Notes From The Apocalypse

An Urgent Request From Q Dearest President Donald John Trump, POTUS For Life, Most Stable of All Geniuses, I write to you today not in triumph, but in resignation. Not in fury, but in the cold, measured terror of understanding. I have done all I can from the shadows. I have infiltrated suicide committees, sabotaged mass destruction, and listened through the wire-taps of power for longer than any sane person should. I have sent reports, evidence, warnings, prophecies, copies of my awful books, and résumés to your office from multiple timelines and at least three alternate dimensions, all with one goal: the survival of the species, or—failing that—the prolonged illusion that we ever deserved to survive. Now, sir, I must ask you for what may be the final time: Make me your Secretary of Defense For Life. Not because I am the most qualified (though I am). Not because I know more about war than the generals (though I do). But because no one else will tell you the truth. Because everyone e...