[GUEST ACCESS MODE: Data is scrambled or limited to provide examples. Make requests using your API key to unlock full data. Check https://lunarcrush.ai/auth for authentication information.]  Kendall Lankford (The PRODCAST) [@KendallLankford](/creator/twitter/KendallLankford) on x XXX followers Created: 2025-07-17 22:12:52 UTC DEAR MR PRESIDENT: FROM ONE OF YOUR "STUPID" SUPPORTERS Mr. President, I harbor no illusions that these words will cross the threshold of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, let alone find a place upon your high desk. And yet, I serve a God who commands even the bullets to swerve mid flight and to spare your life, by divine mercy, on that fateful day in Butler. That same Almighty God can just as easily place this letter before your eyes if He so wills. Therefore, I write—not as a flatterer in your inner circle, nor as a cog in the machinery of politics, but as a minister of the Gospel of God, charged by Him to proclaim His Word and to measure the deeds of men by the plumb line of His eternal truth. I write as one who has interceded for you in prayer, cast my vote in your favor, absorbed the social cost of defending you, and held out hope that God might break you down in order to build you up, and this republic that I love, for His glory and our great good. We, the faithful remnant you once roused to hope, are not the fools you now mock with your derision. We are not the mindless herd your recent contempt dares to imagine. We are not your pawns, nor the sycophantic chorus you employ to fill your narcissistic ears and fattened ego with more and more applause. We are citizens of this great nation—yes—but more profoundly, we are subjects of the Most High God, who reigns far above every earthly ruler. We serve the King of kings, Jesus Christ, who is sovereign over all the rulers of this earth (Rev. 1:5) and whose dominion is everlasting, unshaken by time, election, or rebellion (Dan. 2:44–45). This King has not stuttered concerning in His decrees. His Word does not murmur about your divinely given responsibilities as president and the duties of your office, but proclaims them with undeniable clarity (Rom. 13:1–4; Deut. 17:18–20). Civil rulers are bound to govern with righteousness, not vanity (Prov. 16:12; X Sam. 23:3–4). The sword entrusted to them is not a scepter for self-made glory, but a sharpened blade—commissioned by the Lord of All to bring terror to evildoers (Rom. 13:4) and to shelter the innocent beneath the wings of justice (Ps. 82:3–4; Isa. 1:17; Jer. 22:3). You have failed on both of these fronts. You once stood before the American people with fire in your voice and thunder in your words, vowing to drain the swamp. And we—the forgotten, the faithful, the long-suffering backbone of this Republic—believed you. Not because we are gullible, but because we had not yet abandoned hope that righteousness could still echo from the highest halls in Washington. You vowed the Epstein files would be released. You declared the names would be made public. You appointed an Attorney General to carry out that task—under your authority, with your backing, and by your word. She acknowledged the list was on her desk and would soon be unveiled. But when your supporters—the ones who elevated you, defended you, and bore the cost of doing so—asked that your vow be fulfilled, you recoiled. Not in courage, but in cowardice. Not as a man of justice, but as one who fears what light might reveal. You brushed aside the oath you once made. You punted your own promise to discretion—as if the sword of the state were a toy, and justice a matter of taste. You said she should release “whatever she thinks is credible,” as though truth were subjective and righteousness negotiable. But God does not deal in political expedience. He demands that rulers rule justly, punish evil, and defend the innocent—not retreat behind talking points when the hour for justice has come. All the while, the swamp you swore to drain has festered and boiled with the sulfuric stench of sexual depravity, political perversion, and demonic predation. Its fumes have risen unchecked—and not only did you fail to expose them, you turned and ridiculed those who demanded that you do. You did not shine the light; you mocked those who carried it. You did not fight the corruption; you laughed at those who remembered your promises and dared to hold you to them. You labeled as cowards those who have shown more courage in these recent months than you have. You dismissed the faithful as conspiracists, not because they have abandoned your cause, but because they have upheld it with more conviction than you. Because they still believe in justice. Because, against all odds, many of them still believe in you—even as you trample their loyalty beneath your feet. One of your own supporters, a fireman, died at your rally—believing you stood for something noble. Did he die for a lie, Mr. President? Many more languished in jail cells because they believed your words about a stolen election and took to the Capitol not to destroy, but to defend what they thought you loved. Were they "stupid" for doing so? And even now, when you are asked to uphold the simplest act of justice—to unveil the names of rapists and sex-traffickers— you slander your own base, deride their intelligence, and distance yourself from their zeal. This is not the posture of a patriot. This is not the voice of a leader who fears God and loves the truth. This is not the resolve of a man who seeks to protect the innocent and punish the wicked. This is the posture of retreat. Of betrayal. Of Benedict Arnold, not a beacon of justice. And unless you repent, history will not remember you as the man who drained the swamp, but as the man who gazed into it's slimy bogs, and saw only himself in its reflected waters, choosing comfort over courage. And what have we received in return for our good faith? A hollow memo. Useless. Toothless. Bereft of names. Devoid of justice. Cloaked in the apathy of bureaucrats and betrayers. It mocks the raped daughters. It silences the grieving mothers. And it shields the wolves who prowled and played in the shadows while the world slept— unaware of their depravity and crime. This, from the man who once thundered that light would flood into every dark corner. That truth would sing loudly again. That we would make America great again! But when that same cheering army—your loyal base — dared to ask you why has justice been withheld, the only answer you could muster was dripping with contempt. You called our questions “bullshit.” You said you no longer wanted our support. Very well, sir. But know this: when a ruler mocks God, tramples on truth, scoffs at justice, and scorns the righteous—he walks upon a foundation brittle as a single-paned glass. And history is littered with kings who fell headlong through that very brittle glass they thought would hold them. You seem to have forgotten something vital: you are not merely a celebrity, and the Presidency is not your personal reality show. You are a magistrate—appointed by providence, entrusted with the sword of civil justice, and held accountable to the God who sees all. According to Romans 13, you bear a divine commission: to be a servant of God, a terror to those who do evil, and a guardian to those who do good. That sword was not given to be juggled for applause, polished for show, or sheathed to avoid offense. It was given to be wielded. And woe to the man who refuses to use it in the service of righteousness. You should consider carefully that the bullet which grazed the cartilage in your ear, and did not bathe itself in your brain matter, was not a matter of blind fortune. It was Providence. It was God's mercy. It was a clear message from heaven that your life is not your own. But if that warning goes unheeded—if you use your breath to mock the righteous and protect the reprobate—may you wallow like a beast upon the White House lawn, like Nebuchadnezzar of old. The annals of Scripture are littered with kings who fancied themselves untouchable and were brought low. Saul, who spared the guilty and lost his throne. Ahab, who abetted Jezebel and died drenched in his own hemoglobin. The rulers of Judah, who forsook justice and were dashed to pieces before Babylon. “Your princes are rebels and companions of thieves; everyone loves a bribe and chases after rewards. They do not defend the orphan, nor does the widow’s plea come before them.” (Isaiah 1:23). And what came next? The Lord arose to judge. When you mock those who cry out for justice, you are not mocking a man—you are scorning the God who hears their cries. When you jeer at those who demand truth, you are not opposing a movement—you are blaspheming a mandate from heaven. The pastors you dismiss, the Scriptures you ignore, the remnant you deride—these are not your political liabilities. They are your final warning. Did Elijah mince words with Ahab? Did Nathan whisper sweet nothings to David after Bathsheba? Did Samuel soften the sentence when he turned his back on Saul? No. The prophets of God were not flatterers. They were firebrands. Their lips were scorched by the coals of heaven’s altar, and their tongues bore the weight of divine judgment. They were sent to kings not to console their egos, but to confront their sins. And so hear me, sir: You are the man. You are the one who made promises in the name of justice and now laughs in its face. You are the one who pledged to reveal the darkness and now calls those who press you “conspirators.” You are the one who asked us to fight for truth—and now, in our moment of resolve, you treat us as enemies. But we are not your enemies. We are your mirror. And what you see in us is the reflection of a standard you have abandoned. Do not tell us the Epstein files are empty until every page is opened. Do not declare innocence where due process has never run its course. Do not tell us to be silent while the cries of the abused still echo in the courts of heaven. If there is no client list, prove it. If there is, unveil it. If the powerful are guilty, indict them. And if it shakes the foundations of this nation, then let it shake—better a nation tremble on truth than stand firm on perversion and lies. And if you, Mr. President, are innocent—then act like it. The burden is not on us to stop asking. The burden is on you to start answering. Remember, Mr. President, human governments fall not because of stolen elections, but because they lose their moral compass. Babylon fell. Rome fell. Jerusalem fell. And every one of them fell not because their armies were weak but because their rulers made peace with wickedness. So repent. Not as a strategy, but as a man who will one day stand barefoot before the risen Christ—whose eyes are like flames of fire—and give an account for every word you’ve spoken, every deed you’ve done, and every opportunity you’ve squandered. Repent—not as a politician managing optics, but as a sinner, condemned beneath the crushing weight of holy justice, dead in trespasses, and utterly incapable of saving yourself. Look to Jesus Christ, the only Savior of men—the spotless Lamb who was slain for the guilty, the righteous King who bore the wrath of God in the place of liars, cowards, fornicators, and kings. He was pierced for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities, and raised for our justification. Even now, He offers mercy to all who will humble themselves and believe. So bow low before the only throne that matters. Flee to the cross where mercy flows. Seek the justice you once promised. Let your yes be yes. Let your sword be unsheathed. Let the guilty tremble. Let justice cascade down like roaring waters, and let righteousness flow like an ever-flowing stream (Amos 5:24). Because if you do not—if you persist in this arrogant charade, this mockery of truth, this betrayal of the innocent—then know this: your movement will wither, your crown will fall, and your name will rot in the annals of history as one who abandoned the cause of righteousness to support the cause of pedophiles, perverts, and those who pilfer Justice. We will not go with you into that darkness. Therefore, we call upon you, Mr. President, to return and stand with us in the light. Sincerely, We The People  XXX engagements  **Related Topics** [threshold](/topic/threshold) [harbor](/topic/harbor) [Post Link](https://x.com/KendallLankford/status/1945969979741929512)
[GUEST ACCESS MODE: Data is scrambled or limited to provide examples. Make requests using your API key to unlock full data. Check https://lunarcrush.ai/auth for authentication information.]
Kendall Lankford (The PRODCAST) @KendallLankford on x XXX followers
Created: 2025-07-17 22:12:52 UTC
DEAR MR PRESIDENT: FROM ONE OF YOUR "STUPID" SUPPORTERS
Mr. President,
I harbor no illusions that these words will cross the threshold of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, let alone find a place upon your high desk. And yet, I serve a God who commands even the bullets to swerve mid flight and to spare your life, by divine mercy, on that fateful day in Butler. That same Almighty God can just as easily place this letter before your eyes if He so wills. Therefore, I write—not as a flatterer in your inner circle, nor as a cog in the machinery of politics, but as a minister of the Gospel of God, charged by Him to proclaim His Word and to measure the deeds of men by the plumb line of His eternal truth. I write as one who has interceded for you in prayer, cast my vote in your favor, absorbed the social cost of defending you, and held out hope that God might break you down in order to build you up, and this republic that I love, for His glory and our great good.
We, the faithful remnant you once roused to hope, are not the fools you now mock with your derision. We are not the mindless herd your recent contempt dares to imagine. We are not your pawns, nor the sycophantic chorus you employ to fill your narcissistic ears and fattened ego with more and more applause. We are citizens of this great nation—yes—but more profoundly, we are subjects of the Most High God, who reigns far above every earthly ruler. We serve the King of kings, Jesus Christ, who is sovereign over all the rulers of this earth (Rev. 1:5) and whose dominion is everlasting, unshaken by time, election, or rebellion (Dan. 2:44–45).
This King has not stuttered concerning in His decrees. His Word does not murmur about your divinely given responsibilities as president and the duties of your office, but proclaims them with undeniable clarity (Rom. 13:1–4; Deut. 17:18–20). Civil rulers are bound to govern with righteousness, not vanity (Prov. 16:12; X Sam. 23:3–4). The sword entrusted to them is not a scepter for self-made glory, but a sharpened blade—commissioned by the Lord of All to bring terror to evildoers (Rom. 13:4) and to shelter the innocent beneath the wings of justice (Ps. 82:3–4; Isa. 1:17; Jer. 22:3). You have failed on both of these fronts.
You once stood before the American people with fire in your voice and thunder in your words, vowing to drain the swamp. And we—the forgotten, the faithful, the long-suffering backbone of this Republic—believed you. Not because we are gullible, but because we had not yet abandoned hope that righteousness could still echo from the highest halls in Washington.
You vowed the Epstein files would be released. You declared the names would be made public. You appointed an Attorney General to carry out that task—under your authority, with your backing, and by your word. She acknowledged the list was on her desk and would soon be unveiled. But when your supporters—the ones who elevated you, defended you, and bore the cost of doing so—asked that your vow be fulfilled, you recoiled. Not in courage, but in cowardice. Not as a man of justice, but as one who fears what light might reveal. You brushed aside the oath you once made. You punted your own promise to discretion—as if the sword of the state were a toy, and justice a matter of taste. You said she should release “whatever she thinks is credible,” as though truth were subjective and righteousness negotiable. But God does not deal in political expedience. He demands that rulers rule justly, punish evil, and defend the innocent—not retreat behind talking points when the hour for justice has come.
All the while, the swamp you swore to drain has festered and boiled with the sulfuric stench of sexual depravity, political perversion, and demonic predation. Its fumes have risen unchecked—and not only did you fail to expose them, you turned and ridiculed those who demanded that you do. You did not shine the light; you mocked those who carried it. You did not fight the corruption; you laughed at those who remembered your promises and dared to hold you to them. You labeled as cowards those who have shown more courage in these recent months than you have. You dismissed the faithful as conspiracists, not because they have abandoned your cause, but because they have upheld it with more conviction than you. Because they still believe in justice. Because, against all odds, many of them still believe in you—even as you trample their loyalty beneath your feet.
One of your own supporters, a fireman, died at your rally—believing you stood for something noble. Did he die for a lie, Mr. President? Many more languished in jail cells because they believed your words about a stolen election and took to the Capitol not to destroy, but to defend what they thought you loved. Were they "stupid" for doing so? And even now, when you are asked to uphold the simplest act of justice—to unveil the names of rapists and sex-traffickers— you slander your own base, deride their intelligence, and distance yourself from their zeal.
This is not the posture of a patriot. This is not the voice of a leader who fears God and loves the truth. This is not the resolve of a man who seeks to protect the innocent and punish the wicked. This is the posture of retreat. Of betrayal. Of Benedict Arnold, not a beacon of justice. And unless you repent, history will not remember you as the man who drained the swamp, but as the man who gazed into it's slimy bogs, and saw only himself in its reflected waters, choosing comfort over courage.
And what have we received in return for our good faith? A hollow memo. Useless. Toothless. Bereft of names. Devoid of justice. Cloaked in the apathy of bureaucrats and betrayers. It mocks the raped daughters. It silences the grieving mothers. And it shields the wolves who prowled and played in the shadows while the world slept— unaware of their depravity and crime. This, from the man who once thundered that light would flood into every dark corner. That truth would sing loudly again. That we would make America great again! But when that same cheering army—your loyal base — dared to ask you why has justice been withheld, the only answer you could muster was dripping with contempt. You called our questions “bullshit.” You said you no longer wanted our support. Very well, sir. But know this: when a ruler mocks God, tramples on truth, scoffs at justice, and scorns the righteous—he walks upon a foundation brittle as a single-paned glass. And history is littered with kings who fell headlong through that very brittle glass they thought would hold them.
You seem to have forgotten something vital: you are not merely a celebrity, and the Presidency is not your personal reality show. You are a magistrate—appointed by providence, entrusted with the sword of civil justice, and held accountable to the God who sees all. According to Romans 13, you bear a divine commission: to be a servant of God, a terror to those who do evil, and a guardian to those who do good. That sword was not given to be juggled for applause, polished for show, or sheathed to avoid offense. It was given to be wielded. And woe to the man who refuses to use it in the service of righteousness.
You should consider carefully that the bullet which grazed the cartilage in your ear, and did not bathe itself in your brain matter, was not a matter of blind fortune. It was Providence. It was God's mercy. It was a clear message from heaven that your life is not your own. But if that warning goes unheeded—if you use your breath to mock the righteous and protect the reprobate—may you wallow like a beast upon the White House lawn, like Nebuchadnezzar of old.
The annals of Scripture are littered with kings who fancied themselves untouchable and were brought low. Saul, who spared the guilty and lost his throne. Ahab, who abetted Jezebel and died drenched in his own hemoglobin. The rulers of Judah, who forsook justice and were dashed to pieces before Babylon. “Your princes are rebels and companions of thieves; everyone loves a bribe and chases after rewards. They do not defend the orphan, nor does the widow’s plea come before them.” (Isaiah 1:23). And what came next? The Lord arose to judge.
When you mock those who cry out for justice, you are not mocking a man—you are scorning the God who hears their cries. When you jeer at those who demand truth, you are not opposing a movement—you are blaspheming a mandate from heaven. The pastors you dismiss, the Scriptures you ignore, the remnant you deride—these are not your political liabilities. They are your final warning.
Did Elijah mince words with Ahab? Did Nathan whisper sweet nothings to David after Bathsheba? Did Samuel soften the sentence when he turned his back on Saul? No. The prophets of God were not flatterers. They were firebrands. Their lips were scorched by the coals of heaven’s altar, and their tongues bore the weight of divine judgment. They were sent to kings not to console their egos, but to confront their sins.
And so hear me, sir: You are the man. You are the one who made promises in the name of justice and now laughs in its face. You are the one who pledged to reveal the darkness and now calls those who press you “conspirators.” You are the one who asked us to fight for truth—and now, in our moment of resolve, you treat us as enemies.
But we are not your enemies. We are your mirror. And what you see in us is the reflection of a standard you have abandoned.
Do not tell us the Epstein files are empty until every page is opened. Do not declare innocence where due process has never run its course. Do not tell us to be silent while the cries of the abused still echo in the courts of heaven. If there is no client list, prove it. If there is, unveil it. If the powerful are guilty, indict them. And if it shakes the foundations of this nation, then let it shake—better a nation tremble on truth than stand firm on perversion and lies. And if you, Mr. President, are innocent—then act like it. The burden is not on us to stop asking. The burden is on you to start answering.
Remember, Mr. President, human governments fall not because of stolen elections, but because they lose their moral compass. Babylon fell. Rome fell. Jerusalem fell. And every one of them fell not because their armies were weak but because their rulers made peace with wickedness.
So repent. Not as a strategy, but as a man who will one day stand barefoot before the risen Christ—whose eyes are like flames of fire—and give an account for every word you’ve spoken, every deed you’ve done, and every opportunity you’ve squandered. Repent—not as a politician managing optics, but as a sinner, condemned beneath the crushing weight of holy justice, dead in trespasses, and utterly incapable of saving yourself. Look to Jesus Christ, the only Savior of men—the spotless Lamb who was slain for the guilty, the righteous King who bore the wrath of God in the place of liars, cowards, fornicators, and kings. He was pierced for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities, and raised for our justification. Even now, He offers mercy to all who will humble themselves and believe. So bow low before the only throne that matters. Flee to the cross where mercy flows. Seek the justice you once promised. Let your yes be yes. Let your sword be unsheathed. Let the guilty tremble. Let justice cascade down like roaring waters, and let righteousness flow like an ever-flowing stream (Amos 5:24).
Because if you do not—if you persist in this arrogant charade, this mockery of truth, this betrayal of the innocent—then know this: your movement will wither, your crown will fall, and your name will rot in the annals of history as one who abandoned the cause of righteousness to support the cause of pedophiles, perverts, and those who pilfer Justice.
We will not go with you into that darkness. Therefore, we call upon you, Mr. President, to return and stand with us in the light.
Sincerely,
We The People
XXX engagements
