To the editor:
To my Trump supporting neighbors: Please do not cry. I can no longer bear the sight, for crying after all is for girls, gays and coastal elites. I do recognize the weight you carry is crushing, for how is it possible that the greatest leader in recorded history might lose to a chump named Sleepy Joe?
It’s like losing a 100-meter dash to a guy in a wheelchair, or a spelling bee contest to a retard when you happen to be a “stable genius.” Oh, the humanity! After so much winning and greatness, including massive deficits, increases in illegal immigration and several hundred thousand Americans dead, this: How did our Chosen One join the pathetic club of one-term losers like Jimmy Carter?
The election must have been rigged, except that Trump’s lead counsel, the red-nosed alcoholic Rudy, could not deliver a single serious argument in a court of law, or a single verified case of voter fraud. How befitting that the closing arguments were made in front of a trashy Philly strip mall next to a crematorium and a porn shop, ironically capturing the very essence of this disgraced presidency: death and lust.
This concludes one of the darkest episodes in American history, perhaps best remembered as the last gasp of Confederate white trash. Because your identity became tied to that of the Chosen One, you were willing to sacrifice principle and decency to protect yourself from truth. But this is America, and truth wins, and how sad the day when you finally realize you worshiped a golden calf instead of Christ the Lord. But it’s alright, we still love you and maybe you just need to wail, for as a former girlfriend once told me, “Just make yourself vulnerable for nothing relieves a troubled heart like a good cry.”