PUT ON THE SHOES, TODD

Satirical Memorandum: From Susie Wiles To Todd Blanche

INTER-OFFICE MEMORANDUM

From: Susie Wiles, White House Chief of Staff
To: Todd Blanche, Acting Attorney General
Re: Pam's Shoes. Trump's Orders. Your New Reality.
Priority: Non-Negotiable. Read Twice. Then Get Down There.

Todd,

The President has asked me to convey several things. I will convey them professionally and without editorial comment, which is itself a form of editorial comment, but here we are.

First: congratulations on your appointment.

Second: put on the heels.

Pam left them on the floor when the Truth Social notification came. They are yours now. This is not a suggestion. This is not open for discussion. The President has reviewed the situation, considered the available options, and determined that you are to fill Pam's shoes — literally, Todd, on your actual feet — effective immediately. There is no room for negotiation on this point. I have been authorized to tell you that the President finds the optics important.

I know what you're thinking. You are thinking: Susie, I am a 51-year-old former federal prosecutor and I am not wearing kitten heels to the Department of Justice.

Todd.

Put on the heels.

They will gap at the ankle. They will pinch at the toe. The ball of your foot will file a formal resignation somewhere around your second press conference. You will ignore it. You will keep the scowl. You will keep your head down. These are the three non-negotiable requirements of the role. The heels are load-bearing to all of them.

I have worn heels. For decades. Professionally. I understand the adjustment period and I am genuinely happy to provide tips. The key is posture, Todd. Head down, weight forward, commit fully to the position.

But I am not writing to help you learn to walk.

I am writing because the President needs his loafers clean. At all times.

And he needs them cleaned correctly.

And correctly, Todd, means with your tongue.

This is not an airport shoeshine. There is no kit. No buffer. No pleasant man with a cloth and a can of Kiwi doing a perfectly adequate job for three dollars and a tip. The President is very specific about this. He needs the personal touch. He needs dedication. He needs a man who has demonstrated — across four criminal cases, thirty-four consecutive felony counts, and one deeply mysterious afternoon with Ghislaine Maxwell — that he will go wherever the work takes him and do whatever the work requires when he gets there.

That man is you, Todd.

On your knees. In Pam's heels. Tongue ready at all times.

I needn’t remind you, but the President's cankles are prolific. They are generous beyond measure. And, everything that seeps and drips and cascades past those cankles — the thirty-four felony counts, the Epstein files, the warm fecal byproduct of an administration that has been stepping in its own mess so long it has lost the biological ability to smell itself — often ends up pooling around his loafers like a backed-up drain in a gas station bathroom.

The smell?

It smells like a dirty diaper left in a hot car in August with the windows up.

It smells like the legal brief that lost thirty-four counts and never emotionally recovered.

It smells like whatever has been quietly rotting in the seams of American democracy since your client walked back into the Oval Office.

And the President needs it gone, Todd. We all need it gone.

No shortcuts. No substitutions. No asking what it is or where it came from or why it smells the way it smells, because those are not questions the Acting Attorney General asks. Those are questions people with nothing left to lose ask, and you, Todd, have the title and the motorcade and the official seal and Pam's shoes on your feet and a great deal left to lose.

And it is not only the President's footwear that needs your attention.

If anyone else steps in it — and they will, because the cankle drip does not discriminate — those shoes need cleaning too. Full ring, Todd. Tongue first. However long it takes. Wherever it takes you.

These are the President's instructions.

I am simply the messenger, positioned as far upwind as the organizational chart allows.

Good luck down there,

Susie Wiles
White House Chief of Staff

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