Notes In Passing. At the last possible moment, as he counts down the hours, Before dawn arrives and he leaves with red downcast face With twitchy fingers, with the last grasp of his fading powers Don leaves Joe a post-it, writ with ill and begrudging grace. The first word he's addressed to Joe not meant to mislead, Nevertheless the closest thing Don could get to a farewell note, Not a welcome nor a final word, Don refuses to concede, Simply 'Good luck, Joe.' Don confirms 'and that's all I wrote.' It's amazing Joe didn't reach for a flippin' Zippo and burn it, Or rip it, rend, rive or tear it rather than cooly and calmly read it, But, with a wry smile, add his footnote, sign it, seal it and return it; 'Don, I can't accept you wishing me luck, you're sure gonna need it.'
gude luk – good luck.’
(Let’s hope there’s no more to be said on the misdirected unwrapped parcel of wholesale lies that is Don now that Trump, Inc. has been withdrawn from public consumption .)