№ 639: Donald's Self-Assessment

FANTASY LAND (July 15)

I could sell ANYTHING better than Bezos,

sing sweeter than Pavarotti.

My words are better than William Shakespeare's.

(And my fans are less snotty.)

I could paint better than Pablo Picasso.

(If I bothered to do that.)

I could do a kids' book more entertaining

than Dr. Seuss' The Cat In The Hat.

I could run a three minute mile.

I could pose naked for Playboy.

I could throw fastballs. Or touchdown passes.

And, if I chose to, I could birth babies.

I could write better lyrics than Porter.
Or Hart. Or Lin-Manuel Miranda.

I could fake the news better than Jim Acosta

I could teach Mafia bosses how to make pasta.

I could show my friend Kim a thing or two.

(Instruct him how to go bankrupt.)

I could teach Gypsy Rose Lee the ease of strip tease.

I could show Vesuvius how to erupt.

I could out-general Zhukov or Rommel.

I could out-land Aldrin and Armstrong.

I could out-model my wife, Melanie:

pasties on nipples, my schlong in a thong!

I am, I confess, always the best.

I out-race RuPaul in drag.

But you won't  — EVER!  —  hear me say that.

Because I never brag.