My fellow Americans:
There comes a time in every great man's life when he must dedicate his true exceptionalness to the people he has worked so hard to pay minimum wage. Which is why I am now ready to announce my candidacy to be your new heart surgeon.
I am not some professional medical doctor. I am a businessman. I have made and lost and made and lost and made and lost and made and borrowed millions of dollars. I have named buildings after myself, and I have yelled loudly "You're fired!" on my own reality TV show. This is why I am qualified to cut open your chest and do stuff related to valves and arteries, and in which I am fairly certain there is blood involved. And I promise you: As my hair shines like the mane on a regal, radiated, dying lion--none of my nurses will be from the Philippines. They will all wear the pasty hue of a man who has spent most of his adult life having El Salvadoran grandmothers apply sunscreen on his hairy back.
Also, I declare to you--the people of this great nation--that I will now also become the star forward for the Utah Jazz, a position that clearly calls for the ability to raid pensions and smolder at cameras while shaking bassets-hound like jowls.
You are tired of Washington playing the State of the Union during Dancing with the Stars. You are tired of Washington saying, "Hey! You have the right to afford a hernia operation. You have the right to complain about that weird black goo coming out of your water faucet." I tell you now: when I am your unlicensed plumber, I will put that goo where it belongs: In your drinking glass. It came from your faucet. It is yours! And I will crawl backwards on the fat ass of my personal sweater folder before I let Washington deny you the black goo that you earned.
America, I say enough! Enough hand holding and whining and simpering over "climate change." Our forefathers didn't complain about the lack of central heating at Valley Forge. Our forefathers never went on and on about being "sensitive" to the needs of people who made the lifestyle choice not to be rich white men. Which is why I will give up the last dying breath of the last hired Mexican gardener in my Florida mansion before I let anyone tell me I cannot be your most beloved and amazing computer scientist. Two words America: Hardware. Software. Circuit Board. The Internet. iPhone. Apps.
Leaders are not born. Leaders are forged in great big vats of oil and money and things that cost a lot of money and that you can't find in your hippie, dippy Science. Evolution bad. God! The flag! No taxes!
America: You deserve hope. You deserve tomorrow. Say yes: Say Trump! Welcome. I will be piloting your 757 to Detroit.