PRESIDENTIAL DATING TIPS
You’re 18 now, or 13, or probably at least 16, so you’re becoming a man, and that means it’s time for your father, Donald J. Trump, to teach you about life, and about what it means to be a Trump, and how to carry after I am gone the family reputation I have erected for you.
It might not be long until I’m gone. Seriously, Adderall is like a mystery glue that somehow keeps my heart going after doctors said it’s inexplicable I haven’t had a heart-attack yet from all the aspartame in my Diet Coke, the sludgy Big Mac sauce in my veins, and my endless, ceaseless, all-encompassing, rageful obsession with enacting revenge upon all my enemies, who are pretty much everyone I know because everyone around me is a nasty idiot who if given the chance would rig everything in the world against me, including all my businesses, my presidency, these Espionage Act charges, election fraud charges, and business fraud charges. And they’ve laughed at me, but who will be laughing when I get elected again? Me! Unless I have a heart attack because I haven’t exercised in decades. Which is why I’m writing this letter to you, Barron.
You have to understand that I set a pretty high bar of masculinity back in the 70s and 80s. It was almost like magic. I was a celebrity, I was rich, and I was best friends with Jeffrey Epstein, so I did very well with the ladies. I did so well, it was my Vietnam. Let me tell you, after I had undiagnosed syphilis go on undetected for most of my 20s slowly eating my brain, I vowed never again!
So I’ll let you in on a little secret. In my 30s I only pretended to have such amazing, beautiful women as my girlfriends because I knew I didn’t want to take the chance on getting another STD. I had a special trick. I pretended to be my own public relations guy, and I’d call up various newspapers, television news shows, and magazines to make up stories about how I couldn’t make up my mind who I’d date because so many models were begging me for a chance to be my girlfriend. And no one could tell it was me on the phone, even to this day. That’s where you got your name from. My alter ego was John Barron, a Trump PR executive. He was the best employee the Trump Organization ever had. Still to…