Trump: The Christmas Grift That Just Keeps Grifting …

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(EDITOR’S NOTE: In order to help pay his ever-expanding legal bills and to prove yet again that nobody — we mean NOBODY — can hustle his supporters like he can, Donald Trump will be in Naples, Florida, Friday with one little hand out and the other around the neck of those suckers, er, supporters as he squeezes thousands of dollars out of them in this the season of joy and giving. Here’s how his personal holiday fundraiser took shape …)

TRUMP: First, I just want to very, very briefly thank you for showing up at this incredibly important meeting that has to do with all these fucking lawyer bills piling up all around me again and to tell you there is no way I am paying them. NO WAY! If I had successfully stolen the election, which I still might, this wouldn’t be a problem! I would have just jailed these piranhas who are coming after me and would have been able to continue doing whatever I want to America. All the trouble I have ever been in in my entire, tremendous life has been everybody else’s fault as you all well know by now.  Many, many people — many — have treated me very unfairly. So I have gathered you here today in the Extremely Special  Golden, Golden Room here at Mar-a-Lago, where the broads are thin and the steaks are fat, to come up with a way in which other people will continue to pay my very, very unfair and gigantic legal bills.

<Silence in the room for 17 seconds>

TRUMP: Well??? What, are you all dead???? I need ideas!!


TRUMP interrupts: Speaking of dead …

MILLER: Ha! Good one , Fuhrer! Even though you are extremely mad, not breathing while you holler at us, and are being unfairly treated by millions of people, you have not lost your stellar sense of humor! This is a sign of inspiring Arian leadership and strength!

TRUMP: Just get to your idea, Stephen. I haven’t got all day. I gotta 2 o’clock tee time, a nasty hook that needs fixing, and Miss Mar-a-Lago 2016, um, caddying for me … if you know what I mean …

MILLER: Ya, Fuhrer! Well, what if we were to do a Christmas Season Tour with you as the tremendous host?! We could charge big money for people to come out and adore you this Christmas season.

ERIC TRUMP: What a stupid, dupid idear. Yer such an ass-kisser, Stephen. Always comparing dad to Hitler. He’s great, but not that great.

TRUMP: Shut up, Eric. And zip up yer pants.

ERIC: Sorry, Pop.

TRUMP: Go ahead, Stephen.

MILLER: Ya, thank you, Fuhrer. Anyway, everybody in America associates you with Christmas. They know how much you love it — especially the Evangelical Christians — and I am thinking they would pay good money to hear you talk about it, and to bless them and their families. You could tell them Christmas stories and sing Christmas carols and hand out Christmas cookies. You could even sing and dance!

TRUMP: Huh. This is hardly the stupidest thing I’ve heard. Usually, Rudy’s good for that. Say, where is Rudy? I ordered him to this terrifically important meeting today.

MILLER: We got a call last night that he confused a landscaping company for a car dealership and was ticketed for driving out of the place in a four-door leaf-blower before plowing into an old lady on the sidewalk. Now he’s spending this morning shopping for a new car and a lawyer who will work for free.

TRUMP: Glad I asked … Continue with this Christmas grift, er, gift, Stephen.

MILLER: This will not be a grift, Fuhrer! It really will be a gift! Why I see you being center stage in a fabulous show of Christmas merrymaking. Why the charm just oozes off you, Fuhrer. Not even Santa is as beloved as you are among the MAGAs.

TRUMP: This is true. I am a giving, loving, jolly man. Not as old as Santa and certainly not as fat. But I am beloved and caring …

IVANKA TRUMP: <coos inaudibly for 29 seconds>

TRUMP: Such a tremendous point, sweet spot. And may I say that turtle neck looks especially steamy on you. Not everybody can wear a turtleneck and throw off that kind of heat. Somebody turn the air conditioning on, Trumpy Claus is getting a bit hot over here!

IVANKA: <coos inaudibly for 11 seconds>

TRUMP: OK, OK, I’ll stay focused. Not easy when I have yer kind of, er, talent around, you hot, shiney little Christmas ornament you.

RON DeSANTIS: What did she say? I can’t seem to hear her.

TRUMP: She said we should consider calling it a holiday event and not just Christmas event, so we can rake in the Jewish money, too. You see? This gal is thinking straight. She not only looks like a million bucks, but she’s got focus. Not sure about the rest of you morons.

DeSANTIS: I’m not sure that was necessary, sir.

TRUMP: That was completely necessary, Dave.

DeSANTIS: It’s, RON, sir.

TRUMP: Oh, so you are coming to my meeting and correcting me now?

DeSANTIS: Sorry, sir.

TRUMP: Listen to me, Dave. If you really do want to BE the second-coming of me, you need to shut up and LISTEN to me. Got it?

DeSANTIS: Yes, sir.

TRUMP: Now, where should we have this extraordinary, terrific gala?

DeSANTIS: Miami?

TRUMP: They’d never fall for it in Miami, Dave. Too sophisticated. A lot of old money there. They aren’t easily impressed. I mean, I could still pull it off, but couldn’t charge near as much as I could elsewhere.

ERIC: New Orleans!

TRUMP: That’s in Alabama, you well-water drinking moron. I swear, yer mother must have been on one of her ambien and whisky binges when she had you … New Orleans …

DON JR. <sniffling>: Naples.

DeSANTIS: Italy?????

TRUMP: No, Naples, Florida, fathead. Are you sure you are my hair appearance?

DeSANTIS: Sorry again, sir.

TRUMP: Listen, Dave, if yer gonna run for president in 2032, you need to smarten up and understand this corrupt state we live in a helluva lot better than you seem to. It’s full of separate tribes of gullible, white morons just dying — literally — to be told what to do and who to hate. We even got the hispanics starting to buy into our bullshit.

DeSANTIS: 2032?

TRUMP: Want me to spell it out for you, wise guy?

DeSANTIS: No, sir, 2032 is fine. I can wait.

TRUMP: Yer damn right you can. Look, Naples is perfect. Got a lot of rubes from the Midwest there. All those farmers from Iowa, Minnesota and Nevada … they all got fat on those subsidies we paid ’em to grow nothing. They bought that town up in the last couple of decades and turned it into a Republican oncave. There’s probably 50 country clubs that were built there with the billions of government money they got simply for keeping their mouths shut and doing nothing. And nobody loves me more than those bought-off, tractor-driving hayseeds. They still fall for every trick in my book. Just like they use to in the Northeast, before they got on to me. No, this is fertile ground to till.

MILLER: Nevada?

TRUMP: Shatup. Did you people not just hear the sensational points I was just making here????


TRUMP: Good. Now what do you think we can charge those hoople heads to attend this, er, show?

ERIC: 50 dollars!

TRUMP: That’s it. Rocco, please escort my son out of here and lock him his padded play room. I am about to overdose on his idiocy.

ERIC: Awww, no fair, pop! Lemme stay!!! Don’t lock me in that room again!! I won’t say another word. Promise, promise, promise!

TRUMP: OK, but one more word out of you, and yer gone.

MILLER: It might be a good idea if Melania accompanied you to these merrymaking sessions, Fuhrer.


MILLER: Melania … yer wife, Fuhrer.

TRUMP: Oh, yeah, right … Melania … She’s been away for more kidney surgery and I haven’t seen her in a couple of weeks.

MILLER: Your beloved supporters love her, Fuhrer. She wouldn’t have to say a word. Just purse her lips, look severe and puff her kidneys out.

TRUMP: I like this idea. Next time you see her, let her know the plan. Now how much are we charging, and when can we pull off this heist?

DON JR. <sniffling>: I did a line at a place …

TRUMP: Did a line???

DON JR. <sniffling>: I mean, I gotta line on a place in Naples that’s good to go Friday, December 3. <sniffling> Big-ass country club. Eagle’s Perch or something like that. <sniffling> Owned by the Gunderson Family. Made their money on a chain of successful supper clubs in Wisconsin. Asked ’em a couple of years ago if we could use it for a campaign event. They said oh ya, you-betcha. <sniffling> They really talk like that. Anyway, I bet we can charge $20,000 a couple and $15,000 for singles. Can probably jam 500 or so in their banquet hall. Cool $10 mil right there, pop.

TRUMP: Hear that, Dave? This is what a Christmas jingle-jangle really sounds like. Pack up the sled, boys. Let’s go make some money … Ho, ho, ho …

Written By


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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