I don’t tweet, Myself, but I do follow you for shits and giggles. Let Me tell you, your latest tweet to Iran made Me sit up in My poolside lounge chair at The Four Seasons. I nearly spilled My Mai Tai. It was masterful. While most serious onlookers are now convinced that you are not only a demented, narcissistic man-baby, they’re beginning to believe that you are a dangerously deranged, demented, narcissistic man-baby. I’d do that finger kiss thing that the Italians do, but I have suntan lotion all over My hands.
In case you’ve already moved on to your next diatribe and can’t remember it, here is your Iran masterpiece:
I must say, you remind Me of a young Me. I’m no slouch in the over-the-top threat department, Myself. Remember when I threatened to kill all but eight people on earth by drowning every other man, woman and child? Or how about when I threatened genocide to Amalek? “Do not spare them, but kill both man and woman, child and infant, ox and sheep, camel and donkey,” I said. Or, ooh, ooh… remember when I threatened to smite Egypt? Yeah, I used to be a lot more hands-on.
But, and I say this in a helpful way, there’s a big difference between your threats and My threats. Can you spot it? You probably can’t because you’re having an aid read this to you while you admire yourself in a hand mirror, so I’ll help you. The difference is – I deliver. You might have threatened to sue everyone from your trash collector to the people who made that Trump-baby balloon, you might have threatened to fire everyone who ever smiled at Obama, but when I threaten someone they die a horrible, undeserved death. Noah’s little baby nephew? Died choking on rainwater. The furry little Amalek sheep? Had their adorable faces smashed in. The Pharaoh’s teen-aged son? Internal organs turned to mush.
Admittedly, I can’t be bothered anymore because I’m enjoying My vacation too much, but I used to stomp through the Middle East smashing My metaphorical boot down on the necks of any-Me-damned-body I wanted. But you, you’re being too wishy-washy. Let Me give you some advice that will probably be even more appropriate once Mueller gets to you. Just like in prison, you’ve got to pick out the biggest bad-ass in the joint and just go ape-shit on them. Head butt them, shiv them, bite their testicles – whatever it takes to convince everyone that you’re not the weak Nelly that voice in the back of your head keeps telling you you are. Normally, I’d advise you to attack whoever attacks you to set an example, but I know I can’t convince you to attack your boss, Vlad. So, since you’ve already made the threat, you’re going to have to come down on President Rouhani like a ton of bricks.
I know your style runs more along the lines of opening a casino in the country, going bankrupt and then trying to sue Rouhani after he laughs at you, but this is no time for half measures. I’m talking genocide. Think The Untouchables. They threaten you, (whether they actually did or not), you bomb the country to glass. You need to atomize babies, irradiate puppies make goats glow in the dark. You’ve got to show people that not only can you talk like an insane parrot, you can act like one.
Then, once every man, woman and child in the country is radioactive ash blowing on the wind, maybe people will forget about your treason.
Wish You Were Here,