Harris will take the place of your House of Wax reject puppy-dog simp, Mike Pence.

And at long last, the White House cleaners will be able to swoop in after you, and Febreeze the ever-living fuck out of all those fast-food farts you've left noxiously lingering in the opulent confines of the Oval Office.

(FUN FACT: It's ovular because it gives you no corners to hide in, which is a metaphor about presidential responsibility, you imbecilic grain-sized tiny-brained twat!)

But alas, the ignominious stench of deep disgrace, disarray, disillusionment, disaster, and division that was reaped and sown by your endless torrent of stupid words and hateful deeds?

All the air-fresheners in the world could not wipe out the odious odour of that much moral decay.

What will happen to you next, Donald?

(See, I'm repeating your name so you stay focused, Donald, because I know you have the attention span of a goldfish with a head wound, Donald, and you're so self-absorbed, Donald, that you'll only listen to something for any extended period of time so long as you see or hear your name mentioned over and over again).

What happens after you, Donald J. Trump, permanently vacate the hallowed halls of the West Wing?

It's anyone's guess.

There's your incitement of the violent insurrection at the Capitol on January 6th to take into consideration, carried out in your name, Donald, by your fanatical cult of dangerous idiots. They're the only people left in the world who love you, and would do anything for you, so it's not wonder you "love them", and think they're "very special", 'cause you love that they love you, no matter what you do or say to them, or how much you over-promise and under-deliver, because like all malignant narcissistic sociopaths, you're a leading expert in emotional abuse and manipulation (the only thing you're an expert in), and the fact you get to inflict that on millions of adoring followers yet to comprehend what you've done to them, ohhhhh that must really tickle you pink underneath all that orange tan lathered on your leathery, baggy hide of paper-thin skin.

You had them trying to overturn the 2020 election results in your favour, because you're the sorest loser in the world, and look what it cost you.

It cost you enough key Republican allies who became unwilling to put up with your bullshit for their own benefit any longer (because what's the point of being cravenly capitalist and corrupt, if you're no longer alive to revel in your ill-gotten gains, because the crazy President you helped to keep in power turned around and sicked his crazy followers on you as part of a murderous coup? That's just rude! Where's the gratitude?!).

It cost you a whole host of business contracts and banking partnerships you were probably hoping to fall back on, post- your sorry excuse for a "presidency".

It cost you the respect of some (but admittedly not all that many) in the right-wing media who had up 'til then still supported you.

It cost you the comparatively smaller infamy you would've shared with Andrew Johnson and Bill Clinton (a.k.a. your absolute favouritest guy in the world! I mean, you were both friends with Jeffrey Epstein, were you not?), seeing as you could've only been impeached just the once... but because it's you, and it's within your character to make every bad situation a million times worse, you just couldn't help but fuck yourself over as a consequence of your boorish pride, and your eggshell-fragile ego, and now you've attained the more singular all-timer infamy of being the first, and so far only President in history, to ever be impeached twice!

Masel tov, you utterly excruciating schmuck!

It probably cost you some of your demented fanbase, who did all that domestic terrorism in your honour, only for you to throw them under the bus and publicly (if half-heartedly) condemn their actions, as if they didn't do exactly what you hoped they'd do.

It definitely cost you your access to using any social media platform to illiterately and unintelligibly vent your diseased spleen ever again, which everyone knows must have pissed you off on a disproportionately larger scale than anything else that's happened to you in recent weeks.

(Forget the second impeachment! Where am I going to doom-scroll and hate-tweet my putrid rotting guts out now?! My late night toilet-clogging shit sessions will be sooooo boring if I have to be alone with my thoughts! Ha, I'm just kidding - you don't have thoughts in a plural sense. You're the ultimate example of "no thoughts, head empty" if ever there was one, you slack-jawed fascist prick.)

The question now, Donald, is this:

Will you walk out of the White House as a former President, and upon the reinstatement of your civilian status, immediately walk into an awaiting pair of handcuffs, eagerly ready to escort you towards criminal prosecution for your treasonous actions, and soon thereafter, a loooooong deserved comeuppance for any of the countless crimes the "Teflon Don" has gotten away with over the last several decades of your woeful, worthless, wretched existence?

Time will tell.

But what I want to take some time to tell is a story.

Not the story, but a story, of what the past four years has felt like to live through, as a passive bystander outside of the US, watching in horror from afar as your ascent to power coincided - by no means accidentally - with the overarching resurgence in explicitly fascist and racist ideologies gaining a tacit acceptance, and worse still, a growing popularity among a frighteningly large number of people the world over.

A time of madness and zealotry. A time of radicalisation disguised as "discourse". A time of charlatans and morons. A time of mass rejection of objective, observable reality, and the very concept of truth itself having to be tirelessly fought tooth and nail for, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year, in a battle to reclaim them from the gnashing jaws of governmental gaslighting in this modern age of authoritarianism... brought on by you, Donald.

The age of President Trump has been a time of tragedy, shrouded in a cloak of farce.

So many are culpable in cultivating the circumstances that lead us and you here, but only one wears the face that is the ultimate symbolic personification of what it looks like when you boil all of the absolute worst sins humans are capable of perpetrating, down into a single vaguely person-shaped construct, housed in a sickly tangerine rind lumpily stuffed into a baggy suit.

That is you, Donald.

I have actively hated you with every fibre of my being for the better part of a decade, Donald. Before 2011, your existence rarely ever crossed my mind - (such a blissful notion!) - save for the times when I'd perhaps see your blessedly fleeting cameos in Home Alone 2 and Zoolander, or whenever I saw random clips from The Apprentice getting the piss ripped out of them on shows like Charlie Brooker's Screenwipe, Harry Hill's TV Burp, The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, and/or The Soup with Joel McHale.

But it was in 2011 that you started obnoxiously wheedling your way into my field of view as a figure of growing nuisance who was increasingly hard to ignore... yet also, I admit to my chagrin, very fun to hate. At least, to begin with.

First, there was your wholly unfounded, transparently racist, glibly attention-seeking promotion of a conspiracy beloved by conservatives (synonymous with racists, including you) that then-President Barack Obama wasn't born in Hawaii (which he was), but that he was actually born in Kenya (which he wasn't), thereby making him constitutionally ineligible to be President. So you spent ages parading yourself from network to network, imploring Obama to release his long-form birth certificate, and prove his American-ness to your smug satisfaction. But then Obama called your bluff, and released said certificate, confirming his Hawaiian heritage, and swiftly shutting down your claims that you almost certainly knew to be false. In true Trump fashion, however, instead of taking the "L" like a man (which you are anything but), you spun that humiliating repudiation of your racist publicity stunt into you somehow having heroically done "something that nobody else could do", then taking credit with a straight face that you helped put the issue to rest, but not before sneaking in a lie that it was Hillary Clinton and her campaign who instigated the whole birther thing (which she didn't; you did).

But it was the release that selfsame year of Anthony Baxter's documentary, You've Been Trumped, which truly cemented my contempt for your execrable existence, Donald.

A lot's happened in the roughly 10 whole years that have elapsed between now, and when the film was made, so I'll refresh your senility-addled memory, Donald.

It was that documentary about you deciding you had every right to order the construction of a quote-unquote "luxury" golf course for the benefit of yourself and your tiny circle of rich friends, building it upon a certain beach in Balmedie, Aberdeenshire - (you know, in Scotland, where your mother came from! Before she moved to America! As an immigrant! You insufferable hypocrite!) - wherein you disrupted the natural ecosystem, destroyed the beauty of the land, publicly bullied and name-called the locals who stood up to your desecration of their home for your own selfish whims, and showed the full rainbow of your true vomit-inducing colours, which we know all too well today: that you're a crusty, corpulently capitalistic, cataclysmically callous, contemptibly cuntish cunt, with not a single shred of a redeeming quality to be found anywhere within or without you.

And the worst part... is that this didn't even begin to lightly graze a fingertip against the surface of how truly terrible we'd come to discover you were capable of being.

This was you in public, Donald.

Behind closed doors, you must be a Lovecraftian black hole of perpetual existential primordial horror, that drives everyone around you homicidally or suicidally insane if they have to look at you or deal with you for longer than a handful of seconds at a time. Only those with equally as hollow an internal absence of a soul can stand any chance of breathing the same air as you... which I suppose explains Mitch McConnell and Stephen Miller, just to name a couple, huh?

(Oh, right, I forgot to explain: "Lovecraftian" is a descriptive term referring to the works of H.P. Lovecraft, an author of books you'll never read, who wrote about monsters almost as horrifying as you, and was just as racist as you, if not more so! Were he alive today, you'd both probably get on like a house on fire. Wait, sorry, I misspelt "you should both be in a house on fire"...)

Am I being too harsh on you, Donald?

No.

I'm not being harsh enough.

Not even close.

Not when held up in contrast to the severity of all the atrocious acts you have ever committed or caused, even when narrowing that (impossibly long) list down to just what you've done in the past four or five years.

The mismanagements in relief efforts in the aftermaths of Hurricane Irma, Hurricane Maria, and Hurricane Dorian, which made George W. Bush's handling of Hurricane Katrina look like heaven-sent humanitarian perfection by comparison.

The Russian collusion investigations, and your ham-fisted feints at tampering with them to save your own skin.

The multiple times you caused international diplomatic crises that had the world teetering on the brink of World War Three, all because you're an recklessly impulsive dumbass.

Your insistent inability time and time again to condemn white nationalists, white supremacists, and/or literal Nazis, because they all love you, and you love that they love you, so why alienate your biggest fans? (And also you're a pathologically prejudicial bastard who's discriminated against every possible kind of marginalised group of people there is for you to dehumanise with your typical derisive, gleeful scorn.)

But mostly, it's the fact that your glaring incompetence, your short-sighted dismissal of any factual information that clashes with your magical-thinking wilful ignorance, your notoriously awful money- and business-handling strategies (i.e. you have no strategies), and your disreputable disregard for the value of human life, all combined in the most monumentally devastating way with the myriad ways you failed - or more accurately, did not even fucking try - to fight and contain the spread of the COVID-19 pandemic.

As of the time of writing this, on your very last day, and the eve of you finally getting the fuck out of office and handing the controls back to the grown-ups, the coronavirus death toll in America has - as a direct result of your inaction and your ineptitude - exceeded 400,000.

Four. Hundred. Thousand. Deaths.

And counting.

This is your legacy, Donald.

You spent your life branding your name on skyscrapers, steaks, and fraudulent universities. Now your name will forever brand this period in the history books, detailing how your grotesque lack of empathy and basic intelligence resulted in more total American fatalities than the Vietnam War and 9/11 combined - an unfathomable tally the mind simply cannot comprehend the enormity of.

You forfeited your right to mercy and decorum a long time ago, Donald.

You should never have been granted the power to be President.

You were always going to cause more harm than good.

You always have.

You always will.

Now go rot.

Unkind regards,

JAK.

trump
1

About the Creator

Jack Anderson Keane

An idiot pretending not to be an idiot.

You can also find me on Twitter (for memes), Instagram (for the pictures), Letterboxd (for film reviews), Medium (for a Vocal alternative), Goodreads (for book reviews), and Spotify (for my music).

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.