As you may be aware, Donald Trump made history this week after becoming the first President of the United States to mark the end of his first 100 days in office by wistfully admitting, on the record, that he had no idea that being president would be so hard, and that he really, really misses his old life. (Also: whichever member of the president's vaunted press team somehow thought green-lighting this interview was a good idea should be jailed.) From Reuters:

"I loved my previous life. I had so many things going"..."This is more work than in my previous life. I thought it would be easier."

When the president leaves the White House, it is usually in a limousine or an SUV. He said he missed being behind the wheel himself. "I like to drive," he said. "I can't drive any more."

Set aside, for a moment, how monumentally egotistical one must be to believe that being the most powerful elected official in the world would no more difficult than branding a series of tacky golf resorts, or how disrespectful it is that the aging billionaire who holds the country's future in his hands is really complaining out loud about how the job he asked for doesn't allow him to take his fancy cars out on weekends. We here at GQ are about solutions, not problems. And the best part about Donald Trump's problem right now is that there is an easy, one-page fix for it. Look, the National Archives even has a model from which he can copy!

Think about it, Mr. President. You already proved, in what befuddled academics will one day describe as the most elaborate troll job of our time, that you could, in fact, be elected President of the United States. And it was so much fun! You got to salute the flag, and sit in the Oval Office, and ride around in Air Force One, and have a cool Secret Service code name ("Mogul"!), and make big explosions in faraway foreign countries, and deliver "presidential" speeches, just like your heroes Ronald Reagan, Abraham Lincoln, and, uh, Ronald Reagan again. You were right, and the haters were wrong.

Let's get down to brass tacks, though. This isn't fun, right? All these long hours, the hard decisions, the nuanced geopolitical issues, the multisyllabic words—this is not at all what you had in mind. Just remember that you still retain some agency here. You can leave any time you want! Back to your life in New York, to pass the time in your beloved Trump Tower with your wife and young son, where neither pesky so-called judges nor intransigent extremists within your own party can bother you anymore. You still get a Secret Service detail and your own library, you can still watch cable news into the wee hours of the morning, and you still get to be called "President Trump" for the rest for your life. You'd leave with all the things you wanted out of this job, and skip the job itself!

With a one-paragraph letter, all of your problems could go away. (Well, not the bigotry, or the misogyny, or the xenophobia, or the apparent inability to formulate a coherent sentence. Those things you'll still have to work out on your own.) If you need someone to dictate it to, we'll be happy to assist.

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