According to White House official and understudy for Bond henchman #3, Sebastian Gorka, President Donald Trump has left “secret instructions” to JD Vance should he die while in office. In an interview with the “Pod Force One” podcast, Gorka explained that Trump has left a letter for the Vice President should he be “taken out.”
While Gorka refused to divulge its contents, the Daily Beast has obtained a copy of the letter, which we are sharing with our readers below:
Dear JP,
If you’re reading this letter, it means I’m in that golden penthouse in the sky. You know, when you think about it, heaven really is the ultimate in real estate. Of course, it can be improved. I’m having the floors redone. We’re replacing all the clouds with marble.
They killed me, JP. They killed me very strongly. More strongly than anybody thought possible. Probably they needed a nuke because I don’t see what else could get the job done other than a man-eating shark.
You don’t hear too much about “man-eating sharks” these days. Too politically correct. They want to say, “non-binary-eating sharks,” right? But we’re not going to let them get away with it. We don’t need sharks with pronouns.
You’re in charge now, which means you’re going to have to make all the tough decisions. The first order of business is picking out accent tile for the ballroom. That’s where I want to lie in state. What a sight. Can you imagine? America’s favorite dead president front and center in America’s favorite event space. The ratings will be through the roof.
Make sure it’s open to the public so people can pay their respects. Charge five hundred dollars a head, cash bar only.
You also need to deal with my presidential library. I’ve picked out the location: Mount Rushmore. We blast the faces of those other losers off the mountain and replace them with Trump from four different angles. Happy Trump. Serious Trump. Golf Trump. Sexy Trump. Just please make sure they don’t sculpt my neck vagina.
And I don’t want this to be one of those libraries that has “books.” I want my library to be filled with souvenirs from my time in the Oval. Like the nice airplane I got from Qatar. And the prestigious FIFA Peace Prize. And Marco’s balls.
Before I forget—they’re going to want to bury me at Arlington. Don’t let them do it. Too many losers. You know the Great Pyramids in Egypt? I want one of those. But gold. In Palm Beach. And bigger. Much bigger. And let’s take over Egypt while we’re at it.
I don’t want one of these sad little state funerals. I fell asleep during Jimmy Carter’s. So boring. Too many old people. I want fighter jets. Rockettes. Kid Rock performing “Amazing Grace” with a full military choir and at least six fog machines. Maybe seven.
Never let them raise the flags back to full staff. I want those flags at half-mast permanently. The American people need to remember what they lost. Not only the most powerful president in history but the best-looking. They need to be sad. By force, if necessary.
Also, you’re Eric and Don Jr.’s father now. Make sure they don’t get into too much trouble with the crypto and if Don Jr. asks you for extra allowance, DON’T GIVE IT TO HIM! He’ll just spend it on booger sugar.
Ivanka and the other girl will be fine, but I’d also keep an eye on Barron. That kid’s gotten too tall. It’s unnatural. Like Europe.
Speaking of Europe, no more NATO meetings unless they’re held at one of my properties. These countries have been freeloading off us for decades, and frankly, the least they can do is pay resort fees. If the Germans want military protection, they can book the Scott Baio Suite like everybody else. And NO late checkout.
Now, you’ve probably got some big ideas about what you’d like to do as President. Forget it. Your ideas are stupid. Remember when I sent you to Rome and you killed the Pope? Now we’ve got this weirdo from Chicago. That’s on you. Invite him to the funeral, though. But give him a bad seat.
Nobody elected you president like they did me—three times in a row. That means nobody cares about you. They care about me. And if you want to be as popular as me—100% approval rating according to CNN, but they’re still fake news, you know—you’ll do what I tell you to do.
By now you’re probably feeling overwhelmed. Totally understandable. You’ve inherited the most powerful political movement the world has ever known. The stakes are high. The pressure is enormous. But just ask yourself one simple question whenever you’re uncertain: “What would Trump do?” Then do something even crazier. Start a war. Release some national secrets—not the Epstein ones. Pick a fight with Beyoncé.
Anything to get the attention off whatever distraction you started to get the attention off the original thing that needed distracting. Remember JP: if you fail, America fails. But if you succeed, America also fails. It’s just that you and all your friends get really rich in the process.
Good luck, 48. You’ll need it. Stay strong. Do something nice for Melania. Make her the ambassador to East Shitholia or whatever. And don’t touch the Diet Coke button. That gets buried with me.
