Take A Walk On the Wild Side Or How Donald Trump’s Fear Of Ridicule Will Kill Us All
By Scott King
“But she never lost her head, even when she was giving head”.
– Lou Reed, Walk on the Wild Side
Dear Mr. President,
How are you? I hope you are well. I hear that recently you have met with some trying times, that you are at maximum stress level and are frustrated with the state of your Presidency and public image.
Needless to say, I have been there. I hope this letter finds you well, and I hope that the words that follow will be of some comfort to you in the weeks and months to come.
As you know, I am a proud and long-standing Liberal American. I identify as liberal, Democrat, and progressive. I’m fluid like that.
I, along with the other members of this proud and robust coalition, wish to send you a message.
We, on the Left, PROMISE not to judge you for the pee tape.
We won’t be so haughty as to deny the fact that we are all a little pee curious at some point in our beautiful lives. Heck, I had a good friend in college who I’m pretty sure was into that. He got this weird look on his face sometimes when I went to the loo. I never talked to him about it, but I wouldn’t have judged him either way. Whatever floats your boat, ya know?
I apologize. That was an extremely insensitive metaphor to employ just then. I really do want you to know that, all joking and polemics aside, there is a community of people out there who will support you when that viral doomsday comes. The truth will set you free. Just ask anyone who’s ever come out of the closet with any sort of alternative sexual orientation or as a member of any alternative sex community.
Now, I know that all this terminology is probably new to you, and harrowing. It probably feels like you’re attending your first day of orientation at PC University.
Never fear. The Left is here. I’m guessing you will be surprised and delighted to learn that alternative sex communities know no political orientation. Libertarians, liberals, gun-toting conservatives – all are welcome under the fetish tent. Heck, I even read a fanzine once about people with fetishes for political theatre. Do you know anyone who’s into that?
Shame is not worth it. It’s not worth the tension in your shoulders. It’s not worth Melania spending all your money on those subversive raincoats. It’s not worth turning over American patriots to foreign dictators for imprisonment, ridicule, torture, and “accidental” murder.
Above all, the integrity of your reputation is not worth the degradation of America’s. Just because you like to get peed on, that doesn’t mean America wants to get shit on by our allies in retaliation for your humongous bag of condescending, entitled, willfully ignorant bullshit.
It’s just not worth it. Calm down, queen. Let me pour you a glass of your very first champagne. Champagne is French, you know. You like the French.
Don’t you feel better now? I know, I know. Your father didn’t love you as much as you wanted him to. But fuck that racist, withholding c**t of an asshole. Who is he to tell you you’re only worth a million dollars? You’re a billion if you’re a day.
Who cares if you don’t get reelected? At least then you’ll have plenty of time to pursue your private legal issues. And golf!
And heck, if you really are as hung as everyone is saying you are, maybe you can do porn! Give Stormy Daniels a call for the sequel. Working title: “Executive Sweet, Part Deux.”
I can’t wait to see your huge penis.