I am afraid, very afraid. Well, I’ve always been afraid, but these days I’m truly terrified. It seems that after all the good I’ve done for this country there are still people who don’t like me. I don’t get it. Where is the sound, the roar of my adoring fans when I need them most? I’m told I can’t have my beloved rallies because of this foreign, probably fake, virus that has killed a few thousand people.
My fans know the virus is fake because that’s what I’ve told them. And they seem to believe everything that I say, no matter how outrageous. That’s because of the love. It’s so empowering to mention some crazy conspiracy theory and watch it take hold as if it has any truth to it at all, like the one about an “entire plane filled up with the looters, the anarchists, the rioters, people that obviously were looking for trouble.” I know I have no evidence to prove this ever happened, but they believe me anyway.
But how can I know that I’m loved without those thrilling rallies with thousands of my people all screaming whatever I tell them to scream, like “Lock Her Up?” Remember that one? I’m such a stable genius when it comes to that sort of thing.
I need to know I’m loved like I need air to breathe. I guess just seeing my name all over the “fake” news is a form of love, isn’t it? It’s certainly attention, though negative, I know. But that’s good too, isn’t it?
I love to see my name written everywhere — buildings, steaks, universities, foundations. Oh wait, they made me take my name off some of those, something about corruption. I hate when that happens.
Here, give me my phone, just thought of something totally offensive to tweet about, maybe something with a nice racist ring to it. But I’m the least racist person ever. You know this tweeting thing is a godsend. In the old days I had to pay a whole bunch of money to the “fake” New York Times to run an ad that would get a fraction of the attention I can get now for free.
But then Twitter came along, and I bought it, so to speak. Now I can pick up my phone and spend 2 minutes tapping my finger and soon the world is ablaze in response to my brilliance. The love, I tell you, the love coming back just fills me with renewed energy to, well, I don’t know, to go watch “Fox and Friends” chatter about what I’ve just tweeted and the ensuing storm it created.
I need that love, need that attention. One of my favorite pastimes, besides golf, is to count the retweets and tweets in response to something totally wacked that I’ve sent out. I love to count my followers too, over 80 million, you know. I’m famous. I’m the president of the United States of America. I like to say that.
In case you like to look things up, you’ll find that Twitter keeps listing my predecessor with nearly 120 million followers, but that’s fake news, of course.
This is such a great job. I don’t even have to hire my own bodyguards to protect me from all the people I’ve cheated and hurt or from those violent “Antifa” protesters. I have the Secret Service! That’s one budget I’m never going to cut, you can be sure of that. And, yes, I know that Antifa poses no harm to anyone, it’s just something I like to say to fire up my fans, especially the ones with guns.
But I am afraid. Maybe, despite all my attempts to subvert this coming election, all my deceitful tweets about mail-in ballot fraud, and my false tales of Democratic hellscapes filled with socialist anarchy, violence and death, I’ll lose this job. I’m hoping my fans won’t notice that I’m the one presiding over those hellscapes; I am the president, after all. But they don’t seem to notice things like that and hopefully they’ll reelect me for four more years of the very same hellscapes. Or maybe even 12. It could happen. They love me.
And then to add to my fear, my personal lawyer, oops, sorry, I mean the U.S. Attorney General, Bill Barr, will no longer be able to protect me, should I lose the election, from prosecution for all the corrupt, illegal and unconstitutional acts that the “fake news” says I’ve done.
It’s amazing what you can get away with when you are president. At least when I’m president. The rest of them were suckers and losers, like all those people who volunteered for military service and then got captured, wounded or killed. You would never catch me doing a thing like that.
I suppose I could just claim voter fraud and not accept defeat when I lose the election, but they might send in the National Guard, like I always threaten to do, only this time it would be to remove me from the White House. Jeepers, I prefer guns pointed at other people, definitely not at me.
So, you can see that I’ve got to keep this job to stay out of jail. I beg you, please vote for me. Even better, vote for me twice, once using those fraudulent mail-in things and then vote again in person on Nov. 3. I need all the votes I can get.
This campaign ad was paid for by Donald J. Trump and I approve of every word.
Karen Gardner, of Haydenville, can be reached at opinion@gazettenet.com.
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