(Editor’s Note: President Trump has agreed to periodically answer fabricated fawning letters from his supporters. Salon will publish the letters and his answers completely unaltered, which seemed like a good idea at the time.)
My wife and I recently had our first child. You are obviously a remarkable father. Any advice you can pass along? — Gunter G., Skokie, Illinois
Sure. You need to be patient. Really patient. Like you wouldn’t believe. So, wait until the kid turns 4, then every day, every day, when you come home from work, have him (or her) brought to you, washed, and spend a solid 15 minutes talking about your day. Before that, they have absolutely no attention span. Waste of time. That’s why you need to be patient. Four years. Hey, I just realizes that’s the same length as my first term. Huh.... Remember, being a parent is the toughest thing you’ll ever do, if you let it be.
Did you hear that? — Derek B., Ann Arbor
Yes, I did. You bet I did. I don’t miss anything, but sometimes, I don’t miss it that much faster than anyone else. And I didn’t just hear that. I’m hearing a lot of things. You have no idea. Let me be more specific. You have absolutely no idea what I’m hearing.
Now, let me say, excuse me, let me say, I don’t know if my hearing is better than anyone else’s. The last time I went for a hearing test, I thought I did great. Here’s the thing. Everybody thinks they did great on the hearing test. Of course they do. Because they don’t see the, the, the whoozits, the technician, they don’t see the technician on the other side of the glass moving the knobs. You know about the knobs, don’t you?
So yes, I heard that. And I’m pretty sure you didn’t. Otherwise, why would you ask me?
I know you don’t like to give away your plans, but is there anything in agenda for the first 100 days about bringing the McRib back? — Jared F., Littleton, Colorado
You’re right, I don’t give anything away. It’s called leverage. But I have a couple of generals working on some things, and I think you’re going to be very very pleased. Very pleased. Very pleased. Another thing we just gave away because three losers in Minnesota have a problem with red dye and repurposed pork. I’ve said too much. I’ll say one more thing. Very pleased.
Do you think being extraordinarily smart is a gift, or a privilege? — Donna R., Warren, Ohio
This is a phenomenal question which I feel I may be the only person alive equipped to answer. Here’s the problem. I would be the only one who understood the answer. And that’s the problem. So, I would say it’s a gift and a privilege. But mostly, it’s a burden, waiting for people to catch up. And they never do.
I’ll wait …
Last Tuesday, I was at the Starbucks in Trump Tower (which is fabulous, by the way). I ordered a skinny caramel macchiato with whipped cream and when they asked my name, as a joke, I said, “Gandhi.” Now, I’m at Rikers awaiting trial for making a terrorist threat. I have no problem with that, but I never got my drink and yet they charged me. Should I sue? — Gary W., 81st Street
Absolutely. Without a doubt. But when you do go to trial, if I’m the DA, or the lawyer for Starbucks, my first question would be, “What kind of a man, what kind of MAN, orders a skinny caramel macchiato with whipped cream?”
What is the one character defect you absolutely cannot tolerate in another person? — Pauline P., Newport Beach
OK, this is assuming I am intolerant, which if you know anything about me, or even if you don’t and just ask a stranger, is not part of my makeup. Better yet, instead of a stranger, ask my makeup people. I think there’s one, Crystal, who hasn’t signed a confidentiality agreement. But you’d need to get to Crystal quickly. It’s her last day.
One character defect ... one character defect ... one character defect ... I’d say if I had to pick one — shortness. Shortness. Being short. Can’t stand it. I mean, I don’t even want to think about it. You ever see this guy Michael Bloomberg? What cake did he fall off of?
Nothing comes close to shortness. What, I have to bend down to talk to you? What is that? You know this guy who’s on "Meet the Press"? Todd? Todd Chuckman? That’s what I call him. Give me a break. Seriously. You see this guy? Has to cuff his underpants. David Feherty gave me that. You know why I never go on that show? Forget it, I’ve said too much. But it has to do with the Yellow Pages ...
If you could have dinner with any three people from history, who would they be? — Guy F., Flavortown
I think it’s easier to say who I wouldn’t have dinner with. I wouldn’t have dinner with Jesus, because that’s who everybody says they want to have dinner with, so really, how memorable would that be? Also, not crazy about fish. And not Martin Luther King because, well, it’s enough already. I would say Abe Lincoln, Honest Abe, but that’s just like having dinner with myself. So, I’m going to go with myself at 30, Leroy Neiman because he would just sit there and paint me, and Kim Basinger, but not as herself, as whatever that character was she played in “9 ½ Weeks.”
Will you continue to go to Palm Beach every weekend even during hurricane season? That seems awfully brave. — Britanny S., Crawfordsville, Indiana
You know what? Forget Kim Basinger, because she would just wind up going home with 30-year-old me. So, make it Jack Nicklaus.