by Alec Baldwin
Jared reminds me of President Macaroon, and Iʼll bet thirty years from now Ivanka will be as great-looking as Mrs. Macaroon, who I had great, great chemistry with in Paris—I mean, whoa, sixty-four, truly unbelievable, almost as old as my first wife. Except unlike Macaroon, Jared wouldn’t have pulled the stunt with the handshake. Jared doesn’t have much of a handshake. In fact, is Jared a Fredo? I’m starting to worry he’s a Fredo who thinks he’s a Michael.
WE’RE BOTH STRONG AND KNOW THE SCORE
Since everybody except the fake media and the Democrats and paid protesters and Hillary finally realized that the Russia stories were a complete and total ruse and hoax—a hoax set up starting like three hundred years ago, I’ve recently heard, by what they call the Illuminati, so scary, so bad—I was finally “allowed” to meet with Putin, at the big European leaders meeting in Germany right after the Fourth of July. I knew from my special NSC chart that Putin isn’t a big guy, but for such a strong, strong, strong leader he is so unbelievably short, much shorter than my junior special presidential assistant, Barron, if you can believe it. At one of the photo sessions I tried to make Merkel and Putin stand back-to-back to prove she’s taller.
At my official meeting with Putin, I didnʼt want my national security adviser there, General McMaster, because the whole military thing wouldʼve given it a harsh vibe. “So I need to get this out of the way, Vladimir, okay?” I said. “Did you do it—ʻinterfereʼ with our election?” He said very vehemently, “No, I did not, absolutely not.” Then I asked him a second time, but in a totally different way—I stared into his eyes, deep, the way my mother taught me. She always said, “You stare into someoneʼs eyes, you donʼt flinch at all, and they canʼt help but tell you the truth.” Like when sheʼd go, “Don, did you take the ten dollars from my purse?” with the stare, I was done. Usually. So in Hamburg I did the staring thing with Putin the second time I asked—“You really werenʼt involved in our election at all?”—and he said again, “Absolutely not.” And I said, “Okay, good, but you know, we can’t have any doubt about our elections, especially since the fake news in America is still exaggerating about it, and Iʼll probably have to sign this sanctions bill, but okay, whatever, letʼs you and I move forward. In fact, letʼs figure out how we can do cybersecurity together. And destroy ISIS, and solve Syria. Okay?” He did ask me how Israel got that ISIS intel I told his foreign minister about in May, but I just smiled and made the zipped-lips motion, which is the same in Russian.
We also discussed history, how Germany had tried to destroy America and freedom, and he talked about how Russia and America had won World War II against the Germans together, which many people don’t realize, and wondered how Americans would feel if the Mexicans took back Texas and California, because those itsy-bitsy “NATO” countries up north all used to be part of Russia. We also had a chance to figure out why the two of us have such a strong natural bond, almost like brothers, aside from how we’re both strong and know the score. The toughest moments in both of our lives, the ones that didn’t kill us but made us stronger, happened right at the same time—the Soviet Union fell apart exactly when some of my companies were declaring “bankruptcy,” and people thought Trump and Putin were finished. And then the New York banks squeezed Russia just like they squeezed me, but we both came back, stronger and better and richer than ever, superpowers again.
We chatted some more at dinner that night for a few minutes or an hour or whatever, which the sick fake media pretended was bad. I can now reveal why I went over to talk with him. Putin was seated next to the First Lady, my First Lady, who actually used to be one of his citizens when it was all communist over there, he probably speaks some Slovenian, so when I looked over and saw them talking so closely, the First Lady laughing and enjoying herself like she almost never does, I realized I had a duty to go over and make sure nothing negative for America happened. But later in Hamburg, he and I had a final private moment together, and this was secret until now, just the two of us walking through the mist by the North Sea at night. I said, “Vladimir, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” but my Bogart impression wasn’t perfect, so he maybe didn’t completely get it.
THE FAKE MEDIA has been talking for days about a nothing meeting Don Junior had with some Russian lady more than a year ago, before Russia fever existed, before I was even nominated for president, and since this is a book about my presidency, quite frankly itʼs inappropriate to be talking about it here. Although for the record, even though heʼs also “Donald Trump,” the real Donald Trump did not know about that meeting, wouldnʼt have gone to that meeting, and if I had, wouldnʼt have switched my story about it twice in three days and put out my own e-mails that made me look bad—if I even used e-mails, which I donʼt, and this proves once and for all Iʼve always been very, very right about that.
Speaking of cyber, that Silicon Valley ninja who broke into the White House on Barronʼs birthday just pleaded guilty on the same day that Hawaiian judge with the white last name, Watson, which is the same as the biggest supercomputer, ruled against us again on the travel ban. And the Chinese all of a sudden decide to build their computer factory in Wisconsin. And Xi is calling me all the time telling me to calm down about North Korea. Something really is going on with the Orientals.
FINALLY GOT THE MOOCH HIRED! Heʼll fix our communications—so, Management 101 and Marketing 101. “The president has really good karma,” he announced on his first day, and “heʼs genuinely a wonderful human being.” Gotta love the Mooch!
THE MOOCH DIDNʼT WORK OUT, and because he never officially worked in the White House—thatʼs 100 percent true, you can look it up—he wasnʼt actually fired, so no harm no foul. Plus, I made him famous, just like I made Reince and Spicer and Omarosa famous, all so famous. I think theyʼre grateful. They should be.
CAN YOU BELIEVE that nobody wrote about how great we’ve done at the end of the first two hundred days? All the important legislation we passed, the most ever, not counting repeal and replace, which the Republicans couldnʼt get done, they let a guy with a terrible brain problem vote it down, McCain, Jesus, loser, disgraceful. And donʼt forget all the jobs we created, the most ever, keeping the illegals out, the highest stock market ever, no war, so amazing, so successful. Not a word. Fake media.
IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME, HERE’S THE TRUTH
I have to admit I enjoyed telling Jared he was reporting to General Kelly from now on. I was even okay with Kellyannouncing on his first day as chief of staff that the president has 100 percent confidence in Jeff Sessions and General McMaster, because what does that even really mean? Itʼs not like a contract. I can fire them both right this second if that 100 percent confidence all of a sudden drops to zero percent.
But Iʼm actually sick of my generals, of all people, trying to make me look weaker, Mattis and McMaster and now Kelly, and also Tillerson, who was like a five-star business general. They say I canʼt rip up the terrible Iran nuclear deal, I have to sign the terrible Russian sanctions bill that ties my hands on making a great deal, I have to slow down on getting the transvestites out of the Army—making it like I need to ask their permission to do anything. Even tweet! Trump doesnʼt ask permission, and President Trump especially does not do May I, pretty please.
The fake media is saying now that General Kelly was so upset when I fired the crazy crooked leaker Comey that he talked about resigning.
No May I for Trump, no Trump May I—which reminds me: the Seven Days in May thing may be real, someone I trust on these things tells me, even though now itʼs August. But maybe itʼs planned for next May? Maybe that’s why they’re making me send more soldiers to Afghanistan?
If anything happens to me, hereʼs the truth, on the record, part of history.
WE’LL ALL LOOK BACK AND LAUGH ABOUT THIS
While Iʼm here in New Jersey at the Northwestern White House, owned by Trump, which many top experts in addition to Anthony tell me has the most defensible terr
ain and best weapons-system positions of any Trump property, at the old White House in Washington theyʼre replacing the air-conditioning system. While theyʼre at it Iʼm also having them install new carpeting, truly great carpeting, and paint the walls—Obama had all yellow carpets and yellow walls, which I frankly find disgusting. Reminds me of that Menʼs Wearhouse, Sy Syms tan suit he wore.
The White House air conditioning theyʼre replacing was installed during George Bush’s first administration, back when he didnʼt have the southern accent at all, when he was fresh out of the CIA, which makes me think it may not just be “air conditioning,” if you know what I mean. I think you know what I mean. Barron says I should learn sign language from Internet videos, and make the people in the White House I trust learn it, Ivanka and whoever, so the bugging canʼt work. Such a brilliant kid.
The fake media is so upset about what I said on Venezuela about military options—but what they don’t know is that I had an understanding with Nick Maduro down there, concerning trade, future hospitality development, so when he welshed I had no choice but to hit back. And the fake media is even more upset about my latest tweets against North Korea. Trust me, okay, the North Korea thing will work out fine, so fine, not to worry, you canʼt imagine, weʼve got it covered, I canʼt tell you the amazing top-top-top-secret way weʼve got North Korea covered, but we do. After we win there, and after everybody knows weʼve won, talk about a “twist ending,” we’ll all look back and laugh about it. I canʼt wait.
For the record, what Bannon said about North Korea wasn’t why I let General Kelly can him, and it wasn’t because Jared is scared of him, either. I still think Steve is my Tom Hagen, and originally Godfather III was supposed to be all about Michael Corleone and Tom becoming enemies—spooky, right? Speaking of spooky, I’m hungry all the time and have to pee constantly, which might mean I have diabetes, which would be another thing I have in common with Michael.
CALL HIM FLIPPER
Since I became president, I’ve sometimes hummed “Hail to the Chief” in bed at night, to relax and fall asleep. But now if I don’t do it I can’t sleep at all, but as soon as I start, the theme song to Flipper starts running through my head, competing with it, and with a laugh track of mean laughter, like the devil in this cartoon I saw that scared me so much when I was little. I hum “Hail to the Chief” louder but the Flipper song gets louder, too, and every time in the song they sing “They call him Flipper, Flipper!” I see Jared’s face or Paul Manafort’s or Mike Flynn’s. I don’t see Steve Bannon’s face, but I’m not sure if that means I can trust him more. It’s like a nightmare, but worse, because I can’t wake up, because I’m already awake.
IT’S A CRAZY WORLD
They say it’s almost fall, and the calendar on my phone says September, but to be perfectly honest I have a very strong belief it’s still summer, I have a hunch somebody screwed up with daylight saving time, made it happen too early and is now covering it up; Wilbur Ross in the Commerce Department is looking into that. Because I think it was just this week that Ivanka was crying, telling me I couldn’t say what I wanted to say at the big African American convention, the N-word double-A battery double-dip double-stuffed for colored people, on the double—their convention is in the summer in Baltimore, I know that, that’s how I memorized it, because the blacks love the summer. My speech was about jobs, all the jobs I’m going to create, so many fantastic jobs, unemployment so low we’ll need to put children and elderly people to work, unemployment down to zero, I wanted to say to the blacks, “Work will set you free! Work will set you free!”—make it a new Trump chant, like “Lock her up! Lock her up!” but positive, like “America First,” and I said to my team when they got so upset, “Hey, I’m a very strong believer in hard work, I don’t know German, I don’t know ‘Free Fatty Arbuckle’ or whatever you say it is in German,” I never knew German, only my dad’s “Sieg ist mein” and a few others, but very, very few of the African Americans would know the concentration camp slogan anyway, I’m sure, because I didn’t.
Although if Ivanka hadnʼt stopped me from giving that speech, then afterward, during those fights between the protesters in Charlottesville, both sides, definitely both sides, the fake media would have brought that up to say that Trump is a “Nazi.” So Ivanka does have the Trump seeing-the-future superpower. Sheʼs got the super genes.
By the way, the leader in Charlottesville who likes Trump so much, Duke, the Duke of Hazzard with the plastic surgery, I have never met or spoken to him in my life. I donʼt think my father knew him either.
Speaking of Charlottesville and my father, he always said you have to realize the blacks are pissed off, permanently pissed off, even when theyʼre acting nice, which is also why he sometimes told me I was “acting like a spoiled little N-word,” except back then you could say the real word even if you werenʼt black. He said what people didnʼt realize is the welfare and the free apartments and all the rest made them even angrier, which is why they started rioting in the sixties, because although the handouts make liberals feel better, like theyʼre making up for slavery, the handouts are actually just continuing slavery, and it costs more—so lose-lose.
I took a lifeguard test in Queens one summer. Phil Adamo was the head lifeguard, and Phil told me how sometimes you need to smack the drowning man or he’ll bring you both down. So sometimes people in trouble, not just black people, I’m not racist, I’m the least racist person, they need a good smack to bring them back to self-respect. That’s Management 101, 102, 103, 104.
Anthony wasnʼt on duty during the Charlottesville weekend. Why?
I didn’t need Merkel telling me the “Nazis” in Charlottesville were “repulsive” and “evil,” or the CEOs, so ungrateful, and then my own top generals, the real ones, who run the Army and Navy, all five of them grandstanding about “Nazis” and “racists” to make me look bad—and doing it on social media, copying Trump! So weak.
Something is definitely going on.
BEST THING ABOUT THE SUMMER WAS NO SNL.
BEST THING ABOUT THE SUMMER was no SNL, which is a show that I made successful after it was completely failing, and should have been canceled twenty-five years ago, but wasn’t, because Lorne Michaels, who’s a Canadian immigrant, maybe legal, maybe not, so ungrateful, must have terrible dirt on the executives at RCA and General Electric and Comcast. And I have a great sense of humor, but the hater Alec “Phone Message” Baldwin is so bad at playing me, like he’s doing Aldo Ray or somebody. He and his brothers were like the Bowery Boys of Long Island, famous losers, all big mouths and no balls, although the young one, Stephen, is good people. Before he went “born again,” I’m told he was like the David Bowie of Massapequa, grade A pervert, although that’s true of many of the born-agains before they become “born again.”
But my point is, the entire media, entertainment, the movies, even some of the telephone systems, the news, all of them always take such a terrible tone concerning President Trump, like all of them are pretending to be my father—almost all of them—saying I’m no good even though I’m actually not a bad person, so the hatred, such hatred, so much hatred, I hate the hatred, the constant hits, the anti-Trump, the viciousness and venom are like a disgusting epidemic. And the betrayal. So much betrayal of Trump, so many terrible people. As the Filipino people say in Tag-along, “Mahirap mamatay ang masamang damo,” meaning, “The weeds are difficult to kill.” But eventually you do kill them, and then it’s beautiful and perfect, like all my golf courses, not a single weed on the greens or even the fairways.
I said I wouldn’t brag anymore. But no golfer until now, ever in the history of this country, has ever shot eighteen straight holes in one. So unfair and sad we haven’t been able to talk about it. And I don’t just mean “sad” in the Twitter way. After Ivanka said I had to keep that score secret until I was out of office, when we release the taxes, I actually sobbed, first time since before I was a grown-up.
Why d
on’t they ever say, “Wow, he’s totally prevented nuclear, almost a year as president and no nuclear at all!” I talk the nuclear card, maybe that’s what got us victory, all options, all options on the table, you always have to have all options, but in the meantime I haven’t used it, haven’t played the card. Will I ever go to war? I hope not, maybe not, I don’t think so, probably not, could happen, not soon, but look, I don’t want to answer, I can’t answer, because national security but also they shouldn’t know, the war enemies, ISIS, Venezuela, Korea, Hawaii, so I don’t want to say I won’t or I will, which has been one of the problems with our country— I don’t want anyone to know what Trump is thinking, which they have ways of doing, very scary, actually they think they have ways of doing but we now have major, major scientific ways of preventing it in all of the White Houses, I can tell you that—from what I understand, my brilliant uncle at MIT, the great engineer John Trump, was one of the inventors of that. So we’ll give him a medal in 2018.