Dear Jeb: I'm a Democrat. I dislike your policies. They hurt the country, and bring misery to the lives of regular Americans. However, I do feel your pain. Because Democrats are compassionate. Not from of any religious dictate, but from basic human decency. So, I know what you're going through. Having to sit back and watch that bloviating parade float Donald Trump become your nominee -- America's Berlusconi, turning your precious GOP into the Bunga Bunga party. Having to listen to his moronic statements on serious issues without cringing. Or weeping. It must be like seeing an ex-girlfriend ride off on the back of some guy's Harley, after he stole the bike from your garage, punched out your mother, and violated your dog.
I know how humiliated you must feel. He mocked you. Taunted you. Called you low energy. Insulted your wife. And all you could do was stand there and take it, incapable of lowering yourself to his level to slam him back. Not that you didn't try. You were just incapable. And it was just sad. The man gutted you on national TV. He broke you. And all you wanted was to give America another Bush presidency. Not that we wanted it. The last one was sufficient, thank you very much.
Still, I know it hurt. And I know you think there's nothing you can do but sit back and watch Trump cut a swath of destruction through the country, like a tornado ripping through a trailer park. But there is something you can do, something that would really hurt him. Run. Run as a third party candidate. Yes, I know there's talk of Ben Sasse getting in. But, c'mon, there's no irony in Ben Sasse. You need to do it.
All through the primaries Trump taunted the party by refusing to sign the pledge. Then he signed it. Then he flirted with backing out. He thought he was the one with the third party power. But now you've got it. Do the very thing he taunted you with. Stick it to him. Cut him with his own sword. You must have a few bucks in the coffers. Go Green Party. Libertarian. Bull Moose. Or, given the intellectual level of the debates, the Know-Nothing Party.
Think about it. You'd siphon off enough old-school Republican votes to make sure he'd go down in flames. Sure, Trump will probably screw himself eventually, but who wants to take that chance? We all know he's shrewd, and ruthless. But he's dumb. Way too dumb to actually be president. On a debate stage, Hillary will stomp him like, well, like a protestor at a Trump rally. She'll dazzle him with facts and he'll lose his shit because he won't be able to respond intelligently, and he can't deal with being attacked, especially by a woman. But why take that chance? You're the one who could hurt him now. You know you want to. Imagine the sweet, sweet taste of Jeb's revenge. But if you're just too hurt, too wounded to get back on the campaign trail, I get it. It might be too hard to summon up the facial muscles needed to force out that sad clown smile. Then, do the rest of us a favor, pass this on to the other losers in the Sweet 16.
Carly. He mocked your face. Christie. You endorsed the son of a bitch, then he dragged you around like a pug on a leash. And if he didn't call you fat, he was thinking it. And Marco. Little sweaty Marco. I know you're saving your reputation for 2020. But get out there now and talk some shit. Hit him with the small hands thing again. Lindsey. You're a fun guy. Have a Mint Julep and let that acid tongue loose on the trail. Kasich. For a brief, shining moment, you were the least ugly guy in the bar at last call. Get back out there and stuff your face with ethnic food. And Ted. Lyin' Ted. Instead of venting your anger by forearm smashing your wife in the face, take that evil that swirls around you like Fukushima fallout and channel it for some good, old-fashioned revenge.
Or maybe all of you do it together. I know that sounds socialist, but you'd be uniting to defeat a common enemy. Like when FDR and Churchill met with Stalin at Yalta. Imagine the look on Trump's face when you steal his votes. Jeb can sting him in Florida. Cruz can kneecap him in Texas. Pataki and Christie can nail him in the northeast. Carly can screw him in California. Someone must like her there. Jindal and Lindsey can take the south. It would be like the ending in Agatha Christie's Death on the Nile. The suspects' hatred for the victim ran so deep they all killed him. C'mon. Don't do it for the country. Don't do it for the party. Do it for the most Republican reason of all: political payback. Hook yourselves together like rats pulling a ratfuck Santa sleigh. Now Kasich! Now Walker! Now Graham! Now Carly! On Ted! On Bobby! On Marco! On Christie! It will truly be Christmas when that cocky smirk is wiped off that asshole's fat face, replaced by a befuddled "what in the heck just happened?!"
It would be the perfectly insane ending to an insane year. You're Republicans. Even though some of you are displaying an uncharacteristic sense of honor by refusing to support the man, most will follow party orthodoxy and fall in line like good little apparatchiks. But don't do it. Don't unite! Rebel! Go rogue and gut the arrogant son of a bitch. 'Cause you know damn well he would have done it to you.