You and I have a history, Mr. Trump.
I grew up between your Atlantic City casinos and your New York high rises. My parents’ cheap TV was tuned to the six o’clock local news every night. As a child, I watched news anchors tell a different story every night about your bankruptcies, infidelities, and media antics.
When I first visited Atlantic City in 1999, I couldn’t believe the dichotomy of the opulent casinos and the veritable wasteland of the surrounding community. At 20 years old, I could clearly see the poverty and the luxury, side by side, a poignant illustration of your “take everything, give nothing back” attitude about life and business. To you, “corporate responsibility” is an abstract, foreign concept.
Later, I heard news that you had made it a habit of calling radio stations posing as someone else, telling listeners how good you were in bed. I had one reaction: That is the lamest thing I have ever heard anyone doing. Ever.
When you decided to run for POTUS, I could scarcely believe it. Not because I thought you could never win, but because you — a con man — would be subjecting yourself to a level of scrutiny that you and your business practices could never endure.
When you swore the oath to uphold the Constitution and protect the United States from enemies both foreign and domestic, I knew it meant nothing. You should have put your tiny hand on a stack of Mad Magazines and swore to protect the citizens of the planet Saturn. It would have been more believable.
The promises you made on the campaign trail to your base — the unfortunate souls that didn’t know you like I do — are also lies. Mexico is not going to pay for a wall. Cutting “trillions” of dollars in taxes is not possible without complete government collapse. Fortunately for your base, you couldn’t deliver on your promise to dissolve Obamacare, either.
Anything you say — when scrutinized — crumbles. Because you’re absolutely, one hundred percent, lying your ass off.
It doesn’t matter whether your lies are simply exaggerations, or that you are ignorant of the real facts. It matters that you don’t care enough about your job as president to get the facts before you speak. A president with a conscience knows that his words have power. A president that cares about his constituents respects them enough to at least try to get some facts right.
But you aren’t a president that cares.
You don’t care that people who so vehemently support you — some of my own family members, in fact — believe your lies. Instead, you count on their ignorance for your support. One only needs to read the Mueller indictment of Internet Research Agency, et al, to see how your voters were played during the election. It’s all right there in black and white. They were conned into doing horrible things on your behalf.
In his book “It’s Even Worse Than You Think: What the Trump Administration Is Doing to America,” David Cay Johnston explains how you have used your presidency to tear apart U.S. economic, environmental, industrial, and foreign policies in ways that no president has ever attempted. In some cases, the damage is irreversible.
You don’t care that your voters will be the first to be negatively impacted by your stances on health, the environment, and education. Because of your policies, Bill will not only get cancer from drinking polluted groundwater, he also won’t be able to afford his cancer treatments. But Bill shows up to your rallies wearing the not cool old school red MAGA hat and celebrates your political “success” while you tell him it’s the Democrats, the Liberals, feminists, gays, and the Resistance that caused his suffering. And he believes you.
You fill up the air with your lies to distract Bill and his fellow MAGA sheep from the real issues, and keep them from realizing that you, Mr. Trump, are a fraud. You don’t want them to see that you are nothing but a ball of yarn which, unraveled, is nothing.
To boost your own credibility with people who can’t do math and don’t know any better, you tell bloated untruths about your businesses, which were built with borrowed money. Your signature phrases, “Trust me” and “Believe me” are sure signs to any discerning person that we definitely should do neither.
Mr. Trump, you’ve lived a life full of misdeeds, lies, and debauchery with few, if any, consequences for damage you’ve caused to the environment, our citizens, our cities, and our institutions of government. As president, you can no longer hide the evidence of your life’s filthy work.
Lawsuits are being filed against you and your companies in numerous jurisdictions. People you trusted are getting plea agreements and immunity in exchange for their testimony. The U.S. Justice Department is using your “best people” to build a case against you. They’re closing in — and you know it.
Ahead of your eventual resignation or impeachment — whether it happens today, tomorrow, or a month from now — I bid you adieu, Mr. Trump.
Don’t let any of the White House’s 412 doors hit you in the ass on the way out.
Esther Hofknecht Curtis, MSM-HCA is a freelance writer living in Dover, Delaware. Follow her on Facebook — go to https://www.facebook.com/TheArdentReader19977/