(The below correspondence contains locker room talk that may perturb you, bro. You’ve been clued. But to paraphrase someone famous, It’s just locker-room talk.)
Dear Donald:
First of all, Thank you. No, seriously, dude.
You helped me (and a lot of other people) recognize that there’s plenty of blame to spread, regards to how shitty things are now, Bro. I’m pretty much a dyed-in-the-wool, do-or-die libtard, and I’ve opened my eyes to the fact that the Democratic Party dropped the ball pretty royal. They totally raided the Republicans’ cooler and chugged those trickle-down brewskis for thirty-something years, because the money was too good. They burrowed their faces deep into those Benjamins right alongside Republican lawmakers, snarfing Wall Street and special-interest bucks down like hungry pigs going at a trough of slop.
Bipartisan Congressional Luncheon, Eve of Housing Market Crash, 2008.
Then, dude! This guy who’s straight-up and gives exactly zero fucks about that money—one of the few pols who sees that everybody in this country who’s not rich is getting a shit sandwich on stale bread with no mayo—runs for Prez. That dude inspires a lot of people, then the establishment dems—the ones theoretically on his side, Bro-cifer!—basically kneecap his chances. Liberals are pissed at the DNC because they fucked Sanders. The peeps in your electorate are pissed because they feel like no one on either side of the fence gives a shit about ‘em, and that it’s political bullshit business as usual.
So I guess it’s not as simple as blue and red politics. You (or at least your fellow White Straight Dude frat bros making plans while you bust out the Make America Great rhymes) figured that shit out, stat. People wanted a change. For awhile it looked like Sanders and you would be the ones going to into the ring. In a lot of ways, it coulda been either of you taking it, if things were a little different.
And congratulations, Bro. For all the bitching and moaning people have done about the anachronistic (sorry about big-wording it, man; I meant outdated) Electoral College being your Bro benefactor, and all that whiny bleeding-heart bullshit about everything you say, do, and think, even chicks and bros who hate you have to hat-tip how well you played this whole presidential candidate thing.
A lotta poor white peeps have been worked up about unemployment, and how mainstream politicians don’t give a shit about ‘em, for a long time. And they’ve got some serious points. It mighta been white rich bros and their chicks who pushed it over for you (as well as you being Mr. Joe Electoral College, Bro-telli), but I ain’t denying the shit going down for the white people who aren’t loaded.
Thing is, you bro-blew past the fact that the people being force-fed that economic shit sandwich are all different colors and religions who should, like, get tight and party together. And you played a bunch of our fellow caucasoids like loaded dice at a Trump Tower craps table, Amigo. Now, some of ‘em just straight-up hate the shit out of anyone who doesn’t look the same, or think the same, or hit the same church. Seriously wack, my man.
You also learned that a lot of bros and chicks out there hate anyone who’s smarter than them. Especially if it’s a woman. (good thing your posse doesn’t have to worry about your brain intimidating ‘em, Bro-fessor). And no matter how together she is (you gotta admit she kinda mopped the floor with yer ass during those episodes of that Debate reality show, Bro-gadoccio), no matter how much her plans included everybody, your reluctant Republi-Bro buds spread enough bullshit about her to make everyone distrust her.
Yo, you played that shit like a bro-boe, too (see what I did there, dude? Bro-boe? Oboe? Damn). Apparently there’s nothing more fun than smirking when someone who’s smart gets their brainiac ass handed to ‘em on a greasy Wal-Mart paper plate by Middle America.
And serioso, dude. Your homies portrayed this country’s diversity and stuff as the scariest motherfucker since the Cold War. A few of of our brothers in low-melanin-count are even bum-rushing and beating the shit out of anyone not in the fraternity. A lot. I’m big on horror movies, Bro-stronomer, but that’s some repugnant Invasion of the Body Snatchers-meets-Dawn of the Dead shit that even I can’t get down with.
And speaking of more horror-movie shit, there was that dead horse (fuck that, Bro, dead miniature pony) you said some other bros found in a field after that one kegger. You remember, Bro-hard? The one with the words ’Hillary Clinton Emails’ branded on its left ass-cheek? What you did with that was some full-on cannibal-movie, Eli Roth action.
The nag’s right cheek has a ‘Benghazi’ tattoo on it.
At first it was so small a lot of people didn’t even notice or give a shit. But you and your homies didn’t just beat that carcass: You shoved those stubby digits into the blood and gnarly viscera shit, and then flung all that flesh and bone and meat right into everyone’s faces. It was all so nasty that no one noticed it was all special effects and shitty CGI (stands for Cable-Generated Ignorance, btw). Well played, Broseph. And when that FBI bro Comey ‘fessed up to how fake that shit was, just days before the Showdown at the Bro-K Corral, well, you coulda knocked me on my ass with a Q-Tip, Brobespierre.
I gotta know how you got so many girls to vote for you, Brocephus. I thought you’d go from Hero to Zero with that pussy-grabbing shit. Maybe some chicks thought black people and Muslims were more threatening than getting their Holiest of Holy manhandled by those stubby little fingers? No comprende, Shetland Bro-ny.
Dude, I gotta be honest. I don’t know why the rest of us white bros didn’t just show your ass the door before shit got (un)real. Those really lame-ass frat pledges—the ones with the crooked crosses and pointy pillowcases on their heads—are making all the rest of us pretty shamed-out, Bro-Peep, and you are royally cock-blocking our chances to have any chicks come willingly to any US fraternity keggers over the next four years.
And forget about having any cool bands or hip hop acts at the parties, Brotum. Hell no, Snoop Dogg doesn’t wanna be sharing air space (or weed) with you or Bannon (Side-Bro-bar: I mean, look at the Bann-meister, Bro. Grubby, Stubby Chick Repellant. For reals, my man.)
And sorry to break it to you, but most of the cool bands and musicians are total libtards. That means for White House galas, you’re gonna end up with, I don’t know, Lee Greenwood’s ‘Proud to be an American,’ or maybe Scott Baio doing an interpretive reading of Mein Kampf excerpts. That’s a sign of the apocalypse, mi amigo (the Scott Baio actually-performing-in-public as much as the Mein Kampf bits, Bro-gadoon).
“It is not truth that matters, but victory, Bro!”
On the upside, you doing this shit has really motivated me to, like, sign scores of petitions and donate Benjamins (OK, it’s more like Lincolns and Jacksons ‘cause I’m a poor motherfucker) and volunteer for shit I believe in. Like this. And this. And this. Fight the Bro-cus Pocus with focus, I say.
More fiber, bro. Eat more fiber. It won’t hurt as much. (Photo: Getty Images/Andy Katz: Paid for by my broke ass, and legal for editorial use. Don’t taze me–or sue–me, Bro.)
Now that you’ve punched the GOP elephant in the nuts, insulted decorated war heroes and their families, made fun of disabled dudes, talked up this Pink Floyd The Mexican Wall shit, pushed to kick Muslims outta the kegger, and bromanced with some seriously wack-ass dudes from the Kappa Kappa Kappa Fraternity (wink, wink), It’s a little hard to swallow you being all up with the We-are-The-World, let’s-build-bridges shit now that you’ve won. Not your style, Bro-holio.
But I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt. I kinda don’t have a choice. Then again, who knows? Maybe you do give more than 1/4 of a rat’s ass about someone else besides the orange bro in the mirror.
I’m gonna offer you some words of advice now, Brohemian, even though you’ve kinda got a habit of checking out when someone tries to tell you shit. Step up, outgrow the fraternity, and legit give a fair shake to every American regardless of their race, gender, religion, or how much they hate your ass. If you can really swing that, you might rise from a crusted up shit-and-ugliness cocoon as a stone-foxy political butterfly ready to serve (that’s another thing: This is a public service job, Brofessional. A JOB. Gotta work with people and not go half-cocked dissing and hating ‘em).
Like I said, a lot of your bro-spirators are laying some serious hurt on blacks, Muslims, chicks, Hispanics, Jews, and gay people. And Bro, it’s got me pretty irate. You’re the least racist guy you know, so it should be go-with-the-flow simple to hold a press conference and seriously, hardcore DENOUNCE that shit (a couple of words on 60 Minutes are loogies on a volcano eruption, Bro). Maybe you will. I’m gonna give you way more of a chance than you gave a lot of pro rivals (and blacks, and Mexicans, and Jews, and Muslims, and gays, and anyone you hired and didn’t pay, Bro-pa-dope).
Admit you’re wrong sometimes, Bro. Really try to learn and understand everything around you. Learn to compromise. And desist with the scowling like Grandpa pinching an extra-painful dry loaf. Not very presidential-looking, dude.
Maybe you’re punking all of us, and you’re gonna be amazing. You were pretty libtard not long ago (do the other members of the White Bro fraternity know that? They might use the other F word: Y’know, flip-flop). If that’s your secret game, awesome. Congrats, and best of luck in helping to rebuild the people’s trust.
But I hope all that talk about reaching out across party lines ain’t just you groping for some poor chick’s lady bits. And if you really are the most morally ugly, racist, fascist, xenophobic (look it up, Bro-fessor), morally-grubbed-out, contemptuous (again, look it up, Bro-lo) human ever to hold public office; just another lard-laden moneyed pig with his face buried in the trough the same as every other mainstream politician pissing in the Cheerios of every poor chick and bro who voted for you, then fuck you, Bro.
Fuck you really hard.
