Vol. 3: Trump’s Last Words
While the world awaits Donald Trump’s next act, it’s not too soon to think about his final act. The man is 76, after all, and addicted to Big Macs and French fries. Trump’s last words, like the rest of his oeuvre, will require the services of a ghostwriter. I submit these suggestions in lieu of a personal interview.
It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done. And since everything I’ve done up to now has been great, this will be really terrific, frankly.
I would rather be a servant in the house of the Lord than dwell in the house of the mighty. Fortunately, I enjoy other housing options. I can dwell at Mar-a-Lago. Or Trump Tower. Or one of my golf clubs. That’s the benefit of being really smart.
Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do, because they’re suckers and losers. Frankly, they don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I do.
Let us cross the river and rest in the shade of the trees— because the trees on the other side are bigger and shadier. They’re huge! I know, because I planted them all around my casino. I didn’t plant them personally, but I provided jobs to hundreds of gardeners. The casino was imploded last week, but the trees are still there, unless the crooked bankruptcy judge removed them. That’s why I want to cross the river—to find out who stole my trees.
With charity toward none, with malice toward all, let us bomb the hell out of those crooks in Georgia, Pennsylvania, Michigan, Wisconsin, Nevada, and Arizona who stole my election.
There is no limit to what a man can achieve if he doesn’t mind who gets the credit. Take me, for example. Has the Fake News ever given me credit for all the great things I’ve done?
Adieu, mes amis! Je vais à la gloire! I’ll bet you didn’t know I speak Spanish. There are lots of things about me that you probably don’t know. I’m really smart— I went to Wharton!
I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country. On second thought, I’ve never done anything wrong, so what’s to regret?
What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? That’s loser talk. I gained the whole world without losing anything. Winners can have it all!
The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice. That’s why I stacked the courts with friendly judges. Did I mention that I’m smart?
We've got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And he’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land. And it’s a great, great location for my next golf club. The view is incredible.
To the tune of “My Way”:
And now, the end is near, And so I face the final curtain. My friend, I’ll say it clear: I’m not a monk like Thomas Merton. I’ve done more deals, and spun more spiels And copped more feels than Richard Burton. And now— yes, even now— I can’t stop flirtin’.
Regrets, I’ve had a few, Like teaming up with Giuliani. I told him what to do But he was such a horse’s fanny. If I had sense, I’d tell Mike Pence To find a job as Jared’s nanny. So how’d these dopes survive? It’s just uncanny.
But now I have no fear As I prepare to meet my maker. My strategy is clear: When God concludes that I’m a faker I needn’t yell or go to Hell Just ’cause God labeled me a baddie. That’s what he thinks; I’ll cite my shrinks And blame my Daddy!