The Secret Diary of Donald J Trump, aged 71 ¾
Bareback-Riding, Limp Shrimp-Hiding
11 April 2018
Remembering that old Negro spiritual for a week now, “If not for bad luck, I wouldn’t have no luck at all”. Or something. They TOLED me not to say nothing about Stormy. THEY MADE ME REPETE IT, LIKE, A ZILLION TIMES: I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT STORMY! So, when the Fake News asked me what I knew about the agreement with Stormy, what was I supposed to say? I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT IT, ASK COHEN THE KLUTZ! Now they’re telling me that means the non-disclosure agreement they made her sign can’t stand up! And now, Deerest Dairy, I’m worrying she will go on TV and say that I couldn’t stand up! What a pre-dicka-ment this is, in the truest sensibles of the word! I’m beating Gina hollow in the Trade Wars, I’m leading all the poles in everything, the market is booming, nobody is handsomer than me, I’m in PEEK physical-thing fitness, the envy of everybody everywhere – and now Stormy will go on TV and say I had some erectile thing. IT WAS CHEEP VIAGRA. It must have been made in Gina! American Viagra always worked! The worstest, most badly thing, is that I can see the smirk on Melania’s face already. How can the world know that? This is a crisis, Deer Dairy, that makes a few chemically-poisoned kids in Syria look like a joke. How can I MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN if people know I can’t even make my erectile thing great. I may have to start a war in the Korn-Hole-Ean Peninsulus to distract from this. Lukcly we have an aircraft-carrier in the ocean somewhere. Born under a badly sign for sure!