I FEEL LIKE A NEW MAN

Never forget the important life lesson I mentioned earlier—how the ups don’t last long. There’s always something—as my dad used to say, a fly in the ointment, a skunk at the picnic, a turd in the punch bowl, an African American in the woodpile, some unauthorized foreign tenant hiding in the attic. He was a loyalty guy, my dad, and I’m a loyalty guy. So right after I gave Gorsuch one of the greatest jobs in America—only $244,000, but no mandatory retirement—so times forty years that’s $10 million—plus book money, speech money, probably endorsement money, summers completely off—the guy comes back to Washington, at our expense, and starts telling senators he finds my criticism of judges who let terrorists into America “disheartening” and “demoralizing.” Could you believe that? He even did it on the same day the judges at the worst appeals court went against us—judges out west, where he’s from, by the way. I was very, very disappointed. Majorly disappointed. In fact, I went back to our vetting file on Neil and thought about putting a certain very interesting item into a tweet. But then I decided against it. Because I’m a nice guy, and Justice Gorsuch is our guy, and I wanted the win for America. Although now he knows I know about that interesting item from 1988. So we’re good, I’m sure we’re good.

KELLYANNE SAYS that since I’d spent two entire weeks as president, all at the White House, it was okay to head down to Florida for the weekend. Headed there now. I’m in Air Force One’s Oval Office. Which is tight, and not an oval, but at least it now has a new large-screen TV with a fantastic remote control, state of the art. Soon I’ll be at my Mar-a-Lago, getting the tan back up where it belongs, surrounded by my hundreds of longtime loyal members, all my longtime loyal employees—although I’m going to have Rodrigo start flying back and forth, to be a steward at both White Houses, the old one and the fantastic Southern one. With his Philippines background, it seems like he’d be a perfect fit down there, with the palm trees and the ocean and the Spanish and the heat, and all the constant lawn care.

And tomorrow, instead of sitting down to some meeting at 9 a.m., with everybody trying to show how serious and smart they are, I’ll be teeing off at Trump International Golf Club, which has twenty-seven holes, no two alike and the highest elevation of any course in the State of Florida, a fantastic course, where I’ve won the club championship three times so far. I own the club, which is only twenty minutes away from the Southern White House, which I also own. Which I mention because it means that, in addition to being a perfect place for any American to hold weddings and corporate meetings and experience the Trump lifestyle, Trump International will be a perfect venue for making great trade and world peace deals with visiting world leaders—deals that benefit you, the forgotten Americans. Win-win-win.

Also, I’m very much looking forward to spending the weekend with my beautiful wife and our top-notch son for the first time in weeks, which will be great, since I miss them both very much, of course. The First Lady has not been to the White House since the inauguration, partly because she has been working hard preparing a new lawsuit against the terrible English newspaper that printed horrible, vicious, disgusting, very untrue lies about how she earned her living when she was younger—lies that have harmed her unique, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, as an extremely famous and well-known person, to launch a broad-based commercial brand in multiple product categories, including apparel, shoes, jewelry, timepieces, cosmetics, hair and skin care, fragrance, body scrubs and muds, financial services, dairy substitutes, antifungals, major appliances, auto repair, and sandwich bags, each of which could have garnered multimillion-dollar business relationships for a multiyear term in which she will be one of the most photographed women in the world. But despite all of that, as well as her time-consuming primary custodial responsibility for our fantastic son, my wife will be joining me at the White House for a great event in eleven days, as First Lady. After that, she’ll probably spend at least one night at the Executive Mansion every nine to eleven days through the first and second quarters, as the mood strikes her.

Saturday I got to spend five hours on the course. Turns out, when you’re president, the trip from Mar-a-Lago across the bridge on Southern Boulevard to Trump International is only fifteen minutes. Shot a sixty-seven, five under par, which I must honestly tell you is an incredible score, an unbelievable score. I feel like a new man. “You mean ‘incredible’ and ‘unbelievable’ like ‘not true’?” my youngest son asked when I got home to Mar-a-Lago. He wasn’t smiling, so I don’t think he was making fun of me.