Dear King Richard III...

The New Yorker has a political advice column penned by the long dead but recently re-discovered, skeletally and genetically identified, and buried with fitting pomp and reverence albeit by protestants whom he would have had executed, non-nephew killing, much slandered monarch, Good King Richard.

Well done. (The handsome Duke of York was an early crush of mine, and the facial reconstruction proves he was quite as noble-visaged as I imagined him. So there..)

Dear King Richard -

Have you ever seen someone dominate an election like this? I would have curb-stomped Reagan. I am more popular than Mussolini ever was. I am significantly taller than Jesus. I’ve made a huge amount of money, and I’m not going to apologize to anyone for that. China is scared of me. My question is: How are you?

Sincerely,
Talking Loudly Inside Trump Towers

Thank you for writing. I am fine, though afflicted by a certain melancholy for, as I understand it, most of you think I am the ruthless caricature created by that cretinous ass William Shakespeare. Do you people really think I was in my mother’s womb for two years and born with fangs? That not only did I kill my own brother’s sweet sons but I also found time to kill Henry VI, his son Edward, and my own beloved brother George? That I murdered my wife so that I could marry my niece? Calumny. Oh, and Donald? You are like poison that screams its victim to death. You belong in a dungeon.

Royally Yours....