We’ll always have Sacramento
This column originally appeared in the Fairfield Daily Republic on June 23, 2016
Donald, I guess it was curiosity that drew me to you.
Yes, I knew of you. I’d see you on the cover of magazines, on the news and at one time I was a regular watcher of “The Celebrity Apprentice.” (Bret Michaels was great, Gary Busey was annoying and why did you introduce the nation to Omarosa?)
So when you came to Sacramento I showed up, stood in line in sweltering weather and made sure I was right in front to see you. You came in on that 757, larger than life and roused the crowd in that uniquely fact-free bellicose way you’re known for. It was quite an experience.
But then a week later I received an email from you declaring “WE WILL MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!” In it you wrote, “I am going to be the best jobs president God ever created!” You included photos and thanked me for your support. I thought it was a nice gesture.
Then a week after that I received another email titled “MAKE AMERICA SAFE AGAIN!” You included more photos that were kind of reminiscent of the last batch so therefore less impressive. You talked about the Orlando, Florida, attack, Crooked Hillary and again thanked me for my support. I started feeling uneasy.
OK. I think maybe I made a mistake and somehow led you on that I was more interested in you than I was. I had a good time that day at the hangar. What I’m saying is it’s not you, it’s me. For whatever reason, I expect too much out of relationships. I tend to want to be involved with someone who values facts, doesn’t demagogue, isn’t racist and has at least a passing relationship with honesty. I admit I expect too much.
Just three days later I received another email titled “ONE YEAR AGO: THE START OF A MOVEMENT” where you boasted about your campaign. I don’t think you’re understanding that, just like half of the Republican Party, I’m just not that into you. There’s not anyone else: It’s just that we come from different universes.
But just four days later I receive yet another email asking me to like your Facebook page. Really? I’m surprised you didn’t ask me to follow you on Twitter. Do you really think I’m going to like your page so you can continue to pepper me with these love notes?
Dude, are you aware of what I’ve written about you? It’s not going to work. OK? And nobody uses all caps! IT’S RUDE! IT’S SHOUTING! Yes, our eyes locked a few times in Sacramento. But you didn’t call me your African-American. You said that to someone else. And judging by some of the racist things you’ve said, I’m starting believe what Bill Maher said: that after you called that guy your African-American your next line was, “And the bidding starts at $10,000!”
We’re not compatible. I know I said before that it was me. It’s not. It’s you. I don’t want you to think of my Hispanic friends as rapists, gardeners and creators of awesome taco bowls. My cousin is Muslim and I don’t want him profiled and sent to Guantanamo. And I’d rather your fingers stayed on your phone tweeting than to be on the nuclear button.
But even after this I received another email titled “The First One.” At least you learned about the all caps thing. So for some reason I read this latest missive and you’re asking me for money! You’re a billionaire asking me for money? I should’ve seen this coming. You’re one of those guys. Is the plane a rental? Is the hair?
To paraphrase Kanye, I’m not saying you’re a gold digger but you’re not messin’ with no broke . . . voters. And as TLC sang, I “don’t want no scrubs.” Stop contacting me!
Look, I saw you once. It was a one-time thing. Obviously it meant more to you than it did to me. That’s it. I’m blocking your emails. We’ll always have Sacramento . . . stalker. Peace.