Oh my lovelies, my pretty little Américaines… how far have you fallen? I never could have believed that even after you decided Trump was the man for you, that you would be brought this low. And how it must tug at the edges of your innermost thoughts, the knowledge that I, Jeb Bush, could have rescued you from all of this misery.
I picture you now, my beautiful loves, refreshing The Upshot every ten seconds, Googling “moving to Canada” then “moving to New Zealand in case Canada accidentally gets nuked.” And I wonder, as you lurch to the commode to take your third stress-related bowel movement of the day, do you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and think about how it could be different had you just chosen me?
As you sit hunched over the toilet, wondering if Susan Collins is likely to die and if so when, do you picture yourself sitting on a breezy terrace in Monte Carlo with I, Jeb! Bush, sharing a laugh about that little exclamation mark you once mocked, but have since come to adore?
But alas, it did not move you when I released a self-published ebook of all the emails I sent as governor. Were you more fascinated with the brutish strength of Donald Trump than the way I chose a turtle to be my symbol for some reason? How much would you give to cheer and applaud that turtle now?
I cannot say that watching you these few years has been easy for me. To see your slow, inevitable abasement. As Donald frittered away the best years of your democracy, and you see your options dwindle until you are left begging, BEGGING for Mitt Romney to vote your way on the Supreme Court? Ah, but even he has forsaken you.
And oh how I would have loved to have scooped you up in my pale, flabby arms and carried you downstairs all the way to Florida where I might still be governor for all you know. Have you even thought to check lately? Perhaps the question haunts you as you stare at that ceiling every night before sleep, dreaming of my economic policy about the Carried Interest Loophole.
Would that you had clapped for me, just once, my exquisite little voters. Just once.