Dear President Bozo, Payosa Loco,
I am writing to inform you that your name will need to changed, effective immediately. 
I have been contacted by the Bozo the Clown Fan Club and their membership is very concerned that you are doing a disservice to the late clown and his legacy. The membership is adamant that you and your minions have sullied the profession, spreading lies and anger, unlike the real Bozo who was a happy and mirthful clown, blessed with the seal of approval from the National Union of Friendly Americans (NUFA), among other benevolent organizations.

All I can say, Mr. President, is that it’s a pretty telling indication of character when the clowns kick you out of the club.
We’ll simplify your name as the clown fraternity has requested.
Henceforth, you shall be known simply as Donald the Clown, or Payosa Loco as you’re known in Mexico, until some time in the likely future when even the angry clowns give you the boot.
With that procedural action out of the way I will get down to business.
Hereafter, you will be known as President Donald Rumpt the Clown. 
It is clear that in order to solidify power you are choosing cabinet and staff clowns who seem to cast off moral character with as much zeal as you do. To say you’ve surrounded yourself with clowns is a grave disservice to the good clowns of the world. 
Remember, you have no mandate. You lost the popular vote by a fairly wide margin and therefore are not the chief clown of the people. Lacking gravitas or any hint of a humble nature we insist that you climb back in that little clown car with all of your clown pals until you can understand that unifying this great nation of clowns will not happen until you honk that horn on your belt and signal that you will represent more than the privileged, the billionaires, the clowns that have butlers and servants to dress them for the circus.

You have no mandate.
You can’t privatize the notion of clowns, you can’t privatize clown entitlement programs or take away the rights of clowns to organize. 
You can’t support and spread false news that other clowns are voting illegally or take it upon yourself to demean clowns of many colors and faiths. Of all clowns, you certainly can’t lie to the Boy Scouts, which you did last year. At last count you’ve told at least 8,105 whoppers over the last two years and no clown worth his or her salt will ever accept that from a fellow clown. Yes, you’ve provided us with plenty of yuks during your term but we’re laughing and crying at the same time and your habit of laughing at us and not with us fails the basic measure of what it means to be a clown. Laughter — yes, lying — no.

Hey, not every clown wants to paint his face orange and wear his hair like you. Matter of fact, Mr. President with the shiny shoes and foldover hair, many clowns in this neck of the woods happen to feel that you aren’t really a clown at all, that you’re just a charlatan, a fake, a talking head on the TV who seemed to think that the best way to the White House was to act like a clown who looks eerily like Benito Mussolini with hair.

Many of our brothers and sisters were obviously willing to be led to pasture like a bunch of cows but a larger segment still didn’t vote for you, didn’t fall for your clown act.
You have no mandate, sir.
We, the good clowns of America, outnumber you and your faux clowns so don’t think you’re the reason the sun rises and sets every day. We, the good clowns, will honk our horns until your foul words and selfish interests are lost in the din.
The seltzer bottles will be at the ready.
You have no mandate.
We outnumber you and your fool’s parade to nowhere.