It’s inauguration day for the 45th president of the United States, Donald J. Trump. I made a jokey post about this several months before the election, but folks, this is not a drill.

I’d like to be excited about it. I’d like to think, “this guy might just actually do a good job. I mean, he DID get elected.”

But I’m very, very skeptical. It’s amazing how incredibly and unbelievably skeptical I am. My skepticism is HUGE.

Trump is the tenth president in my lifetime. And while I’ve liked some of those guys more than others, I’ve never actually felt, “this guy scares me.”

Most people I know are aware that I have bipolar disorder. I’ve had manic episodes where I’ve thought, believed, and said some pretty bizarre things. I’ve spent time in mental wards where I’ve met all kinds of wacky individuals.

My point is: I’m a pretty good judge of crazy. And as far as Trump goes, to quote Keith Olbermann, “there is something very wrong with him.”

Not convinced? Follow him on Twitter. (Actually, you don’t need to do that; every tweet is some kind of national news.) Once in a while he’ll seem semi-presidential, but mostly he just attacks his critics and sounds like an insecure fifth-grader taunting kids on the playground. “I’m better than you and you’ll pay attention to me, you losers!” He enjoys telling people they’re overrated, unfunny, or sad. Kind of like someone who’s not right in the head.

He’s not even going to use the official @POTUS account because he’s afraid he’ll lose followers. Yeesh. I tell ya, former reality TV stars and punch lines since the 80s these days…


Anyway, Mr. President, I really do wish you the best (for everyone’s sake). All I ask is that you get some serious psychiatric help. Like, real soon.

And please don’t kill us all. That would suck.