February 26, 2026: Letter From Hell, Ripped Off Playbook, It Won't Be Long
“All Roads to Hell lead back to Richard Shithouse Nixon”
----The Quotations of Chairman Joe”
I've long held, in these columns, that all roads to Hell lead back to Richard Nixon. The assaults on the press, the corruption, the dawning incompetence, the constant posturing as a victim, the paranoia, the fucking with elections. Our Caesar Disgustus, being too butfaced stupid, hasn't brought anything newI except, perhaps, a sewage-rat determination to gnaw on the foundations of this republic. I mean even Nixon had a minimum decency. Even Nixon has a lingering sense of shame. Even Nixon could find it within himself to recognize when the stench became unbearable. Even Nixon could marshall the courage to step down.
In any case, Andy Borowitz, writing for occupysf.net, has correctly identified the ultimate destination of both Nixon and the present vulgarian now stinking up the Oval Office. Herein is his contribution to what he correctly describes what is and what will be the lasting legacy of our Caesar Disgustus.
Nixon’s letter from Hell
By admin | December 9, 2025 | Uncategorized
Dec 7, 2025
Since his death in 1994, Richard Nixon has refrained from public comments. Today, however, he has broken his silence in a letter from Hell.
Mr. Nixon offered The Borowitz Report the exclusive right to publish the following letter he wrote to Donald Trump on one condition: that his expletives not be deleted.
Donny Boy:
Congratulations: I’m adding you to my enemies list.
It’s not because you’re evil. I usually put evil people on my friends list. Every Thursday, I play bridge with Mao, Stalin, and Kissinger. Mao and Stalin had a moral objection when I brought Henry into the game, but I begged them to give him a chance.
No, it’s not because you’re evil. It’s because you’re so fucking unoriginal.
Hmm, let’s see: a paranoid president commits a shitload of crimes, then abuses his power trying to cover them up. Why does this ring a bell?
You’re lucky I’m dead, asshole, or I’d sue you for plagiarism.
Your sad little Epstein cover-up isn’t an homage to my Watergate cover-up—it’s a fucking reboot. And I don’t appreciate a bloated asswipe like you stealing my IP.
I mean, you ripped off my playbook down to the tiniest details—including your choice of a crooked Attorney General. Do you honestly think if Pam Bondi winds up in jail, that will be a fresh plot twist? Wrong, moron! My boy John Mitchell already did that. (John’s still a good friend, by the way—just last week we went skinny-dipping in Satan’s lake of fire.)
Now, don’t get me wrong—I don’t blame you for wanting to keep the Epstein files under wraps. Beelzebub has a copy of them in his lending library and I read them last night. I’m not easily shocked, but let me say this: you are one sick fuck. There’s stuff in there that would curl Matt Gaetz’s toes.
When this shit gets out, you’re going straight to prison—and not the Canyon Ranch resort where Ghislaine is getting her daily mani-pedis.
Since you’re stealing all my best ideas, I know how you’ll try to save your ass: you’ll whip out your trusty Sharpie and scribble over every word of the Epstein files until they look like something Jackson Pollack did on a bender.
But that won’t work, fuckface. Because whenever there’s a document this spicy, there are bound to be bootlegged copies out there, just waiting to be leaked to some Jew in the media. Remember the Pentagon Papers? Of course not—you can’t even remember your wife’s name.
Let me put it this way: if you think the DOJ has all the copies of the Epstein files in existence, then Pete Hegseth isn’t the only one who’s been drinking on the job. That genius Pam left them sitting on her desk, for fuck’s sake. I’ve seen documents stored more securely in Mar-a-Lago’s public crapper.
So, once the unredacted Epstein files come out—and they will—how do you plan to save your drooping jowly ass? Well, I see you’ve already dipped into my playbook yet again: you picked a vice president so fucking loathsome that he’s impeachment insurance.
That’s what I thought I was doing when I chose Spiro. But then, what do you know, that lowlife scumbag went and got busted accepting paper bags full of cash in the White House basement. The moment he got the boot, I knew I was fucked.
I don’t know what skeletons JD has in his closet. Maybe there’s a video of him in a three-way with a couch and an ottoman. But you’ve got to do everything in your power to make sure that nothing, I repeat, nothing happens to him. Bubble-wrap that fucker.
One last thing, jerkwad: I ran into Epstein the other day at a barbecue. (Satan was mesquite grilling him in a lime cilantro marinade.) In between anguished shrieks, he told me to thank you for that perverted birthday card you gave him. I told him to thank you in person. It won’t be long.
Fuck you,
Dick Nixon (1)
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Nixon’s letter from Hell. The Borowitz Report. https://occupysf.net/index.php/2025/12/09/nixons-letter-from-hell/
