Dear Donald J. Turnip:
I just wanted to let you know that my husband and I received our stimulus money today — our tax dollars at work to jump start the economy.
I was eternally grateful that it came in the form of a direct deposit so we didn’t have to wait for a paper check with your ludicrous signature on it. Who the hell did you think you were fooling with your stupid plan to sign those checks, Daddy Warbucks? As ignorant as your MAGA followers are, surely even they know that the money came from IRS coffers that they pay into—and that it wasn’t a gift from their over-bronzed god.
But I digress. What I really wanted to tell you is how we plan to stimulate the economy with our share of the loot. Here are 10 ways we’re planning to spread the wealth and use that money to the best effect:
- Order toilet paper specially printed with your photo on it.
- Install a sensor on my television that mutes the sound every time you show up onscreen flapping your jaws.
- Buy you a civics textbook and highlight all the parts about the Constitution and separation of powers and states’ rights. Look for it in the mail really soon. Andrew Cuomo and Gavin Newsom said they’d be happy to come over and read it to you.
- Buy face masks for your pandemic response team, since you obviously won’t provide them, you cheap, ignorant bastard.
- Get a few of those clever DJT piñatas I keep seeing for sale by a roadside vendor in Elgin, Texas. I’m going to fill them with candy and toiletries and send them to the kids still locked up at the border.
- Donate to the Society of Professional Journalists and ask them to establish scholarship funds in the names of all the women in the White House press corps that you keep insulting.
- Donate to the Sierra Club, Greenpeace and the World Wildlife Federation in the name of your idiot big-game hunting sons.
- Donate to the World Health Organization.
- Donate to the ACLU.
- Donate to Joe Biden’s campaign right away.
I hope this note finds you struggling with insomnia and the weight of the world on your shoulders. I hope your inept handling of this pandemic on U.S. soil and your total disregard for early intelligence briefings is causing you crushing guilt. I hope you are never fully able to wash the blood off your hands — no matter how much hand soap and sanitizer Little Android Jared has stockpiled for you in the Lincoln Bedroom. I hope you choke on your next big bite of hamberder and spill hot covfefe all over yourself.
A U.S. citizen who has been mortified for the last three years