Dear Mr. Black,

You will never be president. And even if you become a candidate, we will never vote for you. Because we'll remember how lame you were when, after marrying your Hillary Clinton, you decided that anyone who could not help you in your quest for social advancement was not worth knowing anymore. Even if that meant ditching some really solid friends who had been there for you.

You know, when I first met you I thought you were so great. My husband had so many good things to say about you. You were so funny and smart. I was happy that he had friends like you. Then I started to notice a few red flags here and there. The first one was after that funeral when Mark had to leave early and you offered to drive me home. We had such a great conversation and I began to really trust you. You asked me about our plans to invest in a home, and I told you about the townhouse we had been looking at that was such a great deal. You asked me about the details and, not thinking, I told you everything- about how a friend of ours had tipped us off about it and that it seemed really under priced. I confided in you that I was a little wary because I had never bought a home before. You told me that it didn't seem like that great of a deal to you, and that I had a right to be worried.

A few days later, Mark tells me that he heard that you had asked around to find out where the townhouse was and had taken a look at it, with the purpose of being interested in purchasing it.

Really? Why would you do that?

Then I find out that you and another friend pitched a "once in a lifetime" deal to my husband, where he takes all the risk and only receives 50% of the profit.

Hmmmm. Not such a great deal, thinks I.

Let me tell you something, Mr. Black, that I love about my husband: he is so kind, forgiving, good-natured, optimistic, and loving, that he would accept you back into our lives with open arms. Even though you don't return his calls. Or texts. Or emails. Even though you have admitted that your Hillary Clinton, we'll call her Lucy for short, won't let you associate with anyone who won't advance you.

But me, on the other hand... well let's just say that I'm a bit harder to persuade.

One last thing- I do feel a bit sad for you. I do feel a bit like you are a dog in a cage. I do feel like your master should let you out from time to time to run around and meet other dogs at the dog park. Even if she does dress you in a sweater and put little booties on your feet.

Looking forward to voting time.

Love,

Angie