Laurence George Luckinbill is an American actor, playwright and director. He has worked in television, film, and theatre.

Dear Mr. President:

Folks talk about the president being in a bubble–that every president loses a sense of reality because of the enormity of the task, and so you are surrounded by aides and politicians who believe their job is to shield their boss from undue pressures. The boss can’t afford to make mistakes because he (or she) is the paramount leader, and the final protector of the principle of government, “Of the people, by the people and for the people.”

So I am wondering if you know any of the people. I am wondering how it came to be that you don’t seem to feel anything that normal people feel. Perhaps your father or mother beat you? Maybe not with an electric cord, but with words and demands which may have shamed you so deeply and driven you so far back into your small Ego chamber or your dark Id cave that you have never been able to find your way to escape into the light that ordinary people see. You must have tried often, and failed every time. I wonder if that’s why you can now only envision yourself as a monster like Grendel, Godzilla, Nosferatu, Josef Stalin, a rapist or a drug-dealer pushing the untested drug for the new virus that you have invested in which you push in your television ad show for yourself. Could this be true? That you can only see yourself as one of the “bad people” that you now project outward onto us, the real people.

I am sorry for you. I sympathize. Your life is awful. Very sad. You are a little boy playing at being a big villain. But it doesn’t seem to help you feel better. You are the most unhappy man I’ve ever seen.

I’m curious–did you have the natural feelings of empathy that the rest of us have, beaten out of you, so now you must inflict punishment on everyone else–especially those you can dominate in your mind–the ones who have little recourse against your fury? Do you realize that you are a bully? Do you know that bullies are basically cowards who dominate those who will allow it? We people out here see a huge number of your victims–the entire Republican Party has fallen beneath your heel–and you seem to really like that. It is very sad.

Do you ever dream? Do your dreams consist of a desire to have everyone on earth bow down to you–to kneel and kiss your hand like the old mob bosses and the tyrants of old? Have you ever felt anything but the raging urge to hurt and dominate? Your poor son Baron looks so deeply sad and disassociated when you bring him out in one of your shows. Your wife seems to be either beaten down to her round heels or to be planning a great revenge on you. Is this possible?

I write sincerely to ask these questions because I feel for you. I have empathy and I know its value to humanity. A person with empathy for others sees how deeply miserable you are–even as you try endlessly to divert yourself by dominating others. You cannot win this sad battle against your own “Better Nature,” as Abraham Lincoln described the force for good that will re-unite this country after you are gone. I hope the people don’t arise and hang you upside down like Mussolini–he too, believed himself to be invincible. All tyrants end the same way–in misery. That is your destiny, Mr. President.

The people see all that you are doing to destroy the country that belongs to us. There are so many, many, many things you and your captive minions have done and are doing to change the people into your servants, slaves, even. The people can only tolerate the theft of their freedom for so long–but finally, as in our original Revolution, they will gather en masse to remove you and every one of your party from any position of power ever again.

This is the Easter season, The Passover season. Both celebrate escape from tyranny–from death itself. We, the people. are marking time from this date till the peaceful New American Revolution says a final goodbye to you. It will be such a grand relief to get rid of you. I write in sorrow that you have not learned humanity–you haven’t learned Faith, Hope or Charity–which is Love. I know that if you had ever had any, you would know what those words mean. Perhaps after you see how happy America will be without you, you will understand. I hope so. No one should have to live in your dark lonely soul ever again.

With love,

Laurence Luckinbill.