If you have yet to read the recent letter Donald Trump wrote Nancy Pelosi, trust me and do so.
It’s terrific. Truly. Because it will make you feel extraordinarily intelligent. You’ll read it and think, “Wow, it’s true. Anyone can be president.” The document—written from the same perch occupied by Washington and Lincoln, Kennedy and Reagan—is penned at a
fifthfourth-grade level, with the angry snipes of a pigeon stuck in an oil slick. It has 0 percent grace and even less elegance.
If the White House was once a sight to be accompanied by a symphony, it’s now a hovel to be accompanied by the theme to “Hee-Haw.” It’s the land of grifters and squatters and people dumb enough to think they’re sophisticated and smart enough to fool the dumb into thinking they are sophisticated. It’s a log of poop in a puddle.
Donald Trump’s letter wasn’t sleek. It wasn’t thought-provoking. It was the honking of a horn in morning traffic. It was a goose screaming at a passer-by. It was idiocy. Pure idiocy.
This is our president.