I write the best columns. Nobody writes better columns than I do. They’re huge; they’re beautiful; everybody loves my columns. Believe me.
You already knew that. I have written about it before. Over and over and over again. But I need to repeat it, because so much has happened since the last time I wrote it. So many beautiful, beautiful things because no columnist has accomplished as much as I have in a short amount of time. Tremendous!
But enough about me. We’ll let somebody else talk about me: “Here’s what I’ll tell you about the columnist. He’s the most competitive person I’ve ever met. OK, I’ve seen this guy throw a dead spiral through a tire. I’ve seen him at Madison Square Garden with a topcoat on. He’s standing in the key and he’s hitting foul shots and swishing them, OK? He sinks 3-foot putts.” That’s what The Mooch said about me, just after I hired him. Really! You can look it up. But he forgot to call me “Dear Leader,” so I had to fire him. Sad!
Because I surround myself with the best people. Only the best people. Like I told the Boy Scouts: “I’ve known so many great people.”
You see, when you’re a columnist, you get invited to speak in front of people. A lot of people. Huge people. Record crowds of boys from age 11 to 18. So I talked to them, and I said lots of things that are relevant to teens and pre-teens.
I said, “I have to tell you our economy is doing great,” because 11-year-olds are deeply concerned about the economy.
And I said, “I promise you that you will live scouting’s adventure every single day of your life, and you will win, win, win and help people in doing so,” because they’ll have so much winning they’ll be tired of winning.
And I said, “Oh, you’re Boy Scouts, but you know life. You know life. So — look at you,” because teenage boys appreciate columnists who talk like a demented septuagenarian.
And then I pinched their cheeks.
This speech got a lot of attention. I told the Wall Street Journal, “I got a call from the head of the Boy Scouts saying it was the greatest speech that was ever made to them, and they were very thankful.” Really! You can look it up. I told the reporters that.
But then my staff admitted that was a lie. Weak! Fake news! But who wants to talk about columns when you are speaking to Boy Scouts. Am I right?
I’m too busy with other things to talk about columns. Bigly things. Like when I tweeted about a woman’s facelift. Or when I called my mansion “a real dump.” Or when I put the moves on an Irish reporter, because when you’re a star they let you do it. You can do anything.
An inept charlatan
All of this might sound like I am a deranged, sophomoric columnist. Like I am a thin-skinned megalomaniac who constantly craves attention. Like I use bluster to try and hide the fact that I am a delusional incompetent.
As I told Time magazine, “I guess I can’t be doing so badly, because I’m the columnist, and you’re not.”
It was either say that or cover my ears and say, “Nah, nah, nah, I can’t hear you.” I could have done that. But when you’re the columnist, you take the high road.
And people love my columns. They love my columns because I have the best words, and when you are a columnist you use only the best words. I know words. Like the time I tweeted, “covfefe.” Or the time I said, “Reince is a f*&@#ing paranoid schizophrenic, a paranoiac.” Oops, that was The Mooch, talking about my chief of staff. I had to fire both of them.
See, that’s how you show leadership when you hire only the best people. You fire them. And if I hire the best people and fire them, we can make columns great again.
And if we make columns great again, it won’t matter that I am an inept charlatan. After all, I’m only a columnist. It’s not like I’m president of the United States or anything.