This reply tweet to Trump, which got 112 likes and 47 retweets, would not have been possible without the generous help of many people. Thank you does not come close to the appreciation I feel for all those who have been part of this long journey, which has changed me from a simple user of Twitter to a leader of the #Resistance.
First, to my 1,246 faithful followers, who believed in this project from the start, I dedicate this reply tweet to you.
You saw me evolve from replying to Trump tweets with a gif (usually of that guy blinking and being like “you can’t be serious?!”) to full-blown threads, sometimes dozens of tweets long. I found my voice with you. And, my voice became our voice — the trumpet call of a movement — yet still, mainly, my voice so people could look up and say, “Oh, I guess that guy is the one leading that movement, he must be pretty important, because it’s his voice and all.” Yes, I found my voice.
Before this though, I began simply and I must give appreciation to the people who supported me early on.
Thank you to all my educators, and most of all 7th-grade civics teacher Mr. Harvey, who taught me much of the knowledge I draw on for my tweets.
I extend appreciation to Shawn Clark, who opened the door to Twitter when he told me to look at memes while we were high at his house.
Thank you to Claire Clark, Shawn’s sister, who said that you could also follow news and politics on there, and sometimes, “it was really cool, because people would make memes about stuff that mattered, like how dumb the president is.”
Gratitude must be extended to Trevor Anderson, who read early renditions of this tweet and many others via text message, and helped edit them into their ultimate forms. Trevor, I would not have added the poop emoji in the 24th of the 37-long tweet chain if it were not for you and that, my friend, really made all the difference.
I thank Henry Goldstein, my roommate, who has offered me multiple fellowships to continue writing Trump tweets in his residency after I was denied by the MacDowell Colony, the Corporation of Yadoo, and my parent’s basement. As you can see, after this tweet, I will soon be making money from my writing and thus able to pay you back for the multiple months of rent I have missed. Your constructive critique of not “wasting my life trying to be famous on Twitter and actually helping no one” was taken to the heart. As you can see from my 112 likes, I’ve helped a lot of people now. Criticism is part of the artistic process, thank you for your honesty. (I also stole pizza rolls from you, sorry and thank you.)
I thank my family — specifically my mother, Liz Abbey — who told me that I always deserved to speak even if other people did not like what I had to say. Your unconditional love, even when I have erred, has led me to speak up when others may not want to listen. This is the only time I’ve been able to say this: I cannot put in words the way I feel. (Usually, as you know, I am fairly adept at having the exact words everyone needs to hear; often people are like, Oh thank you someone said it!)
And, more widely, I must thank Twitter. You have made me matter and given me purpose. I would probably just be someone in a coffee shop loudly speaking truth to the power of my friend who agrees 100% with me and hoping that others overhear me and think I’m special, and cool, and handsome. Now, I can be that person all the time, everywhere. Now, I can project my ego on the same level as a presidential statement. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Finally, there’s me. I appreciate me for being so willing to courageously spread my political opinions. Me, I love me, and I think America needs me in the face of this narcissistic menace of a president. Thank me for everything.