The Gettysburg Tweetstorm

Twelve score, and more, years ago our fourfathers, all four of them, brought forth on this continent a newly constructed nation, conceived in competition and dedicated to the proposition that most people are losers. Only a few, like me, get to be winners.

Now we are engaged in a great uncivil era testing whether that nation, so constructed, can survive my presidency. We are met in Washington, DC, the field of battle in the forthcoming impeachment fight.

I have come to tell you about crooked Hillary, conflicted Mueller, angry Democrats, anonymoose op-ed writers for the failing New York Times and the rest of my long list of enemies. It is altogether fitting and proper that I should do this, believe me.

But, in a larger sense, I can not insult, I can not insinuate, I can not incite on this occasion. The things I have previously said, truthful and otherwise (mostly otherwise), have already summed up my presidency beyond my poor power to now add or detract.

The world will little note, nor long remember what I tweet here, but it can never forget my hair, and the way I have made talking about greatness great again. Now it is for me to be here dedicated to that cause—myself—for which I give the full measure of my twitter account.

I here highly resolve that the investigations of my election and administration shall end with my pardon power and my ability to fire Jeff Sessions and everyone in the Justice Department taller than he is.

And that this nation, under Trump, shall someday have a new wall of freedom —and that publicity of the Trump, by the Trump, for the Trump, shall not perish from cable news networks.