Donald Trump’s Letter to Pope Francis *
Sunday, March 25, 2018
Dear Pope Francis,
Your Holiness, how are you doing? The last time we met, your face was gloomy until I stood up to leave. I hope this letter meets you in a better mood. I have forgiven you for spending only twenty-nine minutes with me when you spent over one hour with Obama in 2014. I have asked God to forgive you, for you did not know what you were doing.
Just so you know, after you asked my wife if she fed me their popular Slovenian cake, she ordered one from Uber Eats. Not my kind of cake. I’m perfectly okay with MacDonald’s.
You know that I am not your kind of Christian and I do not need anything from your God. But I do think we can work together on a few things. So, stop checking out my Christian credentials. Check out my business credentials and my gut feeling. They are in excellent shape. My trinity is made of me, myself, and I. I cannot be wrong when my conscience is right. On my conscience are etched my ten commandments.
I know you were mad that I pulled out of the climate change agreement. Believe me, it is a hoax. I will get my scientists to reveal the secrets of the fake climate science when you visit me. As for the migrants, we’ve had enough of those Mexicans. Do you know that they have brought down the average height of Americans? Preposterous. If you like, let Rome take in more Muslims than there are Christians in Italy. When Muslims surround the Vatican and they start bidding to turn Peter’s tomb into a mosque, you will understand why I’m fighting for you today.
Like so many men of the cloth like you, I know you do not understand me. I am not fretting about it either. Just like you leave some matters to your God in heaven, I leave some matters to my God, which is history books.
People like you think I’m going too far. As president of the greatest nation in the history of mankind, with the greatest army ever assembled by man, I know there is nothing like going too far. I am the “too far” they are talking about. I decide what is far enough and what is too far. The same way I decide what is classified and what is not.
In simple terms, I don’t do sentiments. Believe me, nobody can manipulate me by appealing to my sentimentality. Not me. I see things the way they are, and my first instinct about things has always turned out to be right. It is true, even for projects that I have gone into that failed. Not so many of such, I must say. Even at that, the failure was never my fault.
I’m very tough. I don’t bend to extortion by people who think I owe them. I don’t owe anyone. I fly with my wings. I don’t do favors either, because I don’t need favors from people. I only need people to do the right things – half of which is being loyal. And if they fail to do the right thing, I get rid of them.
I don’t need men or stones to rise up and praise me. The unprecedented crowd that came to the Washington, DC, Mall at my inauguration can disappear. It won’t move me an inch. Unlike losers out there, I don’t do this to hear their chants. I do these things because I can hear the chant of yet unwritten history.
I am entitled to one thing and one thing alone – my own stand from which I will try to move the world, just like anybody else. That I am moving the world the farthest of any other president in history is a tribute to my ingenuity. Believe me, the template of my success will be embraced by the generations yet unborn.
If I allow myself to be emotional like all of you, I will cease to be effective. I will join the rest of you in bending over and exposing my backside to those who specialized in drilling into the body to excavate the soul. Pathetic!
It is easy to betray the climate, the angels who escort rain into the clouds and the God who holds the sky in place. What is not easy to betray is our conscience. I will take the knife from friends and enemies, in the front and at the back, but I will never compromise the very thing that makes me, me. You can take that to the bank.
I have a quick question for you. I would have sent it as a tweet, but I know I don’t want it to leak out to the press. I will write you a comprehensive letter at a later time.
Since they will not allow me to write “Trump” on the beams of the White House, I need to establish new norms and traditions that will live on when I’m gone. I’m thinking of building a new chimney at the White House when I am reelected president. I’m thinking of gathering the Electoral College people in a room that night for them to cast the vote. Can I please send an aide to come to the Vatican City to understudy the history and tradition of the chimney at the Vatican where smoke gushes out with the election of a new pope?
I am seriously thinking of my next inauguration. I want ten million Americans at the Mall. I want our greatest military in the world to have a parade and display our nuclear weapons for the world to see – and for the world to know not to mess with me. I want the parade to be like the Eucharist of our politics. If you could convince your feeble-minded followers for two thousand years that the Eucharist is the body and blood of that Jewish guy, I can convince Americans that the parade is the artery of our nation.
I had this dream where I was in a toga, like a Roman emperor with a crown on my head. As I was inspecting a parade, Mike Pence stabbed me in the back and ran into the White House. Pope, pray for Pence. Remind him that I am not as naïve as Caesar and he is not as smart as Brutus.
My whole life I have always believed that if one must think, why not think big? If you allow me to send an aide to study your smoke chimney, I can use that opportunity to send Michael Cohen out of the country on a special assignment to the Vatican.
If you do this for me, I will ask my wife’s parents to cook potica, your favorite Slovenian dessert, for you.
I await your discreet response.
Yours truly,
Donald J. Trump
The 45th President of the United States of America.
