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 again. Many times, so many beautiful, beautiful times. But I need to write it again for you, the American readers, because nobody does as much for the American readers as I do.
And sometimes, the readers need to re-evaluate whether your columnist is unstable, unhinged or unbalanced. You need to ask whether your columnist has the appropriate demeanor to be in this position. You need to think about whether your columnist is mentally competent and whether he can be trusted.
For example, if a columnist tells 2,000 false or misleading statements in his first year and has trouble putting together a coherent sentence, you would probably be a little worried about him. Because this is an important job, and we want to make columns great again in a major, super-classy way. And nobody is as classy as me.
Like that time I wrote that I have the most readers in history. Period. OK, that turned out to be wrong, wrong, wrong. But I have more readers than anybody. Period. Or that time I wrote that I have accomplished more than any columnist in a short period of time. That was wrong, too. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. But I will tell you this: I have accomplished more than any columnist. Believe me.
Some people have a problem with such megalomania. They call me a dotard. So I remind them that I’m the most powerful columnist. I remind them that my pen is “much bigger & more powerful” than theirs and that “my button works.” Ha, ha, get it? It’s like a penis joke. Ha, ha. Because I have the mentality of a 13-year-old boy. Ha, ha.
I learned that one in eighth grade. Most people mature out of it, but not some columnists. So when somebody challenges me, I insist that I have the biggest audience or the biggest building or the biggest button. Because I am obsessed with bigness. If I had nuclear weapons I would brag about my ability to destroy the world, but it would have nothing to do with my infantile insecurity. Believe me.
It’s like that guy who pointed out — on 9/11, after the World Trade Center towers fell — that he now had the tallest building in downtown Manhattan. I wonder whatever became of him. So now I say that I have the biggest button and mine works. Ha, ha, get it? It’s almost like I’m trying very, very, super hard to compensate for something, like a lack of vocabulary or poor syntax.
Only the best people
Like that time I was having a very, very important debate with this woman, and she said I was a puppet of a foreign leader. I said, “No puppet, no puppet, you’re the puppet.” It was either that or “I know you are, but what I’m I?” but I took the high road. I outsmarted her bigly.
You have to do that when you are a columnist. And you have to surround yourself with all the best people. Otherwise, they might later accuse you of treason and you might have to say they have lost their mind. Only the best people.
You also have to have the best words, and I have all the best words. I have covfefe. And I use that covfefe to keep people distracted.
You see, if there’s something important that is not in the best interests of the American readers, I just tweet something that distracts them. People need to be distracted so they don’t notice what is really going on. And then I can convince them that they are winning. So much winning that they get tired of the winning. And then I go play golf. That’s how we make columns great again.
We all should be interested in making columns great again, but it depends upon you, the American readers. You need to really think about whether your columnist is capable of doing such an important job, and whether he is big enough to meet the challenge.
Because, goodness knows, we would not want a small man in this position.
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