"...sadness at this parting. To this place, and the kindness of these people, I owe everything." — Abraham Lincoln, Farewell Address at Springfield, Illinois.
Excuse me. I never promised you a Rose Garden, right, folks?
Oh, what a life, until the pandemic happened to me. We have a fantastic economy, a bull stock market, unbelievable crowd sizes. At least, I HAD those things.
But to get hit with a hoax coronavirus is like Hillary's Salem witch revenge. I'm like, did this have to happen to me before the election? Maybe my work is done here.
Flying high, people loved their president, and I was winning BIG in 2020. Blowing away Obama's average Joe. He just stays home in his basement. C'mon out to play, Joe! You're running for president!
They say he's way ahead. It's his game, to let me be me.
But now it's going to be the greatest election disaster in history. Rigged. We'll see, my new postmaster general and me. I love the post office. But I hate mail-in voting.
Look, I was willing to live in this dump four more years. As long as I never speak to the speaker, Crazy Nancy Drew. She thinks she's so smart.
I never wanted this job, anyway. I ran to build a Trump Tower in Moscow. I just did in politics what I do in life and business. There's no difference. Trash talk worked like a charm.
But now the country reminds me of my companies that went bankrupt. No get-up-and-go. WEAK. Shambles, full of scaredy-cats. It's pathetic when Deborah and Fauci talk about more cases and spread.
(Don't ask me how many COVID-19 deaths there have been. I really don't care. It is what it is.)
We're doing a great job, as well as any nation. I let the governors call their own shots. It's really all their fault.
So, stop the testing, please! Schools, get ready to reopen. The vaccine is on the way. We told the drug companies, October at the latest.
Masks? They make people mad. Us and them. I look pretty good in one, but a mask messes up my hair, and my hair has to be perfect!
I get tired of all the advice when I'd rather be tweeting. Being a Trump adviser is the easiest thing in the world because I just don't take the advice. The Constitution says I can do whatever I want.
One question: Why was John Lewis' face everywhere? All he did was get his head kicked in, and everybody loves him. He didn't come to my inauguration.
If we had law and order on that bridge, John wouldn't live to tell the story.
Nobody likes me. It must be my personality. I don't have any friends, not even a dog, unless you count little Lindsey Graham.
The new book by my niece Mary says I'm made in my father's image. Thank you! My father, Fred, was a killer.
Here's our playbook: Talk big. Smile less. Scowl more. And the truth is what you say it is — if you say it enough, over and over and over. If only Fred could see his boy, the juvenile delinquent, now.
Of course, I'd win if I wanted to. It's all in the beautiful post office plan. But I don't feel any appreciation from governors, no love from senators. Nobody backed me up on delaying the election. Hello, Mitch?
No loyalty, even from Fox News! Chris Wallace contradicted me on the air!
And what if you gave a party convention and nobody came? How fun is that? The party's over, folks. You don't deserve me anymore.
Air Force One doesn't have the same crowd. After all the witch hunts, the campaign was my sweet revenge tour. Rallies are what I really live for.
Vlad says I can build the tower now. So, I'm hanging up my bone spurs. Doctor says it's spreading to the brain. Hate to say goodbye, but it's a free country, folks! No tears! I pardon myself.
"Your union and brotherly affection may be perpetual ... the free Constitution, which is the work of your hands, may be sacredly maintained." — George Washington, Farewell Address.
Jamie Stiehm can be reached at JamieStiehm.com. To read her weekly column and find out more about Creators Syndicate columnists and cartoonists, please visit creators.com.