For Three Glorious Days Everyone Thought Donald Was Dead

Soon.

Dear Humans,

Hi there! I hope you’re having a relaxing weekend. Thank you for thy love and support. If you haven’t already, please subscribe now if you can.

Lo, President Dark Hands Donald Trump was not seen for three days. As a result, many people have been saying that he died. Sadly, today however, he was seen on a golf course looking alive and unwell.

I’m terribly sorry about that. But don’t worry, I PROMISE YOU that despite the best efforts of medical science, this motherfucker will eventually die and go burn in hell for all eternity with Rush Limbaugh.

I’ve already sent three emails, two text messages, and left a very angry voicemail with The Grim Reaper. The bastard even left me on read. Best answer I can get is “SOOON!!!”

But it begs the question, what will you do when Donald dies? What will I do? WE HAD BETTER BE READY! Because the fascists? They’re ready. This week, JD Vance announced he’s cracking to go if and when Donald “God forbid” dies. Donald even publicly wondered if he will get to Heaven. The answer to that is obviously “hell no.”

Let me tell you what I will do when Donald finally croaks. When Death finally responds and says it’s finally doing its fucking job, the first thing I will do is pop a bottle of champagne I’ve been saving since the night he was first elected. Then I will light up a joint I have rolled with an entire ounce of premium quality weed. I will take a massive rip off this God joint, and then wash it down with a toast with Jesus.

Then I will run to the window and ask the nearest person if it’s still Christmas. Confused, they will say no, it’s 9/11. Then they will start to say “don’t celebrate because Vance is still…” and then I will furiously throw some pocket change at them and tell them to buy the biggest Christmas goose they can find. Merry Deathmas, you filthy animals.

Then I will jump on top of my car half-nekkid and start dancing to, “Ding Dong the Witch Is Dead” at maximum volume.

Then I will race to my Throne and laugh my ass off at Donald as he arrives for final judgment. Before he can say a word, I will walk right up and smack him across the face as hard as I can. I won’t be able to help it. Then I will motion and he will be bound and gagged by a masked St. Peter and thrown into the back of a FIRE Police Van to be deported to Hell.

I will lock Donald in the CECOT of Hell and force him to listen to every single post I have written in this newsletter, Letters From God. I won’t recite them myself as I have parties to be, drugs to do, and people to screw. I’ll just let him listen to the British narration. When I’m done partying, I’ll come back to find him in a pool of piss, shit, vomit, and tears. And that’s when I’ll turn on MSNBC for a nice long marathon.

I have lots of other notions. But it still doesn’t feel like enough. I’m not ready! How will you celebrate when the big day comes?

Love,

God