Dear Dr. Jackson,
I knew this wasn't going to work out well.
It wasn't the drinking. As far as I'm concerned, former combat surgeons should be able to drink as much as they want. Hell, I've been intoxicated on the job a few times myself. But I worked in retail.
Far more damaging to your image was that creepy and ridiculous performance you gave when you went on television to convince the world that Donald Trump was a veritable marvel of genetic perfection, even though he is obviously a slab of ham.
And that Montreal Cognitive Assessment (see previous post, I Got a 30!)??? Please. That's the kind of thing you give someone before letting them have the car keys, not nuclear weapons. I have to admit, there was some erosion of your credibility after that.
But what REALLY sank your ship, pardon the pun, was the fact that you were so willing and eager to take on an important job for which you had zero qualifications. Let's be honest, your status as a veteran no more gives you the credentials to run the Department of Veterans Affairs, than my status as a former teacher gives me the credentials to be the Secretary of Education. Or maybe it does. It certainly makes me more qualified than Betsy DeVos.
As for you, sir: You will now take your place amongst the ever-expanding universe of ill-starred Trump-associated silly people. Who could probably use some prescription meds.
And there, Dr. Jackson, you will wait.
Patiently. Until it is your turn to be on Dancing with the Stars.
Best of luck,
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