Ivanka has just sent in this exclusive personal account of last week’s White House meeting of the President’s inner circle.
“Mr. President,” pronounced Reince, “I believe it’s time we started plotting your longer-term path to Presidential greatness.”
“There’s no need for that because I’m already on it,” affirmed Dad. “Once the Supreme Court upholds my Muslim immigration policy and the Senate takes Obamacare off life support, my greatness is just a wall away.”
“Attaining Presidential greatness takes more than mere achievements,” opined Kellyanne. “It’s rather about inspiring a nation to tear down walls without stopping to consider if they’ve got anywhere else to live.”
“On the contrary,” argued Dad, “greatness comes from inspiring people to build things that change the world and the Great Trump Wall of America will guarantee not only the future of the U.S. but South America as well by preventing everyone leaving and coming up here.”
“And another thing,” added Kellyanne, “you’ll never have a shot at greatness while Comey and Mueller are shit-canning you all the time.”
“I’m going to fix them,” promised Dad, “by persuading Putin to drop over and testify before a Senate committee that it’s ludicrous to believe that Russia colluded with me to influence the election because he’s in love with Hillary and wanted her to win.”
“Isn’t that putting our relationship with Russia at risk?” I asked.
“No,” replied Dad, “there’s very little chance that Bill will get jealous.”
“Look, Dad,” I said sternly, “the only path to greatness for you lies through stepping back and taking a deep breath; no ranting, threats, and definitely no tweets.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier,” asked Dad, “if I just appointed myself headmaster of the Electoral College?”
“Then after a month of meditation,” I continued, “you will emerge to endorse the Paris Accord, hang a ‘Muslims Welcome’ sign outside the White House and launch Trumpcare which will be hailed as a huge improvement on Obamacare especially for people who don’t need medical attention.”
“Is that all?” asked Dad hopefully.
“No,” I replied firmly. “I’ll maintain your momentum by getting Malcolm Turnbull to come over and do his awful impressions of you while you’re away meditating and you can delegate the North Korea problem to Dennis Rodman.”
“Can I comment now?” asked Dad.
“And then,” I persisted, “you’ll reassign Mueller as the special prosecutor to investigate Comey instead of you, just to show you’re still the top dog.”
“Woof,” commented Mad Dog. “Woof woof woof.”