Note to Donald Trump: Be a Man

Hey, Donald Trump, President Trump, whatever the fuck you wanna be called,

I don't like you and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't like me, if you knew who I was. See, I want you to fail so spectacularly that you are tempted to resign or take your own life on live TV and video streaming. Anyone who has ever had to deal with a pissy elderly relative knows exactly what you are: a belligerent shithead bullying your way through your episodes of dementia.  You're just rich enough to be taken seriously with your mad ranting. And I don't give a fuck how much you suffer because of your mental decline. It won't be enough.

So I'm probably pretty goddamn low on the list of people who should be giving you advice, but here we are. You're the president and I'm one of your subjects...I mean, citizens, and you've talked about returning power to me, among everyone else. Maybe read this on your phone when you're sitting on the shitter, getting ready to pinch out a tight, angry, painful fiber-deprived loaf, before screaming out something idiotic for one of your ass-wipers to tweet.

Let me put this in the gendered language you love because it's so not politically correct:

Be a man.

'Cause right now, you're acting like a little, needy bitch, like a particularly well-pampered Pekingese that demands more petting and more treats. Be a man. A real man. One who doesn't require to be told endlessly that he's the best, the greatest, the biggest. One who isn't compelled to ask for affirmation from people who couldn't give less of a shit about things like the size of your inauguration crowd. I know it goes against your very being and how you've lived your entire stupid life. But give it a try.

You claim that you weren't making fun of reporter Serge Kovaleski's disability, that you were mocking him for "groveling." But you're the one who's groveling now. You're begging for everyone around you to buy into your lies and you despise it when reality intrudes on your well-wrought fantasy world. No matter how long you've done it, it makes you a pussy, a big, wet pussy just throbbing to get fingered and fucked, like all those that you claim you've grabbed, you walking virus.

A real man would have said, "Yeah, fine, I mocked the guy. I apologize and will try to do better." But someone in your life at some point, whether it was your despicable, racist father or your disgusting, verminous surrogate father, Roy Cohn, told you that men don't ever say they're sorry. Those people are wrong and dead. A real man mocks someone, admits it, and then either offers regret or says, "Come and get me."

After winning the election, all you could do was whine and lie. You didn't win the popular vote because of 3-5 million "illegal immigrants" fraudulently voting, as if anyone would go to the trouble of arranging the biggest fraud in history just to jack up the percentages in California. The media lied, you said, and you had an enormous crowd for your inauguration, even though photographs and anyone there who wasn't blind knew the truth. And you're "angry" about the size of the Women's March.

Jesus, look at how pathetic your bio is on the White House website: "Mr. Trump won the election on November 8 of 2016 in the largest electoral college landslide for a Republican in 28 years. He won over 2,600 counties nationwide, the most since President Reagan in 1984. Additionally, he won over 62 million votes in the popular vote, the highest all-time for a Republican nominee. He also won 306 electoral votes, the most for a Republican since George H.W. Bush in 1988. " Put aside the lie that your lower-third ranked winning percentage of the Electoral College is a mighty victory. Instead, look at that last line. There's been one Republican president since George H.W. Bush. So all you're saying is that you had a bigger electoral margin of victory than George W. Bush. You beat one guy out of dozens who beat you. And you're bragging about it? That's just sad and desperate, like "Look at the rabbits, Lennie" sad and desperate.

Now you're gonna have some great investigation into your delusion that there was fraud in the election (at least in the states that didn't vote for you, right?).  And while, yes, your band of merry assholes can't wait to get them some of those sweet, sweet restrictions on voting rights, you know that you're doing this only because you want to prove some fucking worthless point. If one vote in California turns out to be cast fraudulently, even if it was just an error, you will cackle and dance like you just found gold in the Sierra Madres, you dumb fuck.

The PC pundits will tell you to act like a grown-up. But you and me, we don't play like that. We tell it like it is. So be a man. Get over this popularity shit.

And don't worry. We can still talk about how much of a cunt you are.