Russell Simmons Wrote Donald Trump an Open Letter And…Hmmmm


If there’s one positive thing about the handful of people of color coming out of the woodwork to vouch for white supremacist Donald Trump, it’s the Olympic, near superhuman feats of reaching we have been truly blessed to witness.

Yesterday, Trump’s biracial ex-girlfriend attempted to say that Trump wasn’t racist and also was surprised that black people watch tennis in the same breath! Today, none other than Russell Simmons is trying to reason with the president by way of…Rwanda? Yeah, we’ll get there.

In an open letter to Trump published in the New York Daily News, the entertainment mogul and former Trump friend (they haven’t been in touch since Simmons said he’d prefer Kim Kardashian as president) calls out Trump for his particularly heinous actions over the last few days, rightfully putting the responsibility of Charlottesville on him. In that regard, the letter is fine, but there are some hiccups along the way. Let’s check out the highlights, shall we?

Remember when, from the behind the scenes, you strategically helped Rima Fakih win the Miss USA pageant, making her the first Muslim woman to ever wear the crown? Remember how influential you were to crowning Leila Lopez from Angola, who is black, as Miss Universe? Do you remember me introducing you to the beautiful black supermodel Kara Young? You were smitten with her, dated publicly and bragged about how wonderful she is in numerous interviews.

Because the solution to racism is sexism! And as far as Kara Young goes, Trump bragged about how he stole her from someone else, telling Howard Stern, “I took her away like he was a dog.”

Do you remember all of your New York Jewish and African-American friends you probably spent more time hanging out with than all the WASPs you could find? Do you remember making sure Jews who were turned away at other country clubs had an open door policy at Mar-a-lago?

Yes, the friends of Donald “Black guys counting my money! I hate it. The only kind of people I want counting my money are short guys that wear yarmulkes every day” Trump.

Do you remember that guy? I do. That was the Donald I called friend. That is the Donald I know. Where is he now? I have to believe he is still in there, somewhere.

K. But now for the best part.

The trouble is, time is running out. It takes but a second for disaster to strike. Remember Rwanda? As I assume you know, it was started by extreme Hutu nationalists in the capital of Kigali and soon before anyone could stop it, the genocide spread throughout the country with staggering speed and brutality. Previously law-abiding citizens were incited and encouraged by local officials and the Hutu Power government to turn on their neighbors. Sound familiar?

REMEMBER RWANDA? Okay, honestly “Remember Rwanda” sounds like code for something else. Maybe it’s a counterspell to break the racist one Trump has fallen under. Or maybe Rwanda is actually a person? Or maybe he meant, “Remember R(‘A Fish Called)Wanda? The brilliant heist comedy we watched after we promised to never do racism again?” I don’t know, something sounds off.

Or what about the lost second that was a mere five years between when the concentration camps of Auschwitz were established to when Hitler took his own life? Or who can forget the widespread ethnic cleansing that accompanied the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina from 1992 to 1995?

Uhh, “lost second?”

Tensions are only going to reach more of a crescendo and more blood will be shed. And the people will blame you, and rightfully so. There are not two sides to a Nazi or a white supremacist, Donald, and you know damn well what you said on Tuesday was horrendous.

Okay, things are looking up!

And for the love of all that’s sacred, you can stop tweeting threats to North Korea that may get us all into a nuclear war.


You can find your highest self. You can become conscious. Scripture tells us the Donald I knew — or an even greater Donald — is still there inside you, sleeping. It is time to wake him the f—- up.

Eh. Alright he lost me, although the idea that somewhere in someone’s scripture lies a prophecy of a tiny Donald asleep inside a larger Donald (but they have the same size hands) is probably worth getting in touch with Alex Jones about.

Honestly, I can’t tell if, after he was cited in the New York Times as one of Trump’s few black friends, Simmons just wanted to let everyone else know that he wasn’t down with him anymore, or if he’s sincerely trying to reach out to a man he once knew.

Either way, this whole letter is so crazy, it just might work. And for the record, no, I don’t think Trump remembers Rwanda.

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