Trump’s Real Letter Of Condolence To John Travolta Is INSANE
Dear Donald J. Trump:
We'd like to open this letter with a sincere apology. Over the last few months, we and all the other shambling appendages of the Mainstream Media have given you shit for tweeting this after the shooting in Orlando:
And for tweeting this after the tragic death of Nykea Aldridge, whom you decided to rename "Dwayne Wade's cousin":
And of course, there was the time you misspelled Phyllis Schlafly's name on this tweet of condolence, which you also used to plug your own campaign:
But then footage surfaced of you bragging about having the new tallest building in Manhattan on the day after 9/11, and we started to get worried. But once we sat down and really thought about it, we started to think that this behavior legitimately may not be your fault. What if this isn't just you being a self-aggrandizing asshole with no sense of shame or self awareness? What if it's simply a case of no one ever explaining to you how to offer condolences? What if you think it's your responsibility to comfort the grieving by distracting them from their loss and focusing all their attention on you?
And so, giving you the biggest benefit that so often accompanies doubt, we'd like to offer you a tutorial on responsible co-grieving. As a template, we'll use the recently surfaced open letter you wrote for John Travolta and Kelly Preston in 2009, after the tragic death of their 16-year-old son.
Before we dive into the letter, we do feel the need to point out a pre-condolence lesson: You posted this on the Trump University website. Websites aren't necessarily a bad place to issue condolences, but the general public considers it rude to offer our well-wishes on the public websites for our scam colleges that bear our names.
"Prove it to me! Get on your knees, fuck-pig!"
What we typically try to do is limit our letters to billboards with our personal logo underneath. Or maybe sprawled across the fronts of our casinos. It's just more tasteful that way. That being said, let's go over your original letter. The one that you wrote, for real. To parents whose son had just died four days earlier.
I have always respected people who were loyal and faithful -- which brings to mind Kelly Preston.
That's a nice sentiment and a great start. The mother and father are going to be in a lot of pain, so it's important to remind them how strong and respected they are. They're going to need that strength and support in the days -- nay, years -- to come.
A long time ago, before I was married, I met Kelly Preston at a club and worked like hell to try and pick her up. She was beautiful, personable, and definitely had allure. At the time I had no idea she was married to John Travolta.
Alright, do you see what you did there? Instead of telling Kelly you grieve for the loss of her little boy, you mentioned the time you tried to fuck her. This is what most ethicists would call "unspeakably shameful" and most psychiatrists would call "psychopathic." When us regulars write our condolence letters, we tend to leave out stories about once trying super hard to fuck the mother of the recently departed.
Or the father, for that matter.
In any event, my track record on this subject has always been outstanding, but Kelly wouldn't give me the time of day. She was very nice, very elegant, but I didn't have a chance with her, and that was that.
Most people don't need to be told this, but it's actually almost never OK to brag about your powers of seduction in a letter about a dead kid. No matter how much you want people to know how much of that sweet poontang you get, the mother and father typically don't want to hear about it four days after their son's death. You might consider in the future, saving those stories for a more lighthearted gathering, like a cocktail party or a full-fledged orgy. Two weeks after the funeral is a good rule of thumb.
When I later found out she was married to John, I liked and respected her even more. Some people have values that matter to them, and she is one of them. Her loyalty was unwavering and I have always remembered that about her.
So we're about three-quarters of the way through your letter of condolences here, and you haven't actually mentioned the deceased's name once. That's a red flag. So is bragging about fucking. Especially the fucking part.
Being true to someone is very close to being true to yourself. That's a valuable attribute in today's world. I'm sure she was a wonderful mother to Jett and my thoughts are with her and her family after their terrible loss.
Perfect. Well, the last sentence was perfect. The part before that, where you insinuated that "not fucking Donald Trump" is a valuable attribute to have, while true, probably doesn't belong in a letter to a mother and father who have yet to cease crying for more than a few minutes of broken, nightmare-saturated sleep.
Thankfully, that's where you ended it, but if there's one overall note we could give you about faking empathy after the tragic loss of a child, it would be this: Type out everything in your heart, end it with an "I'm sorry for your loss," and then delete everything but that last sentence. If you follow that one rule obsessively, you'll really improve your numbers with the crucial "cares about basic human decency" demographic.
Robert Evans just wrote a book, A Brief History of Vice, about how sex, drugs and bad behavior built civilization. You can buy it now!