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Inside the Commodore, Wennik listens to Trump's explanation of how the convention center project is for suckers (projects are treated with about the loyalty shown to wives, in case you're keeping track at home), but he's convinced they can turn the hotel into something fabulous. He even stops a couple of hookers to portentously tell them that they will ultimately have to find somewhere else to ply their trade, leading one of them to protest on behalf of the needs of her hungry children and "candy-ass husband." I'm thinking her husband already isn't too happy with the situation as it stands, what with the fact that his wife is having sex for money, so maybe he'd be able to endure a little deprivation while she relocates to a different hotel. On the other hand, I have heard he's a bit of a candy-ass. Papa-T tells Donald that "the Commodore Hotel is a whorehouse." In case you didn't notice, with the way it was a house full of whores. Magnificent whores! Which are the best kind, incidentally. Donald mentions the great location again, and Papa-T sensitively says in front of a suddenly present Freddy that if it were Freddy's idea, he'd think it was "the booze talking." So as relates to the fact that Freddy's drinking continues and is now noticed by others, you'd best count yourself told. Seamless! Papa-T continues his rant about the fact that "New York City is dead," and then threatens to change his name to "Chump, Fred Chump" if Donald keeps up the shenanigans. So now we know where Donald got the incredibly shitty sense of humor, which leaves only about a half a billion genetic, logical, sexual, and financial mysteries remaining. A bar. An air of inevitability. Freddy and Donald. Bad, rhythm-proof head-bobbing. An exotic female. The shooting down of Donald Trump. The boasting of Donald Trump about all the tail he'd be getting if they all knew how important he would be someday. The fact that he won't tell them, because he wants them to love him for his mind. On with the show! Trump gives the most pitiful press conference in history to a tiny number of reporters in the lobby of the Commodore, in which he announces his intent to make this rat-infested flophouse into a luxury hotel. A reporter who is skeptical enough to dismissively eat a sandwich right through the middle of all this (in case you didn't know, eating a sandwich while someone is talking is the way that Hollywood represents bored, world-weary cynicism) mentions to Trump that he hasn't even put any buildings up yet. Trump banters back that the reporter doesn't have a Pulitzer yet, either. And, of course, I use the word "banter" very loosely, and wouldn't even have known that was meant to be sharp-tongued if Wennik didn't immediately and exaggeratedly cover his eyes with his hand, all, "Oh, that was a painful one, Karnak, now let's talk about Steve and Eydie!" After the press conference, an ever-supportive Freddy tells Donald that he's going back to the office, and then Wennik consoles Trump with the following bon mot: "I know that things look really, really rough right now, but remember this. [Failed pause for the development of comic tension.] It'll get worse." Wennik should have his own show, and it should have the word "beleaguered" in the description in TV Guide. And I shouldn't watch it, but I know people who should.