Dear Mr. Trump,
Whew! What a day you've had! I'm sure right now you're gratefully sinking back into the vibrating easy-chair in your padded cell at the White House, enjoying a Diet Coke and a foot massage from your new bromance, Anthony Scaramucci.
He's quite a character, that Anthony! My first reaction was, "Who's this clown?" A little Cousin Vinny-like for a Harvard law grad, no? Which made it sound like everything that came out of his mouth was bullshit, but maybe he was just a little over-stimulated from basking in your dazzling orange glow.
I gave up counting how many times Mr. Scaramucci said "love" in reference to you and your sundry barnacles during his debut press conference today. And I have to confess that this was a little worrisome, since you and your courtiers are not - how shall I put this? - especially lovable by anything but the slackest of standards. But I was really captivated by his assertion that you had "good karma".
Seriously? Well, you sure didn't rack it up in this lifetime.
Which made me ponder who/what you might have been in your past lifetimes. And I came up with a short list.
- Henry VIII (after he fell on his head).
- Jeff Sessions (oh, wait, he's not dead yet).
- Peter Griffin.
- A wombat.
None of whom would generate much good karma. Perhaps Mr. Scaramucci doesn't fully understand the concept.