Send Me On My Speeding Exit

How did I get to this point? I mean, I wanted to be President of course. Who wouldn’t want to wield that sort of power? However, and this is a highly difficult thing for someone as tremendous as me to admit, I suppose that I wanted to be the leader of the free world in the same way as I want to go to the moon. It’s a nice enough idea in the abstract and the notion of being able to look down on the lesser folks like disease ridden tiny ants. But in reality it’s something that takes me away from loads of other things I’d definitely rather be doing.

But what am I to do? It goes against every single fibre of my being from the ends of my one hundred per cent real and not remotely thinning hair to the tips of my incredibly long and graceful fingers to admit that I’ve got myself in over my head. I could knuckle down and do the very best job that anyone’s ever done in the Oval Office (and I am including Monica for consideration there). Even if I did, people wouldn’t give me the credit I deserve. Not only for being a self made businessman but also being a credible and legitimate dictator. Forget the word dictator. Fake news.

So I have absolutely no other choices. I definitely have to milk this gravy train for all it’s worth until they chuck me out. It can’t take all that much more can it? I’ve already spunked thousands of dollars of taxpayer money on jaunts down to Florida, I’ve targeted women’s rights, harped on about the damn wall as often as possible, banned people from visiting based on religion, stolen healthcare from vast swathes of the population and you don’t want to know what I’m working on next. People of America, I’m begging you, send me on my speeding exit.

Song choices courtesy of: Rusted Root, Walking on Cars and The Script

 

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