Dearest Sir, My Eternal Commander, My Chief,

They are talking about us again.

The mainstream media and that terrible, wretched Jon Ossoff, who you so brilliantly identified as a Pee-wee Herman look-alike.

They slander our sacred bond.

They call me a "human printer" and your "comfort blanket".

They mock the fact that I climbed into the tight cargo trunk of an SUV just so I could be with you the day you went to court.

Some even dare to mock your sensitive medical situation and the emergency restroom aids I carry to keep you clean and ready to lead the world.

Well, to all that I say, let them mock! They will never understand what we have.

What do they know about true love?

Is there anything more deeply passionate than sprinting beside your golf cart across the 14th fairway in 90-degree heat, holding a wireless battery-powered HP DeskJet at shoulder height just so you can read a fresh 8.5x11 printout of a Truth Social meme?

Is there anything more intimate than when your knees are resting on my slender shoulders as I clean your most secret folds, adorning you with creams and padded undergarments so you are fresh for your meetings.

I think not.

When we were in Turkey and they shoved us into that secret catering truck and snuck us onto the jet while leaving the Cabinet behind on the decoy plane, my heart sang. Those moments where you show me, a lowly aide, preferential treatment, show me how much you love me. I didn't care about the security threats or the Iranian airspace. All I cared about was making sure my portable paper tray didn't jam while printing out positive coverage from CBS News and The Guardian from your glorious trip.

You chose me to be on that secret plane. Not the Secretary of Defense, not the Chief of Staff, just me, my spare ink cartridges, your infinite greatness, and of course your favorite Pampers and soft wipes.

They say I am just a gatekeeper, filtering out the cruel world so you only see praising headlines. But I know the truth: I am your oxygen. I am the thumbs that type out your midnight Truths in ALL CAPS.

I will never leave your side.

I will print for you in sickness and in health, in sand traps and in secret jets, until the cyan or diaper cream run out completely.

Forever yours,

Natalie