If Melania Had Helped Donald Write His Speech

Last night, Donald Trump gave a speech describing a nation in ruins that only he could fix.  It had such an authoritarian vibe that Gary Kasparov, the world chess champion born in the Soviet Union, wrote: “I’ve heard this sort of speech a lot in the last 15 years and trust me, it doesn’t sound any better in Russian.”  Here’s a draft written by Donald’s current wife, Melania, which may have been rejected for being too concise.

“Tonight I want to talk to you on a subject of deep concern to all Americans and to many people all parts of the world–immigration.  The American people cannot and should not be asked to support something that involves the overriding issues of white America unless they know the truth about that policy.  There are immigrants in the United States.  Barack Obama let them in.  And Hillary would let them stay and invite more.  Sure, some may be good, like my beautiful wife, Melania, and Ivana, mother of my hot daughter, Ivanka.  But most aren’t.  Most of them aren’t models.  Most of them are the bad ones–the rapists and murderers.  Let historians not record that when America was the most powerful nation in the world we passed on the other side of the road and allowed the last hopes for an immigration-free country to be suffocated by the forces of political correctness and Hillary Clinton.  And so tonight–to you, the great silent majority of my fellow Americans–I ask for you support.  I pledge to end immigration in a way that will make America great again.  I will initiate a plan of action that will enable me to keep that pledge.  I will build a wall.  The best wall.  Better than the Great Wall of China.  By the way, China has been stealing our jobs.  But not when I’m president.

This once-great Nation will endure as it has endured, will revive and will prosper, but only if you elect me.  Let me assert my belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself — fear and also immigrants, minorities, terrorists, thugs, Barack Obama, and Hillary Clinton.  In every dark hour of our national life all that we need is the understanding and support of the people for Donald Trump, which is essential to victory.  I am convinced that you will again give that support to me in these critical days.

My fellow Americans, those of you born in this country, ask not what your country can do for you, ask what Donald Trump can do for you.  And let me tell you.  I’ll help you.  Bigly.

There is no cause for pride in what has happened in Dallas or in Baton Rouge or in Nice, though I did predict it.  But there is cause for hope and for faith in me in what is happening here tonight.  For the cries of pain and the hymns and protests of oppressed real Americans have summoned into convocation all the majesty of this great convention–the convention of the greatest political party on earth.  Our mission is at once the oldest and the most basic of this country–to exclude immigrants and terrorists.  Our lives have been marked with debate about great issues, issues of war and peace, issues of prosperity and depression.  But rarely in any time does an issue lay bare the secret heart of America itself.  Rarely are we met with a challenge to the very existence of our beloved nation, a challenge only I can succeed at.  There is no Southern problem.  There is no Northern problem.  There is only an American problem.  What happened in Dallas and in Baton Rouge and in Nice is part of a far larger movement that reaches into every section and state of America.  It is the effort of real Americans to secure for themselves the full blessings of American life.  It’s the real Americans who must overcome the crippling legacy of Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, and political correctness.  And we shall overcome.

I am happy to join you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.  There are those who are asking the devotees of Donald Trump, “When will you be satisfied?”  We can never be satisfied as long as the American is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of illegal immigrants.  We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, might hear a foreign language.  We cannot be satisfied as long as the immigrant’s basic mobility includes coming to America.  We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by Starbucks employees saying, “Happy Holidays.”  We cannot be satisfied as long as people can vote in Mississippi without photo ID and my children cannot vote for me in the New York primary because they didn’t change party affiliation in time.  No, no, we are not satisfied and will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream that indicts and convicts crooked Hillary Clinton.  Let us wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.  And so even though we face the difficulties of every day until I am inaugurated, I still have a dream.  It is a dream deeply rooted in David Duke’s version of the American Dream.  I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed as believed when it was written: We hold these truths to be self-evident that all white men are created equal.  I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together and not see any immigrants trying to come into this country.  I have a dream that one day the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering because of its proximity to Mexico, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.  I have a dream that my four children, I mean five, sorry Tiffany, will not be judged by the color of their skin and whether its orange or white but by the size of their bank accounts and buildings with their names on it.  I have a dream today!

No person could fail to be deeply moved by such a tribute as this nomination.  This nomination is intended primarily to honor a personality–mine.  For all eyes and for all time, this nomination is an expression of the ethics of the American voter.  That I should be integrated into politics arouses a sense of pride that will be with me always.  It also arouses me physically at times; ask Melania, she’ll tell you.  Trump, Trump, Trump: those three hallowed words reverently dictate what you ought to be, what you can be if you’re attractive enough, and what you will be if, again, you’re attractive enough.  They are your rallying points: to build courage when courage seems to fail; to regain faith when there seems to be little cause for faith; to create hope when hope becomes forlorn.  The unbelievers will say they are but words, but a surname, but a flamboyant phrase.  Every pedant, every Democrat, every cynic, every hypocrite, every troublemaker, and I am sorry to say, some others of an entirely different national origin, will try to downgrade them even to the extent of mockery and ridicule.  But these are some of the the things they do: They build buildings, the best buildings.  They mold for you future roles as custodians.  They make you strong enough to know when others are weak, and brave enough to face yourself even after you’ve been in a cold pool.  They teach you to be proud and unbending in your brilliant use of the country’s bankruptcy laws, and humble and gentle in your unverified anonymous charitable donations; not to substitute mere demand letters for lawsuits, not to seek the path of four-star comfort when five-star comfort is available; to learn to stand up in the storm and learn to laugh those who fall or are disabled; to master yourself and master others; to reach into the future but never neglect the past so we can make America great again; to be serious but never take policy seriously; to be immodest so others will remember the simplicity of true greatness.  They give you a temper, a quality of building, a vigor of the loins, a freshness of Trump Water, a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity, of an appetite for Trump Steaks over love of cheap eats.  They teach you in this way to be a real American.  I do not know the dignity of the births of those in Benghazi, but I do know the shame of their deaths.  They died questioning, complaining, with no faith due to Hillary Clinton.  Always for them: Trump, Trump Trump.  In my dreams I hear the crash of cash, the rattle of coins, the strange mournful buzz of a wire transfer.  But in the evening of my memory, I always come back to Trump Tower.  Always there echoes and re-echoes: Trump, Trump, Trump.

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