Trump: Unauthorized

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And now, The Story Of Difficulties. Papa-T tells Donald he doesn't understand how Donald can need a loan when the hotel -- the Grand Hyatt, formerly known as the Commodore Hotel Whorehouse Of Magnificent Whores, that is -- is doing so well. Donald insists that he "overshot" on an item or two, but Papa-T admonishes him that when he trained the boys not to spend their own money on real estate, he didn't mean to suggest they should instead spend his. Still, he wants to know what he can do to help, which Donald finds hilarious for reasons entirely unknown to me. Oh, wait -- now, we're back at the radio interview. What? Time is apparently not only compressed, but also bendy. There isn't even anything to this, except the host giving Donald shit about his incoming money and the pressure to "top [him]self." Trump assures the host that he is already at work on a new plot to buy a big building and name it after himself. I'm not sure that really qualifies as a plan, so much as a birthday wish, but I'm sure that to Trump, it's totally a plan. I cannot tell you how lame and goofy the next segment is using words I've learned during my first three decades as a conversationalist, but as Donald Trump makes his way through some lobby or other, a series of voices -- the Judgmental Public judges you, Donald Trump! -- are heard on the soundtrack saying that Trump is a "one-hit wonder," that Ivana is hot, that a wait-and-see attitude should be taken...that talking about Trump is boring, and that Trump is "what America is all about." I'm serious when I tell you that we are to believe that Trump is thinking real hard about how to come up with a bigger, better project, and he's doing it because he hears strangers' voices in his head, and because those voices doubt his awesomeness, he is determined to spite them. They may be on the TV, by the way, but that's less excellent, so I'm ignoring the small possibility that that's the case. And then we are watching Ed Koch on TV, yammering about priorities. It's really exhausting, the entire thing. And where is this TV? Well, it turns out that it is in the Trumpartment, where young Donald Junior is running around playing with another kid (whom he could buy and sell eight times over, obviously). Ivana's voice can be heard hollering into all the chaos, and then she uncorks my favorite line of the entire movie, which I repeated after I watched it until several different people wanted to choke me with their bare hands just to watch me turn blue. And it goes like this: "You vill stop da scrrrreaming, and da shooooting of da best friend!" Oh, Ivana. I have literally spoken that line in three different major (and semi-major) American cities in three different states (and, in the case of Wisconsin, "states") over the last week. Ask anyone who's seen me during that time, and they'll tell you I did that line for them. Sars? ["Three times!" -- Sars] Anyway, then Ivana is hollering for the nanny, and it's just all-out amazing in the Trumpartment with Ivana's gold shiny skirt and so forth, and there's so much happening, and now I suddenly kind of feel like Jacob, except that I don't regretfully think Trump is slightly awesome and I don't have any compassion for him. Trump comes home just in time to pick Ivana up and give her some smooches (who thought Donald Trump was so romantic?), and then it is family bedlam, because Daddy has just had a brainstorm. Or a migraine? Or an attack of sleepiness? Something, anyway.

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