Dear President Trump,

I was mistaken the other day – the video about “plogging” did have some low-key music to carry the litter plucking joggers along. I just thought it was silent because I had the sound on my laptop turned off. Want to know why? Probably not, but I’ll tell you anyway – I almost always keep the sound off on my laptop because I hate being startled by pop-up videos and I especially hate being involuntarily subjected to the sound of your voice. Your voice is like fingernails on chalkboard for me and I will do pretty much anything to avoid hearing you.

Laura’s brother is here visiting over the holidays and yesterday we were discussing all the extra-awful news that broke over everyone’s heads this past week. Laura was saying how weird and wrong it feels to have things so very messed up (polite phrasing) and to be going on along with our days pretty much like normal rather than trying to get the hell out of here. I’ve definitely written to you before about the bizarre, surreal feeling that everyone’s hair is on fire, but most of us are going about our business like things are just maybe a bit off. Well, after the past week this sense is magnified by at least a factor of 100. Even your GOP toadies are admitting concern. On the one hand this might mean they’ll finally be willing to sacrifice whatever goodies they’ve been getting in exchange for mindlessly supporting you. On the other hand, though, it seems likely that whatever Vladimir has on them will be sufficiently compromising that they’ll just make their little mewling noises, but won’t actually do anything (at f*cking all) to check you.

So yes, things are at an incredibly screwed up fever pitch right now and with the guardrails shearing off as the various generals exit stage right (left?) and you’re backed further into a corner come January 3^rd, I’m thinking they are actually going to get worse. Some might wonder how things could possibly get worse, but if the goal is to screw over the country and completely derail our democracy, I’m sure your handlers have some more nasty tricks up their sleeves.

I miss President Obama. I have this fantasy that he’s gotten all the other ex-presidents together along with their smart, thoughtful wives and the eight of them are working out how to save the world from you and Vladimir. Please, oh please – it’s not that far fetched!

May we be safe from you and your handlers.
May we be willing step out of our numb complacency.
May we develop healthy and effective counter-strategies.
May you not start a war.

Sincerely,
Tracy Simpson