Staff Reports
In a stunning act of almost theatrical drama, Joe Biden, the outgoing Commander-in-Chief and frequent flyer of the self-congratulatory express, decided to pen a farewell letter to the nation. That’s right; he took it upon himself to remind everyone just how fantastically he believes he has performed— despite the veritable dumpster fire that his presidency has become. One can only wonder if he wrote it on a magic notepad, as so many of his accomplishments have seemingly materialized from thin air.
Upon reviewing the letter, it becomes clear that Biden’s grasp on reality is somewhere between delusional and a Netflix fantasy series. He boldly claims that he stepped into office to face a “winter of peril,” as though this were an epic struggle worthy of Tolkien’s Middle-earth. The guy really believes that his four-year charade had us all huddled together, singing Kumbaya while dodging bullets from a pandemic that, going by his actions, seems to have been more of a figment of his administration’s imagination than a real threat.
Summary of President Biden, America’s last real president’s farewell address: It was a privilege to lead the nation, and good luck because starting this Monday you are completely and utterly fucked. https://t.co/SAkljPYEyW
— 😱 Scary Larry 😱 🇺🇦✊🏻🇺🇸🗽 (@aintscarylarry) January 16, 2025
Referencing challenges such as the pandemic, economic woes, and democratic threats, one has to wonder if he mistakenly read someone else’s letter. The narrative he crafted presents a country that flourished under his benevolence, but the reality shows Americans enduring lockdowns and medical mandates that only heightened irrational fears and societal estrangement. Biden’s economic performance was so stellar that many forget how quickly “affordable living” turned into a cruel joke—bacon prices are rising faster than his approval ratings.
Biden then lists his “triumphs”—a number that would impress only the most myopic of political fanatics. New jobs? Sure, if one considers gig work at the local smoothie shop as the gold standard. He talks about bridging wealth disparities while his policies have seemingly targeted everyone’s wallets in the middle class. The man is setting records for virtual reality, showcasing imaginary feats like increasing manufacturing and lowering prescription drug prices—despite what those pesky receipts show.
And as for crime rates, when Biden says they’re at a 50-year low, one can’t help but think he’s been living in a parallel universe. As violent crime skyrockets and cities become unlivable, the gall of claiming safety is reminiscent of someone staring at a car wreck while insisting the road is perfectly smooth. He evades mentioning the chaos enveloping the southern border or the disastrous Afghanistan withdrawal, likely because those are unfortunate realities that don’t fit into his fairytale.
He concludes with a rallying cry, casting “history” and “power” into the ambiguous void of American potential, reminiscent of a college professor stuck in a motivational seminar. This soliloquy of misdirection makes it clear that while he may part from office, the delusions of grandeur will cling to him. So as he gets ready to exit stage left, one can only echo the sentiments of those who kindly wish him well on his way out: Don’t let the door hit you where the good Lord split you, Joe.
