Thank you to my supporters. Of all the people who can’t afford a night in the Trump Hotel and Casino™, you’re the best. I’m supposed to give a stump speech tonight. Well, guess what, I don’t stump. Losers stump, winners Trump. Put that on a shirt, Frank. Round of applause for Frank, here, he’s my assistant. If you need anything – a glass of water, a dark-skinned person removed from your line of sight – tell Frank.
I love your enthusiasm. You know what it reminds me of? Every time I bring a dog back to the pound, the other dogs are wagging their tails, they’re so excited and hopeful in their cages. They look at me the same way you guys are, "Maybe this guy will rescue me!”
I love it.
Frank, are you out there? I need you to cut off one of your hands and feed it to my supporters. Thanks, Frank. Clap for Frank, folks, if only because he can’t, ever again. Notice how I asked a male aide to self-amputate? That’s because cutting off an extremity makes you bleed, and you ladies lose enough blood every month. I see a lot of frowns out there. Well, when I’m president, Botox will be mandatory and covered by Medicare.
And they say I hate women.
By the way, the word “women” doesn’t do you ladies justice. As far as I’m concerned, there’s three kinds of women: Melanias, Marlas and Ivanas.
I’m excited to announce a tax plan that’s tailored to each of their needs and disgusting flaws. When I’m president, the Melanias will be able to deduct 100 percent of their personal trainers and smoky eyes eyeliner. When a Melania gets pregnant, instead of maternity leave, she’ll get six weeks of "tummy tuck and boob lift” leave.
Now, the Marlas … they are the worst. These are women who sleep with other women’s husbands. No morals. And most Marlas are still getting alimony and child support, so I’m not giving them another fucking dime. Excuse my French. French-Canadian. Ted Cruz is from Canada. Do you really want a French-Cuban from Canada as your president?
I got off track.
I’m really gonna help the Ivanas. Look, most of you Hillary supporters are Ivanas. But there’s good news, too. You're gonna love what President Trump is gonna do for you. If you’re an Ivana, you'll get ... a free house. A butler, a car and driver. All you have to do is recant any allegations of abuse from the 1990s. And guess who’s gonna pay for the house?
It rhymes with Sexico.
A lot of women love me. Ann Coulter loves me. She’s a woman, technically. Especially when she wears a scarf around her neck. Sarah Palin loves me. She’s definitely a woman, because what man talks like that? John Wayne’s daughter loves me, and so does Jerry Falwell’s son. In fact, most dead celebrities have at least one child that loves me. They miss their daddies. I’m their Daddy.
You know who doesn’t miss her Daddy? Megyn Kelly. I have no respect for Megyn Kelly and not just because she spells Megan wrong. Mark my words – that woman is a Melania who’s one short haircut away from being a Marla. She asks too many questions. I don’t like questions. I like answers. Like, “Yes, Mr. Trump” or “Certainly, Mr. Trump” and my favorite, “I’ll retract my statement, Mr. Trump.”
I like Hillary. I invited her to my third wedding, I’ll invite her to my fourth. Hillary is very smart, and more important, very co-dependent. You know what they say, "If you want something done, give it to someone who’s used to covering for her dirtbag husband.” That’s why, as soon as I get the nomination, I will get down on one knee and beg Hillary Clinton to be my vice president. Because I need a cleaner. I don’t mean that in the housewife way. That’s sexist. I mean it in the Harvey Keitel in Point of No Return way. I want Hillary, in a pantsuit, bringing two suitcases full of hydrochloric acid to
Camp David every time I negotiate a peace agreement. Because there will be bodies.
I wrote this speech yesterday, and someone I immediately fired pointed out that a lot of my sentences start with the letter “I.” So? As my security team led him out, this person shouted, "There’s no ‘I' in team, Mr. Trump.” Well, guess what? There’s also no “U” in win. U’re not a winner. I am.
Let’s make America great again.
Laurie Kilmartin is a staff writer for Late Night with Conan O’Brien. Twitter: @anylaurie16