Dear Donald,

If I hear your name one more time, I’m going to run Regis into traffic.

But in all sincerity, we go way back. From my early days performing for you and all the Trump relatives in both Long Island and Florida, I think of you as family. I know that you’ve been busy, but you’ll be glad to know that I’m still breathing.

But let’s talk business. I’m all for you turning the Statue of Liberty into lofts for the Wall Street kids. Same goes for Grand Central Station. While you’re at it, I think your idea to turn the Amazon rain forest into a theme park is a dandy. If my vote counts, I say you call it Trumpland.

Why not, Don? The world is your oyster. You’re a master of marketing. It’s almost scary how you put your face on everything you own. Why, last time I played Mar-a-Lago, I couldn’t help but notice the Trump face everywhere I looked. There you were, smiling at me from the logo on the stage floor during my performance. After the show, I asked for a bottle of water at the bar and who was staring at me from the label? You, Donald. And at the end of the night I pulled back the shower curtain, and there you were in the tub with two toy ducks and your new wife.

Best,
The Other Don