Dear The Donald,

I am working two jobs, in order to support two kids and a husband who has trouble keeping a job because of a bad back, a weak stomach, a poor attitude towards authority, and a drinking problem.
I don’t mind the work, nor the hours, and it is my pleasure to cook for and feed my family, do their laundry, shop, and clean up after each one of my charges. Sometimes, I wish that one of the kids would mow the yard, or that hubby would volunteer to take out the garbage when the bag isn’t too heavy, but I like going to bed with a clean conscience, if maybe not so clean a husband.
But I have recently learned that he is spending large amounts of money on internet porno sites, putting us further in debt so he can indulge in what I consider disgusting and degrading filth, and I am no prude.
Please, give me some advice, Mr. Trump. We cannot afford counseling, and he won’t quit watching the crap on his own. I am at the point of considering a divorce, if only I can find a sympathetic judge who will award him with custody of the ungrateful brats.

at wit’s end

Attn: Wit’s end
Re: bad attitude

It’s YOU who has the bad attitude, Ms. Whiny-lady, spewing self-pity and …whatever, from every orifice. Sex is beatiful, but only with beautiful people! I bet you haven’t seen the inside of a gym lately, either, if you know what I mean. But maybe you don’t, so here it is, you are probably fat, bitchy during your period, and have fits, maybe sometimes you are a good wife, too. But being a good wife sometimes isn’t enough, you have to be a hottie; is that so hard? Not for my wife it isn’t, God Bless her, but she is a total woman who takes the time to put on make-up, get her hair done, work out with her personal trainer, and get plastic surgery, unlike some I am writing to at the moment.

The Donald

Dear Mr Trump,

I know you prefer the other salutation,. but The Donald sounds like something a 2-year old would say. I’m a man, you’re a man, I’d rather converse on that basis.
Anyway, I wanted to ask about your evolved positions on several topics, especially those that would have eventually eroded your support with the GOP base. It seems pretty convenient for you to suddenly realize that Hilary wasn’t a good Secretary of State, abortion is bad, and so is a national health Insurance plan. Also, are you still clinging to the myth that Obama was not born in the US?

Skeptical but interested

Dear skeptic

You’re the terrible-2 year old, sonny, with your childish questions, questions I will not answer. Instead I will answer this question, how many multi-million dollar deals, deals I do every day while I nap, have you done? None! So why am I even talking to you? I bet you’re not even a man, but some woman with an agenda and hormone problems.
Becoming the President is just another deal to me, OK? And you negotiate a deal, give-and-take, I negotiated, and I’m going to win, because I can Deal! I am a deal artisan, I wrote the book!

The Donald

Dear the Donald,

In spite of your incorrect statements, I think you are pretty smart and would make a fine president.
Now, here is my problem.
My wife is obsessed with you, she has bought seven copies of The Art of the Deal at book signing appearances of yours, and has spent a fortune to get pictures of her standing next to you; they line the walls of her Donald-room, formerly our den. She has had her hair done like yours, although no one could match it exactly. She calls out your name when we are making love. Could you say or do something that would bring her down to Earth, back to reality, back to me?

Trumped by Trump
My dear T’ed by T

I don’t make incorrect statements. And, as for your ‘problem’, sorry, I cannot remember your wife from countless others; I sign a lot of books, and have my picture taken with millions of women. Yes, I said millions, and that’s a fact! BTW,you did not include a pic of Wifey, who sounds like she would make a good personal intern, if she can keep her emotions under control, all month long, if you know what I mean.

The Donald (the The is Always capita;ized, cretin, I hold the rights.!)

{Ask The Donald appears weekly in thousand of newspapers and other media outlets, millions have been helped with my advice. It is the best advice column ever, because I am a dealer, and I know people; and I am smarter than you, that’s a fact}


Jimmy Buffett Fesses Up!!

I got rich writing about my bad habits
indulged in my wild Caribbean days
Taking body shots off of well-endowed strippers
And snorting cocaine off a supermodel’s legs

But there was a good reason for my escape into dreams,
by using rum, happy pills, and pot
Because if you choose a life of sobriety
You’ll see that Paradise, this place is not!

What jerk calls a place Paradise,
where capital crime is always on the rise?
where biting insects grow to an incredible size?
It’s not my idea of Paradise

I made it all sound so romantic,
Singing’ ’bout smugglers, pretty ladies, and pirates back then
But they’re crooks and criminals, schemers and con men.
Why do you think I wised up, and moved to Aspen!

Why visit more than one island?
every one is just more of the same
beggars, crazy cabbies, and cheap crap made in Japan,
And a too-hot climate that is unfit for man!

It never was a paradise
Columbus didn’t treat the locals very nice
now they like to steal from visiting gals and guys
Go visit the Greek isles, is my advice

I would rather stay in a local motel,
swim in the pool, avoid the airlines’ fee-Hell
order up a pizza, get a six-pack of beer
Screw the Antilles, I’m happier here!


{Many have raised questions about our use of drones to take out enemies of America, but none have been so vocal as the targets themselves, at least for a time…}


Oh what a bitch!
it just isn’t fair
like rabbits plucked by a hawk from the ground
death comes by air!
They sent in the drones

Fight like a man!
you’ve nothing to lose
if you are nowhere that you can be found
How can we behead you
stop sending the drones
We can’t fight the drones

Just when we thought that the country was ours
and so was the money made from the opium flowers
No one would stop us, no one would dare
we fired our guns
up in the air

I’ve got shards up my arse,
Thanks to a drone, I can’t hear
But I can tell by the fear in Abu’s eyes
Again, a drone’s here
It took out Amir
Crap! That makes me leader!*

(Judy, Judy Collins, Judy, please forgive me the liberties I have taken with your work)

IN YA PUDDIN’ FACE! Robert Burns advice to the love and other-lorn

Hail Robert
I have told those kids, time and time again, to stay out of my lawn, it's not a damned
Shortcut! I tell you, kids today got no respect.
King of a beleaguered castle
Mae dear king,
 Wi' n'er brickbat nor cudgel wad I nae be laith to chase the lads,
Th'aim o' it ta make their footsteps thro the ivy t' be da last!
Hey, Mate
 We Aussies love your column! Fair dinkum, mate, and greetins to ya from the
 Antipodes! Some workmates and I are on Holiday, and our waltzing matildas will
 be dancing your way later this summer. We'd like to hoist a brew with you, 
 throw some haggis and shrimp on the ol' barbie, do a spot of Hands-across-the-
Empire bonding over some of your fine local spirits, right, mate? 
What do you say, mate?
Wallaby Will
 I'm a nae your mate, convict! We got rid of your loutish nae-so great grand Mas
 and Pas, f'reason, we dint want yer 'round! G'wan ain butcher the language wit'
 yer gutturals an' grunts whar ye weer sent, I'll nae waste t'least of mah
 whiskeys on yer thieving palate!

Hail, Robert

Wha's reason enter 'n th'desire for ma' cocks, and hens, aiven, 
 ta cross the road, laden wi' peril as 'tis?
             Earnestly Puzzled


m'Dear Earnest,
Far, far t'other shoulder wad be dar makin,
'crosit the fiery, hot middy pavins
t'whar yon fatter worms mayhap sate dar  cravin's



Dude! It's me and baby-Mama's 1st aniverssary, and she wants me to write her
 a pome like I did when I was courting her. Trouble is, I stole poultry off
 line, I can't write for doodoo. Could you take pity on me and pen me a pome,
 an orginal?
Disparate in Bostin
Mae dear D in B,
All's fair'n love'n war, e'en deceit, 'n order t'keep tha fair maid's heart, nae?
een a gadda da Vida, mae honae, dain deny mae love fer ye
een a gadda da vida, mae darlin' dain yer know tha true i be?
Aye, lass, cam wit' me, n tak mae hand, dear
Aye, wan ye wak wit' mae, thro this Promised land 'ere?


{ I hereby absolve Ray davies and the Kinks of any blame for the following parody}

Everywhere I go, the stories' the same
I see brown-skinned men with funny names 
Yelling Cholo, Ese, 'migo, hermano.

Instead of becoming like us, we are becoming them
Eating Tacos and beans, and drinking Coronas
Instead of Miller Lite, Double-eckies and Coronas

Now, I'm not the world's most prejudiced guy,
but why can't you guys just say "HI!"
instead of "Hola", say "Hello", not Hola.

Illegals are thieves, so they say
They steal our jobs during the day,
Rob our homes in the night
I heard all they do is breed, fuss, and fight

Well, you might think I'm an insensitive jerk,
Because on job sites I see Illegals doing the work
instead of locals, they give jobs to cholos

Some people ask What's all the fuss?
they go to church, just like us
They work hard to take care of their families
They are American already in their hearts and deeds

Well, I'm not the world's most knowledgeable guy,
But I know how Americans tell me 'Hi', and it ain't Hola
H-o-l-a, Hola, Awchay-o-ellay-Hola


Entitled girl,
She’s been living in a different world,
Where she doesn’t even have to try
Against a field of incompetent guys

Why did we count on an entitled girl
Who’s a stranger to the everyday world
Where normal people don’t pay their way
With the money despots and PACs donate,
Or so they say

But she is learning
That we are not blind,
And we want honesty
No cover-up this time

But she’s not hearing us
And that’s because
She feels like an entitled girl
She’s getting money from all over the world
She doesn’t think any scandal’s a factor
They only serve to mildly distract her
Ethics don’t matter

So, Hilary, why
Don’t you step aside, let another try
To beat the GOP while we have a chance
We need a different date for this dance
It’s not the pants


Where have you been, our favorite son?
What have you been up to, our new Congressman?

I’ve been to the land of bright smiling faces
Where the winner’s whomever the most money raises
I’ve been where the best lies told are the big ones
where the opportunistic meet the generals and chairmen

Have you managed to keep true to your ideals
And not gotten involved in suspicious deals?
And have you stood up to institutional evil
committed by men to whom it comes natural to steal?

When the House whip cracks, I must heed the call
To get anything done, I have to play some ball
Yes, to temptation it’s hard, so hard, so very hard
It’s too ha-aarrd, not to fall

We understand son, you can only do so much
at least you haven’t become drugged or adulterous

But the pressure I’m under entitles me to a mistress
and coca-based breaks thanks to Big Corporate interests
Who want tax relief and an end to costly court actions
filed by gadflies on behalf of their comatose grandsons

Okay, we get it, power corrupts
still, we expected you to resist it, not lap it up

I’ve been working in white buildings built by the black man
In a place that’s become an amoral swampland
I wish I had time to dedicate the veterans’ new outpost
But I’m on a fact-finding tour about waxing Brazilian

We elected you to start getting good things done
to root out the thieves and the dishonest, not to become one

But I like rubbing shoulders with the rich and the pretty
body shots off a stripper make it all seem somewhat less shitty
to live like a king while others mourn the death of their cities
I party while my aides write a speech full of pity

I know I’m not creating a legacy that’s stellar
my grandkids may keep my portrait in the cellar
but it’s hard, so hard, to keep my hands
off the public’s tax dollars


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