Skip to main content

presidenting is hard :: full stop.

it's been a while, donald, but i'm back again, to give you a few pointers on how you can pretend just a little bit that you know how to do the job that you've been tasked with doing. i feel like there's a lot you need to learn, none of which i'm qualified to teach you, but you're veering so far off course that i feel like someone needs to at least nudge you back towards the right direction before you end up getting all of us killed with your twitter account. [and i say "us" in this situation, because, although we are proud of having nothing to do with your victory, we canadians know that bombs, like you, are not as smart as they like to think they are, and therefore anything you do to rain shit on american heads is going to blow back on us.]

it's quickly drawing to the end of your first year in office. you are the least popular president of all time after a year, although i guess that means that you're winning at something. and while you're boasting about having accomplished more than any president in history is clearly a load of crap in legislative terms, it's certainly true that you've managed to do things like appoint a lot of unqualified judges and your out-and-out attack on science would make our former prime minister stephen harper proud. so, in a sense, you aren't entirely wrong [which, by your standards, is roughly the same as being right]: you have managed to do a lot of stuff. terrifying, damaging stuff. the thing with what you've accomplished, though, is that most of it has made you look like more of an idiot than ever. in the new year, i would suggest that you make a resolution to stop taking actions that make you look like a moron. you don't really need the help.

and as long as we're talking about things you need to stop doing immediately, i'd like to suggest another: stop talking about hillary clinton. we all know that you have some sort of weird obsession with her, because she was more popular than you even though she had decades of ill will and a significant contingent who hated her because of her gender, but jesus h. christ, give it a rest. you know who's not talking about hillary clinton? senator-elect doug jones. indeed, the people who are organising against you are less interested in hillary than you are in learning about policy. yeah, you didn't even think that was possible. you can rile up some of your most rabid fans just by mentioning hillary's name, but the fact is that the rest of the country, particularly the parts of it that think you're a wart on the face of american history, is over her. they're much more into getting behind local candidates to smash away at the foundations of your gaudy tower one blow at a time. [note: digging away one smaller election at a time is actually way more fun than i'd ever realised. still not worth losing to you and your cronies, but fulfilling nonetheless.]

even more than hillary clinton, though, you need to stop talking about robert mueller. every time you open your shaped-like-a-hen's-hole mouth [expression my grandmother taught me], you make the contrast between the two of you that much sharper. mueller never says anything, because he doesn't have to. he just lets you do you, and waits for others to find photos of him in vietnam, or to reference his very public record of service and open republicanism, or to remind people that he and his golden boy, james comey, stood steadfast over the hospital bed of the attorney general, ready to walk away from their careers over the issue of warrantless wiretapping. every time you see video of mueller and his team, it feels like they should have the theme from dragnet playing in the background. you think that you're scary because you've been able to shout down  people who you've hired or contracted. robert mueller has stared death in the face and has held the lives of others in his hands. you are not going to win this staring contest. you will have pissed your cheap-looking pants before robert mueller blinks. you know how terrified you were of your father? mueller is like that, but doesn't feel like he's bound to you by blood, and is about twenty times smarter. [but you already know that, don't you?]

once you've stopped doing those things, the only thing remaining to do, the thing that will help you the most, is to stop talking at all. it's true that i hadn't heard a president of the united states say "merry christmas" in nearly a year before you started doing it, but i don't feel like that's enough of an accomplishment to warrant putting up with the rest of the shit that comes out of your mouth. people rag on you a lot [rightly so] for saying dumb things on twitter like that climate change and weather are the same thing, or that you've delivered a middle class tax cut, or that you're popular. but the fact is that you often look worst when you're trying to answer questions or talk about the things you're supposed to know about as president. many people, including your own supporters, have said that you should stop tweeting to avoid making yourself [and, by extension, them] look bad. but i think you need to take this a step further: you need to stop talking entirely. i don't care how you do this, whether you say it's an inordinately long case of laryngitis that also affects your fingers, or that you're too busy to utter even a single syllable, but you need to shut up. since you were sworn in, you have not said a single thing that has been helpful, reassuring, profound or inspiring. quite the opposite. we all know that presidents can't be aware of every single thing that happens in government, but they at least need to have an understanding of the major points. in lieu of even the most basic understanding, though, you can help your cause the most by not saying anything. remember the old adage: better to be silent and thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.

i know that's quite a lot of things for you to stop doing in order to improve things. there are others, of course, such as "stop golfing" so that the media is less able to mock you for vacation time that you take. [and by the way, i used to date a golfer. it is not a venue in which business is done. it is a venue where privileged, predominantly white and predominantly male people gather to stroll and chat in ways that make them feel that they're actually accomplishing something, things that could be accomplished in a five minute telephone conversation.]

i could also say "stop meeting foreign leaders", since the only ones that you seem to get along with are dictators, and the others just kind of mock you when you're not looking [or when you are looking, but too stupid to notice it]. i come from another country. we have our own problems, but we overwhelmingly think you're a buffoon, which is pretty much the case in every country on earth except for russia and israel. seriously, when there are rumours that the first lady of japan pretended not to speak english in order to avoid talking to you, it's not a good sign of how well thought of you are.

for that matter, i could advise that you stop wearing those awful fucking suits. who dresses you? why do they hate you so much? these are questions for the ages, and, frankly, we don't have time to worry about them now. later on, people will wonder how millions of americans were fooled into thinking that you were what a high class rich dude looks like, but that will be after some hero has managed to wrest control from you and your billionaire buddies and take strides towards solving the problems that inexplicably plague the world's richest country.

reflecting on it, i can't think of a single thing that you should continue doing. breathing, maybe, because i absolutely don't want you to die. i want you to live a long and healthy life in prison, looking out through the bars onto the wreckage of your tacky empire. i want to know that you are getting day passes from prison to be taken to ceremonies that see your name removed from the edifices that are tainted by its presence, while an audience of americans cheers. i want to know that you, along with your odious family and close confidantes, are able to witness the repudiation of everything about you. otherwise, it's no fun.

but beyond that, i can't think of anything you're doing now that you should keep doing. you're that ridiculously incompetent. you're that pathetic. in 2018, the only thing you need to do is stop. 

Comments

as long as you're here, why not read more?

jihadvertising?

i keep seeing this ad for tictac candies:



am i the only one who finds the suicide bomber clown at the end a little unnerving? all the nice natural things like the bunny and the [extinct] woolly mammoth and the fruit get devoured by a trying-to-appear-nonthreatening-but-obviously-psychotic clown who then blows himself up. congratulations, tictac, i think this ad has landed you on about a dozen watch lists.

oh and by the way, showing me that your product will somehow cause my stomach to explode in a rainbow of wtf makes me believe that doing consuming tictacs would be a worse dietary decision than the time i ate two raw eggs and a half a bottle of hot sauce on a dare.

armchair centre back :: finding your best boss

everything i know about bosses, i've learned from watching the premier league this year. 

it's been a long time since i posted about my love of football [soccer], possibly because i was traumatised by seeing my darlings swansea city getting mauled week after week, all the while looking like they were playing for the right to choose between being executed by guillotine or firing squad. it's been a very long season. well, half a season. suddenly, however, it doesn't seem so bad. the reason for that is very clear: carlos carvalhal. swansea's new portuguese manager is a breath of fresh air, and a complete switch from the focused and pragmatic paul clement. now, i liked paul clement, and i think that his internship at some of the best clubs in the world made him a real catch. it's just that sometimes you need to find someone who connects with your team, your people, which carlos definitely seems to have done. as the days lengthen and the weather shows some signs of…

digging for [audio] treasure

my computer tells me that i need to cut down the amount of music stored on my overstuffed hard drive. my ears tell me that that would deprive me of some wonderful listening experiences. 
halifax, nova scotia was not the easiest place to find out about music with limited appeal. it was a very music-centred city, to be sure, but, being smaller, things like noise, industrial, and experimental music struggled to gain a foothold, even as the alternative rock scene exploded in the early nineties. i was lucky enough to have some friends who were happy to share music that they loved, but i knew that there were lots of things that i was missing out on.

with the dawn of the internet, and various types of music sharing, i found myself able to discover bands that i'd heard about, but never managed to track down, from the days of underground cassette culture. and, to my surprise and elation, many of them do very much live up to what i'd imagined from reading descriptions of them in catalo…