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Gut Check: The Trump Speech Donald Trump Should Make (to Me)

Look, thanks for coming on short notice. Have a seat. Not there. That’s marble.

Over there. Yep. Thanks.  Joe –get these people some water. The good kind.

I’d get you some snacks, but this won’t take long and you could stand to lose some weight.

So, let’s make this clear: I’m not like the other people running. I think we’ve all figured that out. I’m different – and that can be good, and bad. But – I think, mostly good.

But let’s get the bad out of the way:

Even I amaze myself at my own idiocy. Seriously, I can be a first class asshole.  But here’s why… so can you.

We’re all assholes. I’ve just decided to do it in public, while you do it – mostly – at home. You, Gutfeld – are an asshole, too. Admit it, as you write this very sentence. You. Are. An. Asshole. I’ve met you and your wife. I honestly do not know how she puts up with you. She’s a great gal. Fabulous. What she’s doing with you, an aging dwarf – astounds me. Seriously, have her call me.

I kid. But not really.

Personally I’m miffed by people like Gutfeld who seem to like Trump, but are critical of him. What did I do to you?  What’s your beef?  We had nice chats. You flew on my plane – sat behind the cockpit, it was great. And I enjoyed your late night show that no one watched. Well, I watched it. I was your prime demographic. I.e. Insomniacs.

You made me laugh, or used to. Anyway, the show has gotten better since you left. But why get into that now – we’ll talk after you’re canceled.

Look, let’s be perfectly frank here – we aren’t kidding anyone. We live in different worlds. I’m so rich I could buy your house 20 times over, and grind it up to a fine paste and pay models to snort it. But I won’t.

Because I have better things to do, and your life bores me. But my point is, I could do it, if I wanted to, but I won’t… maybe… I’m still considering it – but here’s the deal:

I’ve spent decades in business: where I come from, language is crude, careless and instantly forgotten. I grew up in the world of  big deals – deals that would make your head explode, seriously – literally explode like giant cantaloupes – filled with cherry bombs. And this is a world far, far away from campus sensitivity, media training and those weepy encounter groups called newspaper editorial meetings. My only lesson in diversity is hiring effective people – be they black, female, fat, gay, whatever. I hired an obese woman who stuttered once. And I made sure I paid her the same as an obese woman who doesn’t stutter. And by whatever, I mean nose. Just to be clear. N-O-S-E.

Am I perfect? Of course not. Over the course of the day, I’ll say things that are stupid and truly embarrassing to my family – but as for intent, there is no ill will. It’s harmless – I would like to think. I know when I screw up – I get that cold chill. But it’s not like you or me will remember it in a day or two. Something else happens in the news – that thing in Ferguson; Iran – so who cares. The great thing: people hate the media and politicians so much that they’re willing to let me slide on almost anything. I’ve picked the right enemies – which you, Gutfeld, have staked your silly marginal career on. You’ve insulted politicians and media alike, and now you’re holier than thou? Please: you’re no Pee Wee Herman.

Look, I’m an  old dog – and as you know, it’s hard to teach them new tricks – although if there is someone who could teach old dogs new tricks, it would be me. I like old dogs. Did you know you can buy 17 old dogs for the price of one new Shar Pei? But my point is, I grew up in a time where you said what you think and assumed people knew you meant no harm. Today is a different time, and it takes some getting used to, and I admit, it’s time that I get used to it. It’s like learning a new language, but with fewer words. Like that thing where you click your tongue. Christ, put on some clothes already – it’s the 21st century.

I admit – it’s time for me to think a little longer before I say something, and maybe it’s time for me to be more selective when offered opportunities to talk. Sometimes I think my mistakes are due to just over-exertion. It’s not an excuse, just an observation. It happens when I play too much golf. I play all day, come home, and tweet. Not a good idea. I wake up, and I’m like, “Who tweeted that.” But my point is: we’ve all been there. Especially you, Gutfeld. You really need help – if I may be honest. You’re like a little bird in a big sky.  A big sky I own.

I know I have to watch my words. Because people steal them. Like when Amy Schumer stole my line about border-crossing Mexican rapists by saying it first. Did I sue? No, because I knew suing Amy would be bad. Or it’s like the McCain thing – I knew it was bad the moment I said it, which is why I tried to correct it, by calling him a hero four times. Four times. I was sweating. But yeah, that was a careless joke – and I wish I hadn’t said it. But it’s not like it hurt me, because no one really likes McCain. So there. Again, pick the right targets. See, I’m not apologizing for the things I’m saying, only admitting that at times I color outside the lines, and do my best to correct it when it happens.

Back to me being an asshole: it’s part of the arrangement we made.

It’s the package deal: if you want someone real and honest, you’re gonna get the entire package – warts and all. I’m not interested in taking cues from consultants, or making small talk, or listening to you, period. I just don’t give a flying fuck. I’m like an email from your uncle in Florida: all-caps, angry, and right. If you listened to your Uncle, we wouldn’t be in this mess, Gutfeld.

People think I’m paying websites to write positive things about me. Please. I don’t need to pay anyone anything. They’re doing it because they want to. They need to. It fulfills a deep desire to be liked by a star. And it’s nice to be part of something big and new – and it’s neat when a celebrity like myself retweets you or pays the slightest bit of attention to you. Although I do admit it’s a little weird to have so many aging men as my fan base – I’d prefer more ladies – but that’s the cult of personality. Politically, I’m more threatened by Caitlyn Jenner or Miley than by Jeb Bush or Hilary Clinton.

So yes, celebrity helps me. If I weren’t a celebrity, I’d just be another genius selling real estate beneath a nest of  hair. So I am benefiting from it – but also hurt by it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told how great I am by men with bad breath – when, really, I know a little helpful criticism and a Tic Tac might make me a better person. Thank God for Gutfeld – my little midget of morality.

Finally (because it’s been great, but I have a phoner with Steve or that other guy) I will say this: I actually think my critics are really fine people. I’ve disagreed with their approaches– and denigrated them, impulsively at times, I admit. What can I say? I’m an impulsive guy. But I mean them no harm. I’m a peaceful guy.

Which is important, as I address, right now, my most fervent supporters: I am genuinely touched by your outpourings. Those outpourings make me feel like the carpet in a bowling alley bar. A nice bowling alley. But please, such disagreements among like-minded people are not enhanced by meanness, name-calling, crude language, and threats. We’re all fighting the same fight here – even if we disagree on the little things.

We need to unify, not attack each other. And I’m learning that lesson, as we all are, now.

So there. Have a great day, EVERYONE. Even you, Gutfeld. And thanks for coming over. Hey, once I win this thing, maybe I’ll make you my Mexican ambassador. They love me down there!

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