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Day 285 – Just How Scary Is Your Presidency? Let Us Rate A Few Recent Examples For You…Halloween Style.

Day 285 – Just How Scary Is Your Presidency? Let Us Rate A Few Recent Examples For You…Halloween Style.

Image from LoveThisPic

Mr. President,

In honor of it being the first Halloween of your presidency, I thought we could gauge your threat level (as measured in # of jack-o-lanterns) on various topics.  Shall we?

Topic #1:

I was pleasantly surprised to see that a federal judge overturned part of your transgender military ban, on the basis that it was a policy that does not seem “to be supported by any facts”, and that ending the current policy would have significant “negative effects on the military.”

Your tweet:

Assessment:

Nothing from you today on this (#sad), but given that the military had no intention of enforcing this policy and that this judge exposed you as a source of fake news on transgender persons in the military, my guess is this is not going to make you happy.

Threat level: 3 terrifying jack-o-lanterns

Topic #2:

I sadly wasted four minutes of my day watching Sarah Huckabee-Sanders explain via parable why rich people need more money.  Oh, Donald.  You should fire someone over this.  I’m sure it was not poor Sarah who wrote this parable, so let’s save her, but please, heads must roll.  The premise is a riot:  Suppose that every day ten people, for our purposes we’ll say reporters, go out for beer. The bill for all ten comes to $100.  Just stop there.  How much do you think reporters make?  You know that newspapers are dying, right?  And yet they go out every day and spend $100?  Is this some chic bar in New York or DC?  Because I can tell you it takes a lot of Bud Light (#1 beer in America) to get to $100.  That’s approximately five cases for 10 people – 12 cans a DAY for each of our (very soused) reporters!   Is this really the example you want to use to explain our “broken” system to the country?  Sorry…got sidetracked there.

The punchline of the parable is that a 20% reduction in beer cost – now an $80 bill – will benefit the richest reporter (Ha!) the most in terms of raw dollars, but the low and middle-class reporters the most in terms of % gained.  That this is “fair.”  Ok, I’ll give her this. Unfortunately though she glosses over the most important point – the bar is screwed!  Who covers the $20 the bar is generously giving up?  You do understand that the “bar” in this story is the government, right?  You see, tax cuts are relatively easy to agree upon, it’s how to pay for them that’s the problem.  And it is in this conundrum that we see yet another one of your initiatives going down the drain.

Your tweet:

Assessment:

Sadly, you don’t seem to get it either.  The Republicans know that you have to pay for tax cuts, not rely on promises of unicorns and fairy dust.

Threat Level: 6 terrifying jack-o-lanterns

Topic #3:

And finally, on the top of mind of many today is the smoke (and fire?) emerging from the Robert Mueller’s probe into your campaign’s connection to Russia.   Seems as if one of the early members of your National Security team has plead guilty to giving a false statement to the FBI regarding his connections with Russian contacts, connections he made after he joined your campaign. Whoops!

Your tweet:

Assessment:

You seem to confuse “low level” with “member of National Security team.” You are seemingly angry as you are pointing the finger at the DEMS (again).  This could very, very bad for you.

Threat Level: 10 terrifying jack-o-lanterns

Happy Halloween!

Sincerely,

Letters2Trump

 

Day 284 – I. Am. Lucky. Because. I. Have. Never. Been. Raped. Think About That, Mr. President.

Day 284 – I. Am. Lucky. Because. I. Have. Never. Been. Raped. Think About That, Mr. President.

Image from RAINN

Mr. President,

I’m one of those women. You know, the bothersome type who have used #metoo. I have to admit, even though I’ve experienced harassment, at least a half dozen times, I’ve never been raped. Think about that for a minute.

I. Am. Lucky. Because. I. Have. Never. Been. Raped.

I wonder how many times you thought to yourself: She wants it. I’m rich. I can have any woman. They are lucky that I’m interested in them at all. Because, hey, if a rich guy like me finds them attractive, well then, they must be worth more than those other women that don’t merit a second look.

I was 16 when my mom’s doctor tried to kiss me. In a parking lot. I was on my way to work. I dodged his toad lips. I told my boss; she revoked his membership. I was lucky.

I was 17 when my sister’s college boyfriend groped my breasts and ass. She was standing next to us, clueless. That time, I was so shocked, I had no idea how to react. She eventually broke up with him and married a nicer guy. Sort of lucky.

I was 19 and at a college party and I turned around and some frat guy grabbed both of my breasts. In public. He had an on-going bet with his friends to see how many women he could feel up. He walked away, laughing. I kicked him in the Achilles’ tendon. Hard. With silver-tipped cowboy boots. I was lucky.

I was also lucky that my parents raised my sisters and I to be strong, opinionated, self-assured women. This rearing stood me in good stead when alone on a dorm elevator, three big ten football players got on. They surrounded me, asking me if I wanted to go down. I was 98 pounds and stood at 5’3″. I told them to fuck off; they laughed and got out of my way when my floor came up. I was extremely lucky.

You know who wasn’t lucky? My roommate. She was at a party. Someone slipped something into her beer. She woke in a frat house. She’d been raped. She walked around campus for a year. She tried to handle the attack on her own. She never told us. She would see her rapist on campus, and he would wave at her, all happy, like he hadn’t done anything wrong.

One night, we were at a bar. She saw him. She lost it. She turned to me and our other roommates and said, “That guy raped me.” He waved at her and winked, she smiled back and walked over to him. Then, she smashed her beer bottle over his head. My other roommate kicked him where it counted most, and I explained the situation to the bouncers. That guy, Joe Fratboy, was banned from the bar, a big deal when you go to a big ten school. I drove my friend to the E.R. where she had to endure stitches on her finger from the broken beer bottle.  She was not lucky.

Neither are 1 out of every 6 women in the United States who are victims of attempted or completed rape.

I’ve been groped, and felt up, and verbally intimidated, and pawed at, and pinched, and so-many-other-fucking-things-that-I-need-a-thesaurus-to-name-them-all. And I feel lucky? Do you think, you self-admitted grabber of pussies, that the women you physically harassed feel lucky?

Let me answer that for you: no, they are pissed.

Oops. I forgot. According to you, these we women are lying. Because, really, it is so much fun to tell others about when we’ve been sexually assaulted. We ALL know who the @realliar is.

Sincerely,

Letters2Trump

P.S. Russia.

 

Day 284 – Just So You Know We Are Not Distracted, Mr. President…

Day 284 – Just So You Know We Are Not Distracted, Mr. President…

Image from ThingLink

Mr. President,

Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia.

Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia.

Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia.

Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia.

Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia Russia.

Sincerely,

Letters2Trump

P.S. Not distracted.

Day 283 – It’s About More Than Just Saying No, Mr. President.

Day 283 – It’s About More Than Just Saying No, Mr. President.

Photograph by Dennis Yip

Mr. President,

I never know where to start with these letters. I try to pick one topic and focus on it. But how can I pick which is the most alarming?

As usual, you are giving us plenty of softball distractions that I could write about:

  • Yet another tweeting war – this time with the widow of one of the green berets, Army Sgt. La David Johnson, who mysteriously died in an ambush in a Niger mission. You claim though, you have an “excellent memory” and you know that you, in fact, did not insult her and her husband by telling her that her husband “knew what he was signing up for.”
  • Then yesterday I watched, yet again, with dismay, you make an ass out of yourself. This time, you aimed insults through children at their parents, who are the press corp. We watched, cringing, as you not only joked (???) that the kids have no weight problems, but that they are also surprisingly good looking, despite their parents – you know, the “fake news” producers.
  • And speaking of your “fake news” catch-all for any reporting you don’t care for – this time in response to the at least 16 women who have accused you of sexual harassment? The White House official position: Fake News.

Meanwhile, there is truly so much SCARY SHIT happening.

I think my biggest concern – truly, at the end of the day – is your complete and utter disregard for the seriousness of your position. I don’t know what world you are living in. But you are literally killing people.

My brother died of a heroin overdose three years ago. He was a good, kind, gentle person. He also had layers upon layers of medical and mental problems that we were never able to untangle. We loved him. We tried so hard to help him. And while we weren’t able to save him, thanks to Medicaid, we were able to at least help him live a decent quality of life. He lived with my parents, and we got some supplemental support that helped him pay for food and medications so that my parents didn’t go completely broke.

Last week, you did declare a public health emergency under the Public Health Services Act, which directs federal agencies to provide more grant money to combat the epidemic. And maybe that’s something. I hope it is.

But just a friendly reminder: The War on Drugs doesn’t work. I wish it did, but sadly, it’s about more than “just saying no,” as Attorney General Jeff Sessions would like to have us believe. And it’s more than just good advertising, as you claimed. My brother tried to say no. Many times. But like so many of the problems you hate, there was no quick fix.

I don’t need to spout statistics, but we all know people are dying of opioid overdoses at an increasingly alarming rate. It is truly an epidemic.

You brush off true and real concerns. You choose easy, quick, and thoughtless opposed to complex and thoughtful. You choose to stand behind half-baked healthcare policies that would dump the most vulnerable Americans into an even bigger and unescapable financial ditch.

Thanks to your irresponsible actions, premiums for the most popular Affordable Care Act plan have risen 34%. The market is unstable – thanks to your decision to end subsidy payments to insurers, the continued debate over repeal and replace of the Affordable Care Act, and an executive order allowing for lower cost plans outside of the Obama-era law, according to a report by Avalere Health.

You dismiss truths you find inconvenient or simply don’t like. You abuse your power, toying with laws and regulations that save people’s lives.

Good people are dying. They are the sons and daughters and sisters and brothers and friends of good people. Your presidency isn’t about you, Donald. The U.S. presidency is about protecting our citizens, keeping our world as safe as you can, and making the most thoughtful decisions possible. You might not take your position seriously, Mr. President. But I do. And so do all of those people whose lives are hanging by a thread…and are about to be cut off by your administration.

Sincerely,

Letters2Trump

Day 282 – How to Avoid a Collision Course For Our Country and The Rest of The World.

Day 282 – How to Avoid a Collision Course For Our Country and The Rest of The World.

Photograph by Scott Ableman

Mr. President,

Hi, it’s me again, just one of a collective of citizens concerned about the direction you are steering the country. We’ve approached you on a variety of issues, Mr. President: your behavior, your foreign policy, your behavior, the tax plan you have promoted, your behavior, your cabinet secretaries, your travel bans, your stance on immigration, your behavior, your lack of transparency in your taxes, your past and current business dealings and your relationships with foreign governments, your acceptance of white nationalists in your inner circle, and of course, your behavior.  I wish I could report that we’ve found evidence that you’ve heard us or anyone else who has soberly criticized your governance, but unfortunately, I can’t.  Your insistence upon “doubling down” seems to have no apex (come on sir, a pregnant war widow?), and we are holding our collective breath in hopes that you have done less damage than we collectively surmise you’ve accomplished.  But recently, I noticed you seem preoccupied with something, something that has troubled you before, and I offer you some advice that might keep your steering of this country a little to the left of the iceberg.

Sir, smart people don’t have to declare to others they are smart. They just don’t.  Are you familiar with Bill Nye, The Science Guy, or Neil deGrasse Tyson? No? Oh, sir, you would really like these two! Bill is a mechanical engineer, um, that means that he applies physics, engineering, and mechanical science to design and— ok, he knows how stuff works and can make stuff, and Neil is an astrophysicist, uh, that means he studies heavenly bodies— um, I mean he knows about stars and planets and the like.  Both of them have had multiple TV shows that garnered high ratings. Bill has a four year degree from an Ivy League (BS in mechanical engineering), Cornell, and Neil has degrees from Harvard (a BS in physics), Columbia (MS and PhD in astrophysics) and taught at Princeton, so yes, he too has gone to Ivy League schools just like you, but for longer and with more degrees. Most people would say that these two guys are really, really smart.  And that’s why, Mr. President, they don’t have to say it.  Like ever.

Instead, Dr. Tyson and Mr. Nye hold talks, write articles, appear on TV shows and podcasts, write books and give interviews, kind of sigh like you, except they excite people about science, inspire young children to study in different STEM fields (um, STEM stands for science, technology, engineering and math), ensuring that the next generation will help America (and others around the world, sir, you have to be better about sharing) continue to be great in some areas. People tell me that not only does this make them smart, but it also makes them trustworthy, and they give the collective hope for the future, which we need, Mr. President, bigly.

So, maybe don’t get into a pissing—I mean, IQ contest with your secretary of state, rather, call Secretary DeVos and tell her to lay off of the religious school kick (there is that little matter of church and state separation) and invest in more STEM (remember, I explained that in the last paragraph) education programs.

And, perhaps you could sit down and watch a documentary about the price of nuclear war, like The Bomb (2015) which is on Netflex (I’m sure Barron could help you find it), or, if you’d rather fiction, you could try The Atomic Café (1982) or Testament (1983) or even The Road (2009).  These films are all in color and you might find them more interesting than books, reports, and scholarly articles; at the very least, the collective wishes you might think on the message of the movies before you take to Tweeting at Kim Jong-Un.

Finally, instead of bragging about your great memory, you could quietly reflect on a time in your life when you lost something or someone you cared for before calling a lost service member’s family—oh, hold on, sir, the collective is telling me it sees something up ahead…

Anyway, Mr. Trump, the point is that you don’t have to worry about the media misconstruing the depth of your intellectual capacity if you do smart things, like Neil and Bill.  And maybe use spell check before you Tweet. And perhaps stop talking. And possibly resign.  Just a thought.

Sincerely,

Letters2Trump

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