An open letter to Mr. Donald Trump
Hello Mr. Trump,
You have recently announced that you would like to be the next President of the United States. I would like to take just five minutes of your time to review with you your qualifications for this post and invite you to my home.
I have heard you say many times that you are a billionaire and thus you understand our economy. I wonder if you understand the part where our economy runs on a large, underground network of people willing to do backbreaking work for cash in hand? Did you think that everyone who cooks meals, does nails, washes dishes, mows lawns, picks lettuce and packs meat is getting minimum wage and regular checkups from OSHA? If so, then you owe them respect and a thank you for doing what we are not. If you did not know that, then you are not qualified to be President. If you did know that and would like to change it, please mail me a copy of your plan and I’ll post it right here on this site.
You have said, as a candidate for President, that you don’t respect as war heroes the people who “got caught.” Am I to understand you do respect people fighting for a better way of life who do not get caught? What isn’t you didn’t like about Senator McCain? His service to his country or that he lacked an essential element to pass through a hostile territory unimpeded? Just curious. Oh, and if there’s an answer to that, I’ll post that as well. Right here.
But most importantly, Mr Trump: you have thrown your hat in the ring to become the leader of the United States. You seem pretty clear on what “States” are, you went down to a state next to Mexico and frowned thoughtfully at some fences. You promised better border control. I think where you are probably falling down is on “United.” Here’s why I think this. You want to keep people who are not citizens from coming over the border unlawfully, and that part holds water. We’d need to have a long talk about all of the bullet points in the first part of this letter, yet I see the essential substance. We say it’s illegal, and we don’t want people to break the law to arrive in our country. But (and I’m sure you could sense this coming) you didn’t say that. You said the “people coming over” (this is you talking, now)
…They’re sending people that have lots of problems, and they’re bringing those problems to us. They’re bringing drugs.They’re bringing crime. They’re rapists. And some, I assume, are good people! But I speak to border guards and they tell us what we’re getting. And it only makes common sense. They’re sending us not the right people. It’s coming from more than Mexico. It’s coming from all over South and Latin America, and it’s coming probably from the Middle East.
The people coming over aren’t The Right Kind Of People. You think the murderers, the rapists, the criminals, you think those are the people coming from Mexico. My husband came here from another country to blatantly take a job AND an American wife. I notice you don’t care he crossed the border. What exactly about my husband doesn’t concern you? Is he the Right Kind? He didn’t want an under-the-table job? He fits in? He fits in how? Use exact language here. Words have been important for at least 43 of our Presidents.
Good, decent, hardworking people desperate for a better life are just an afterthought you made a flippant comment about so you don’t get accused of stereotyping. We arrive at my problem. My son was born to people who came from Mexico. I don’t know anything about them. I don’t know how they got here, why they came, if they came alone or in a group. Just like everything else in my son’s life his biological roots are a mystery to me. Mr. Trump, help me solve my problem.
I am inviting you to my house, anytime from today until November 2016, to come look at my son. I need your expert opinion on which group of criminals he descended from. I’ll give you a head start. Here he is:
I even made him look as Mexican as I could, what with the Zorro and all. Do you need to come hold him to determine if he’s more likely to be a drug dealer or a murderer? Would it help if I tell you his favorite food is peaches and he laughs uproariously when I tickle under his neck fat? Should you know he loves his stuffed elephant and cries when a sneeze scares him? Or do you need to know how brown he is? In case that’s the deciding factor, I have included this handy comparison:
Or, there’s one last metric that I’m sure you’ll agree works. Let’s give it 20 years. 20 years of him growing up in an America that makes assumptions about his status, his criminal history and life potential based on whatever an ignorant, racist asshole (trying to buy public office as a hobby) says when a microphone is shoved in his face. I’m sorry, have I unfairly characterized you based only on your past, words, deeds and self-presentation? If I have, come to my house. Come here and look me in the eye and tell me I am wrong. Tell me that you understand “United” means if I’m stuck with you then you’re stuck with us. I want you to hold my child and say, on camera, that you have some understanding of why what you said matters. If you really, really want a united United States I invite you to come meet Everything America Has to Fear. He’ll be in our living room, eating peaches.
Reblogged this on The Adventures of Fort Gaskin-Burr.