IS JARED A FREDO?

Someone who’s no longer so young herself asked me today at Camp David in her “cute” accent if turning seventy-one on Wednesday is what made me “right away do these two mornings of the tweets that only make everything bad and worse.” And the answer is no, the president has no choice but to keep communicating the truth.

Because, like I said, the fake news media really does hate when I go around them and use my very powerful social media to tell more than one hundred million people, Trump’s troops, that this is the greatest witch hunt in American history and the Judas who told me to fire the FBI director is investigating me for firing the FBI director, and his pathetic little mouse of a boss won’t stop him. And people don’t even know that crooked Hillary and her family and staff have all kinds of dealings with Russia and that she destroyed her cell phones with a hammer like a crazy person and obstructed justice with Obama’s attorney general.

That’s what I tweeted the last couple of days. And no, I do not need to change my supplements and vitamins.

Camp David? Even worse than I imagined. The one Saturday night was plenty. It’s the kind of place your friends’ parents had in the Poconos, the kind of place you get rich or become president to avoid spending weekends. One pathetic golf hole, not even full size, a hundred yards and a green, hole in one, hole in one, hole in one, no fucking fun at all, pardon my French. They do have a Camp David gift shop, good for them, it’s called the Shangri-la, but virtually no Trump merchandise.

MITZI: Presidential to-do list

Song, “HOLE IN ONE, HOLE IN ONE, HOLE IN ONE / NO F-STAR-STAR-STAR-STAR-STAR-STAR FUN / SHANGRI-LA,” © 2017 by Donald J. Trump.

I ALWAYS KNEW PEOPLE LIKE SPICER AND REINCE wouldn’t be permanent. I knew it for sure with Reince a month before my landslide victory, after the fake media released the unauthorized Access Hollywood tape, and Reince said I should drop out of the race. Weak. At our first full cabinet meeting in June, where we went around the table and each of them explained how I was making them make America great again, and Reincey said, “We thank you for the opportunity and the blessing to serve your agenda,” it was actually pathetic, so desperate to keep his job. Literally on the way out of that meeting I asked Kelly again if heʼd take over. Although to be fair, Reince was useful because from his reactions to things I always knew how the hypocrites and weaklings in Washington were going to react to the things Trump does.

Unlike Jared. Jared pushed me to trust Mike Flynn. He was sure the Democrats would be happy to see Comey fired. He thought it was okay to raise money in China for his family’s real estate business by using the President Trump brand. He tried to get my White House counsel to give him a public Good Housekeeping seal of approval on the Russia thing. He wouldn’t stop trying to get me to surrender to our enemies on the horrible Paris climate deal and to get rid of Bannon—especially now that Steve had his people push out the news about Jaredʼs Soros deal, which I didnʼt know was going to happen in advance, as I told Ivanka, because if I had known I wouldnʼt have smiled when I saw it in Breitbart. “Jared,” I finally told him, “only Ivanka can fire you, and I’m not firing Steve.” Although I might, but not because Jared hates him.

Jared reminds me of President Macaroon, and Iʼll bet thirty years from now Ivanka will be as great-looking as Mrs. Macaroon, who I had great, great chemistry with in Paris—I mean, whoa, sixty-four, truly unbelievable, almost as old as my first wife. Except unlike Macaroon, Jared wouldn’t have pulled the stunt with the handshake. Jared doesn’t have much of a handshake. In fact, is Jared a Fredo? I’m starting to worry he’s a Fredo who thinks he’s a Michael.