EXCLUSIVE: The Meeting Behind Trump’s New Advertising Blitzkrieg

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(EDITOR’S NOTE: The Trump Campaign announced late last week that it was pulling all TV advertising in an effort to take stock in its messaging and reinvigorate the slumping chances of its candidate in November. A meeting on this subject, which followed Trump’s 727th round of golf during his presidency Sunday, was leaked to us from the stately White House Bunker by a source who was in a damn good position to hear everything. The transcript from that meeting follows.)

Donald Trump: First, I just want to thank everybody for coming here today and presenting your terrific ideas for the sensational ads we will be running to beat Sleepy Joe in the massive, important election on Nov. 5.

Mark Meadows: Nov. 3, sir.

Trump: Who the hell are you?

Meadows: I’m your Chief of Staff, sir.

Trump: What happened to Vick?

Meadows: You mean, Nick.

Trump: I actually mean, who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my very important meeting, pecker head?????

Ivanka Trump:  <coos inaudibly for 12 seconds>

Trump: Well, OK, cuddle-thumper. If you say so. But I don’t remember firing Dick. I think he musta left on his own militia. Anyway, apologies, Chad.

Meadows: Mark.

Trump: I said that.

Meadows: Er, yes sir.

Trump: Before we get into your ideas for my new, terrific ads, I want to give you an idea of the sensational things I have been thinking about. I think we would be very wise to particulate them in some form.

<Room falls silent>

Trump: I see a farmer waking up in the hills of Missouri next to a pasture where they love, love, love me and after milking his cows, getting some coffee and then looking outside his kitchen window at the sunshine and maybe even a beautiful rooster, with sharp claws, giant wings and feather-horns. Then, just like that, I see a gigantic explosion in the distance and a mushroom cloud somewhere over Chicago. Then I see the farmer diving for cover under his kitchen table, before I appear out of the mushroom cloud and stand over him. I lift him up and tell him to look out the window again and there is now a sensational, terrific rainbow leading to a pile of money that I am now handing out to the billions of people who support me as they bow down to me.

<Room falls silent again for a good, solid minute>

Trump: Well? Brilliant, huh? Left you dopes speechless.

<Stephen Miller breaks the silence>: Brilliant indeed, Fuhrer! YA, YA, YA, YA!!! Brilliant!!! You are projecting strength and wealth and DOMINANCE!!!!

Trump: Thank you, Stephen. You are always a very good boy. Anybody else?

Bill Stepien: Huh. Well … Um … I think you have given us something to think about, sir. I do appreciate your urgency, and ability to see the absolute worst in America. You are very gifted this way.

Trump: You being a wiseguy?

Stepien: No sir, I mean it. When we shut down the bridges in Jersey for Christie I thought we had revolutionized the way campaigns could inflict carnage on our citizens, but it is obvious your vision far exceeds anything me or the governor could have ever dreamed about.

Miller: I like this one, Fuhrer. I can see fire in his eyes and a fork in his tongue.

Trump: Yeah, me too, Stephen. The other guy looked like a frustrated Viking who hadn’t been laid in about month.

Brad Parscale: I am sitting right here, Mr. Trump.

Trump: Of course you are, but you are actually sitting on the rail and away from the table. Will you see this gentleman out of the bunker, Chad?

Meadows: Mark. My name’s Mark.

Trump: Your name’s whatever the fuck I decide it is, sonny, now escort Eric the Fake out of here, or you’ll be next.

Meadows: Yes sir.

Trump: Well, what do you think of the new guy, Ivanka?

Ivanka: <37 seconds of inaudible cooing>

Trump: God, you’re smart. And look at you … A neck like a swan, stacked …  and those boots … pointed, but very direct … threatening. And your lips, fuller than last time … puffy, suggestive. It reminds of that time in Trump Tower … 37th floor, you had just turned 17, Jeffrey was looking for you, and we had a pillow fight, and  …

Miller: FUHRER!!!

Trump: Er, sorry, where was I?

Meadows: You were on the 37th floor of Trump Tower and it was just starting to get good!!

Stepien: Um, I think we are losing focus here. We’ve got less than a 100 days to go and really need to come up with a strategy ASAP.

Trump: What about shutting down all the bridges and roads on Election Day? Sort of a grander version of what you and Chris pulled in Jersey?

Stepien: That is a strategy, not an ad, sir. I think  we can build in some messaging around this, but we need a message that will resonate resoundingly with the voters.

Trump: You don’t think shutting down all the bridges and blowing up Chicago will resonate with my voters????

Stepien: I didn’t say that …

Trump <hollering>: Well, what are you saying, smart guy? You think your brain is bigger than mine? Look, goddammit, I got elected without you in 2014, and I’ll get elected again this year, got it?????

Ivanka: <cooingly interrupts for 45 seconds>

Trump: You’re right again, lightning bug. It’s just that everything has been so hard on me lately. Weak people are dying all over the place … People are actually listening to the awful black people who hate me … The economy is going backwards … Sleepy Joe is hiding in his basement and his poll numbers are going through the roof … My golf swing is starting to suffer and I just can’t shake this sudden pull-hook to the left … Fauci is more popular than I am … And Obama is starting to show up in my dreams again …

<A door slams>

Trump: What the hell was that???

Miller: New campaign manager just ran out of here like he just saw the devil, Fuhrer.

Trump: Huh. Now there’s an idea … Get me Steve Bannon on the phone.

Miller: Ya, Fuhrer.


(D. Earl Stephens is a retired journalist and author of the book, “Toxic Tales: A Caustic Collection of Donald J. Trump’s Very Important Letters”)

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Lived everywhere. Started in Africa, then to America, then to Europe, then ... back to America, which lately seems to pride itself in going back. Almost made it 30 years in print journalism, before it all went bad. Really? Don’t think things are bad, eh? Who’s your new president, pal? How did that happen? Because it all went bad.

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