Why did I care so much about the totally wrong and fake crowd estimates? I didn't care for myself, I'm used to that, I've had 30 years of that kind of rude treatment by the vicious media. What I really cared about, as Kellyanne explained to me, were the feelings of the millions of people who traveled from all over America and stood for hours to experience the most sacred moment of their lives. I was angry, as Bannon explained to me, on behalf of the forgotten men and women the elite media wanted to keep forgotten, to erase from the historical record with their Big Lie. Reince said we could maybe create a federal Office of Crowd Size Measurement in the Commerce Department, because they're already in charge of the atomic clock that controls time. Which, by the way, I'm pretty sure my brilliant MIT engineer uncle, Dr. John Trump, invented.

In the limo this morning on the way out to the CIA, Kellyanne gave me a neck rub, the way Ivanka used to love doing when she was little, and then I felt even better when I delivered a great speech to the staff there. They gave me several amazing standing ovations. But then afterward, on the way out, somebody told me CIA headquarters is now officially called the George Bush Center for Intelligence. At first I thought that was some kind of Washington insider joke, but it turns out they mean the old Bush, Grandpa Bush, who it turns out ran the CIA for a year. Which suddenly made me put two and two together and realize why all the intelligence big shots are against me, since I destroyed Jeb Bush, knocked him out of the race a week after the first primary, even though he spent $150 million against me. It's why Billy Bush secretly taped me a decade ago. It's Hillary and Obama and the media and intelligence and the Bushes all in a giant circle jerk, and I'm tied down on the ground in the middle, and it's disgusting. But when Reince and Kellyanne both looked at me funny, I realized I'd said all that out loud. But I didn't apologize, or refer to it, just looked straight ahead. Which is Leadership 101. "You know," I said, "we're already halfway to Trump National." That's my luxurious world-class club in Virginia, two beautiful courses. "We can stop in McLean for Big Macs, Oreo McFlurries, whatever you guys want, on me."

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My actual private living area in the White House is much, much smaller than I'm used to — 20,000 square feet, which I know sounds big, but my penthouse in Trump Tower is 30,000, OK? The entire White House, including all the servant barracks or whatever that I haven't even seen yet, is half as big as Mar-a-Lago. The Oval Office is very special, great branding, iconic. Nice high ceiling. But I literally have bigger bathrooms in my homes. At least they've already put up the new gold drapes I picked in the Oval, which look so much more strong and sophisticated than the cheap red ones Obama had in there. Everybody tells me I can't be the first president to install a TV in the Oval. "Why can't I?" I said when we first walked in on Friday. "The American people would love me for it. We could hang a pair of small screens, 30 inches, 40 inches, either side of the big window there, behind the desk, where those paintings are. TVs are just the better, modern version of paintings, right?"

Call me sentimental, but it makes me sad that I'll never own the White House. I've been told that my sons Donald Junior and Eric, who now operate our company independently, offered to pay $430 million in cash for the entire White House complex. It would be an unofficial property in the award-winning Trump Hotel Collection™. All of which was not my sons' idea originally, by the way, although they realize it's brilliant. We — by that I mean The Trump Organization, which I do not currently control at all — had an amazing guy in Kyrgyzstan, great country, totally ready to make the purchase loan, but the deal was too sophisticated for the government lawyers and bean counters to understand.

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