By Martin H. Levinson

November 19, 1863

Eighty-seven years ago—a time before my Trump Buffalo Steaks, Trump Bowie knives, and Trump Anti-Aging Elixir became famous household names—some outstanding Americans established on this continent a new nation that contained many great ideas like liberty, slavery, and the belief that all men are created more or less equal depending on their financial worth, race, and ability to have lots of people cheer them at political rallies.

Now we are in the middle of a huge civil war, with very fine people on both sides, testing whether our nation, or any nation that gets fake news from the failing New York Times and the lowlifes over at Harper’s Weekly and The Liberator, can survive. We are standing on an incredible battlefield of that war, and before we relax and sit down I want to dedicate part of that field to be a final resting place for those unbelievable warriors who gave their lives that a nation more than 150 years later might elect a president who will know more about ISIS than the generals do, more about science than the scientists do, more about the economy than the Federal Reserve does, and be a very stable genius. It is completely fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate—we cannot constipate—we cannot duplicate this ground—although, trust me, a casino constructed on the crest of the hill where Pickett made his disastrous charge or a lodge erected by the Peach Orchard are very doable projects, particularly if you put leased convicts on the job and don’t hire union workers. But those places will never be built because the wonderful men, living and dead, who struggled here, have deregulated these grounds, so it’s not gonna happen.

Speaking of not happening, I’ve heard from some very smart people that the world will take little note or remember what we say here, which wouldn’t have been the case if Samuel B. Morse had taken my advice and devised 140-character telegraph messages that people could sign up to get and read in the comfort of their own homes. But he didn’t do that because he is a low-energy person and frankly not the best inventor around.

I have many, many friends who are telling me that the world will never forget what these remarkable men did here. And a lot people are saying that it is for us the living (which excludes people like Sleepy George McClellan, Little Jefferson Davis, and Crooked Andrew Johnson) to do the unfinished work which the fantastic soldiers who fought here have so beautifully advanced, and which I continue to beautifully advance despite the disgraceful efforts of a dishonest whistleblower in the State Department who is telling Congress I withheld aid to a foreign government to get information to use against a weak political rival. I am also dealing with a group of nasty clowns in my intelligence agencies who are contradicting what I am telling the country about the war. And don’t get me started on my pathetic niece Mary Grump, whose phony tell-all book about my family and me is just one more proof that women shouldn’t get the vote.

Those who follow me on Western Union know that we have enormous tasks remaining before us, like keeping Confederate monuments from being torn down, getting a wall put up on the Mexican border, and making America great again. But today we need to concentrate on honoring these fabulous soldiers, who should be honored like no other soldiers have ever been honored before, because many of these fearless fighters died here, which means they will never get to stay at the newly-built, state-of-the-art Trump International Guesthouse, an outstanding luxury inn just minutes by carriage from the White House and Union Station, featuring special-rates on the weekend and early bird dinners during the week and, best of all, the place is within easy walking distance of Ford’s Theater and every major attraction in Washington DC.

To sum it all up in a word, I was obviously a good candidate. I won every debate. I won everything I did and I won easily, which is why I can confidently say that we need to make sure that these dead shall not have died in vain and that this nation—under God, the poorly educated, and whatever czar is running Russia—will make much better trade deals now that I’m president, and that government of the people (I’m referring here to the top one percent of the people), by the people (that is the Second Amendment people), and for the people (in plain English, those people who vote for me), shall not perish from the earth because perishing is bad for your health and to be perfectly honest most people think the alternative is a whole lot better.