Dear Grace & Frankie,
I just wanted to reach out and tell you how much I enjoyed your Netflix series Grace & Frankie.
As you know, I’m running hard to be your next president, and that means a lot of time on the road. Nothing takes the edge off a long day on the campaign trail like a bottle of Zin and a binge watch, and I just finished your Season 1 tonight, or should I say this morning. It’s nearly 3am!
And let me tell you, you both look great.
Grace: You are not 70! Who knew a diet of Martinis and Ativan could work such wonders. As a presidential candidate and a Methodist, I can’t formally endorse your level of abuse, but if I was a functioning alcoholic and drug addict, I’d want to be just like you.
And Frankie: You’re a septuagenarian after my own heart, with your yoga sounds and smudge sticks. They take me back to lazy afternoons with the Co-op girls at Wellesley, where quite a few women were after my own heart. I’ve never felt as centered since, though the Kegals help. Hat tip, Huma.
These coping strategies are just the kind of solutions I’m looking for to keep America great. Our nation faces enormous challenges in the 21st century, but, ladies, nothing like you’ve been through when your husbands left you, for each other!
Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Can you imagine?! Well of course you can, you went through it. Not in the glare of a thousand suns like I did with Bill, but that doesn’t diminish your pain.
And here’s the thing: No, you didn’t like each other all those years that your husbands were business partners and they were secretly, you know, doing it, but in the face of an existential crisis (a double divorce isn’t exactly ISIS, but still), you rose up together to meet the challenge, because that’s when Americans are at their best.
It’s a winning strategy. Well done!
It’s also the kind of storytelling I’ll need to get through the orange shitstorm they call Donald Trump this fall.
Make no mistake: Small Hands is going to unload on me like John Mayer on Taylor Swift’s face.
How did he get this far? The reality TV star turned the Republican primary into a reality competition, eliminating 16 opponents, just like on my old favorite, Survivor, week after week. And the ratings were huuuuuuge (Hey, Bernie).
So when it’s down to just me and him, I’ll need my own show that’s going to captivate America, and decapitate the Donald! (Ha!)
This year, the candidate with the best show wins.
I could turn to our old Arkansas friends Harry and Linda Bloodworth-Thomason, who did such a great job with Designing Women (I still know Dixie Carter’s “And that is the night that the lights went out in Georgia!” speech by heart). But they haven’t worked in a while and sitcoms are so 90’s, right?
I’m fighting for America’s future, and the future is streaming.
Streaming shows are all about well-rounded characters, not cardboard cut-outs with ridiculous nicknames.
So while Fuckface von Clownstick is racing to the bottom, I’ll be up here (my hand is high in the air), demonstrating strength, a great sense of humor and, yes: stamina! just like Grace & Frankie’s creator did with you.
Which is all a long way of saying: Girls, I need to borrow Marta Kauffman.
She’s written a captivating story, in this wonderful new genre, that you just don’t want to end. Sure, you’re not perfect. Nobody is. But you’re relatable.
I need to be relatable.
Remember when I cried in public and won New Hampshire? I need more of that, plus the strength and stamina part.
Marta has already called me a “powerhouse human being and a very loving person,” which is to say, just because I’m up here (my hand is in the air again) doesn’t mean I can’t kick this guy in the balls so hard that Melania farts.
Marta can work out the details.
Girls, I turn the big 7-0 next year, making me the oldest woman president ever. Plus, I’m running against someone who’s stupid unpredictable and probably downright dangerous. I need all the help I can get.
Can I deal you in?
Also: Did you know you’re Miley Cyrus’ favorite show? Check!
P.S. Just found out your Season 2 premieres Friday on Netflix, can’t wait! (Huma, pls confirm maximum allowable contributions.)
[If you are not already aware, or if you’re without a sense of humor, the preceding letter is satire.]