Dear President-Elect Trump: You used to be your own boss. Not any more.

Remember that final showdown moment in Disney's Aladdin, where Jafar uses his third and final wish to become the most powerful being he can imagine, a Genie? In achieving his goal, there was a twist that Jafar didn't see coming:

"Phenomenal cosmic powers, itty-bitty living space."

It's happened to you, too.

Not the living space. You'll get to roll into the White House, fly on Air Force One, and have all the bling and trappings of being the most powerful US politician of all. Just like a reality TV show.

Your twist is that now, you work for me.

I didn't vote for you.

But that's what being President means. You have to represent and care for the well-being of the more than 59 million of us who voted for Hillary Clinton, the millions who voted for Gary Johnson and Jill Stein, in addition to the more than 59 million who voted for you.

Now, you work for me, a Gay dad and grown-up child of immigrants who writes books for kids.

Now, you work for my nephew's daughter, an African American high school student with straight A's.

Now, you work for my disabled friend who's a huge Ally to the LGBTQ community.

Now, you work for every single American.

We will keep you accountable. We will require you to be measured. And thoughtful. And balanced as you take action.

Because now, as an elected public servant, you work for us.

And we've learned your reality TV show line:

"You're Fired."



And like every good boss, we won't be afraid to use it.