DJT: You know, doc, I don’t really like coming here. I surely don’t want anyone, including Melania, to think that I need a psychiatrist. I don’t trust anyone, as you know, but doc, I need help. I’ve got to talk to someone.

Doc: Well, Mr. President, given our professional relationship—which comes with its own confidentiality and intimacy—may I call you Don?

DJT: Oh, of course, doc! Just don’t call me late for dinner! Especially if we’re having McDonald’s. To hell with what Bobby has to say about ultra-processed foods! It’s kept me alive for decades... well, except for my several medical conditions that I would never tell the public or anyone about.

Doc: Okay, Don. How can I help you?

DJT: Do you have a full day to talk, doc? The list is long.

Doc: I’ll take as much time with you as it takes—you’re the President.

DJT: That’s what I like to hear! The proper respect for me in the office of the most powerful man in the world. Yes, music to my ears. It’s so appropriate that I be President. I was born to be the star here, but honestly, it’s too much responsibility. It’s all good except for having to answer to the American people. They’re pretty stupid, the lot of them—a lot like sheep, yet very demanding. I’ve got other things taking up my time, like international deals, planning the resort in Gaza, getting my name on the Kennedy Center, and my golf game.

Okay, doc, you asked for it. Let me start with the fact that I start every day sick to my stomach. I have done some pretty bad, stupid things in my life, and I’ve gotten away with pretty much all of them. A few rapes and affairs to pay off with some hush money—a few million here, a few million there—but that’s about it. Nobody has a clue about most of my really bad stuff except my old buddy Roy Cohn, who’s not with us anymore, and Jeffrey, who’s not with us anymore either.

Many of these things go back decades and were business stunts I learned from my father and Roy. They were bad, and I hurt a lot of people—I mean a lot. Screwed them in different ways in business just to prove my superiority.

But that’s old news—everyone knows that I’m “the power guy.” Many know what Roy taught me: never admit wrongdoing, double down, blame and insult others, and position yourself as the victim seeking support as the ‘injured party.’ It works like a dream. I’ve become a master. It’s part of my DNA now, along with the racism I inherited from my father. It’s in the blood, doc!

What’s bothering me every day, doc—why I have this pain in my stomach every morning—are a few things, mainly the Epstein Files. I know what I did, to whom, and pretty much when I did it. I’d be screwed if these all came out in public. My Christian MAGA supporters would have to abandon me—it’s that bad.

As if you don’t know, I’m a womanizer—and of all ages. The law doesn’t apply to me like it applies to others. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth and was taught that I was above the law. I’ve lived my life that way ever since. I’m just an elitist snob narcissist, doc! I really don’t care much about others except how they can help me get richer, more powerful, or bring me some nice girls. No news to anyone.

This is why my name is mentioned so many times. Usually, I like my name mentioned a lot, but not in this case. I’m not embarrassed, just scared.

The thought that these files might be made public makes me crazy because I’ll be finished. With all my ability to manipulate, insult others, and con my way out of things as I’ve been doing all my life, even I couldn’t get myself out of that hole.

So I feel desperate, doc. I have to do anything to keep that from happening. That’s why I’m doing everything I can to control and manipulate the midterms. I’ve scared the public into thinking there’s fraud everywhere. But funny enough, fraud everywhere except when it came to my being elected! And nobody mentions this! A bunch of sheep, doc, it’s scary. So many Americans are so stupid, they believe there’s a serious problem just because I said there is. Crazy!

They even forget what I said at the very beginning after coming down the escalator. I said that I had no interest in being President, that I was running as a publicity stunt to promote my brand. I knew nothing about government, the Constitution, law, foreign policy, or the inner workings of government—nothing—and I barely do now. I just wanted free publicity and airtime. For me, it was a joke. But everyone took me seriously, and look what happened. I guess I could say a small joke became a bigger joke... they elected me. And then, even as a convicted felon, they elected me again! My MAGA cult is really fantastic.

Doc: My God, how you deceived the American people and intimidated all those in your party, Don. How do you feel about that?

DJT: It’s like rolling off a log for me, doc. Nothing matters except what I told you—that I try to match Elon’s wealth and that my name is everywhere for history and posterity.

Doc: But about the Epstein Files, Don—because I know that is central to what is bothering you—when you were running, didn’t you promise the American people, and most importantly your MAGA supporters, that you would disclose them in full and that your administration would be fully transparent?

DJT: To hell with what I said! To them or to anyone else. I just said that to get votes—you should know that. I’ll say anything to anyone, and I do. I lie through my teeth every day.

The funny thing is, the ignorant American people and Wall Street believe me! Almost everything I say is to promote myself, make myself look good, defeat and ridicule others, and stand out better than a peacock. Truth is flexible. Whoever challenges me is promoting fake news, and I let them know it. As President, you just have to say it, and it sticks.

Remember, I’m the guy who said he could walk down 5th Avenue and shoot someone, and nothing would happen to me. I’m the guy who told people who might be old to vote for me before they die—I’ll say anything, doc! And I have. Do you know how many times I’ve said that we have a deal with Iran to end the war, and I just made it up? But the stock market shot up! I do it so my stocks have more value, doc! And so Wall Street thinks I’m a big shot. I’m actually shocked that anyone, including the media, takes anything I say seriously. It’s unbelievable—they don’t learn. I’ve said so many times that they’re stupid, and I’m right.

But now, because of this Epstein thing, and the Democrats gaining in the polls while I’m losing power, I’m really in trouble. They’re going to impeach me again, and this time, I think I’ll be convicted. Either way, I’ll lose power; they’ll leverage it against me and subpoena the files, and I’m finished.

Why do you think I let Bibi talk me into starting this stupid war with Iran, and why I dismissed everything every one of my advisors and generals told me to do? I wanted to distract the people from the Epstein Files. Do you really think I thought Iran was a threat to us? Hell no! To Bibi? Well, a little. But in general, everything was peaceful until I barged in. And the Obama deal wasn’t half bad—it’s looking real good right about now. I just hate Obama and want to do whatever I can to destroy his legacy and put my name on everything. Everything, doc!

We needed another war like a hole in the head, but wars are great to distract people. However, I had no idea what good fighters they were. I knew nothing about them. They’re beating us badly, doc, and there’s no good exit except surrendering to their demands. Now they’re stronger than ever before. I really blew this and underestimated what I was getting into. Hegseth is a pain in the ass and doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s loyal, but stupid. Congress is going to impeach him, and I’ll just let it happen. I demand loyalty from others, but give it to no one.

But some of those dastardly Dems won’t let the files go. Even some of the MAGA Republicans. That’s how I know I’m losing my manipulative effect. If people don’t believe the BS, I’m finished.

Doc: This is a sad state of affairs, Don. The prognosis is not looking good for you.

DJT: The American people won’t know the difference—generally, they think whatever I do is great. They don’t think; they just laugh and clap... they ought to have their heads examined. It’s pretty pathetic.

I have a limited amount of time in office, doc, and I have to use it to get richer, more powerful, and friendlier with the billionaires. I also need the time for my vanity projects: arches, monuments, Mt. Everest, the Kennedy Center. And I need time to use the DOJ to go after my enemies. I’m just a nasty son of a bitch! My niece is completely right about me. I think only of myself all the time.

The sad thing, doc, is I tell everyone that I’m the best of the best, the best President of all time, but what have I really done for the American people? Squat. Only for the rich. I’m destroying the environment, decimating the rule of law, rewriting history “my way,” and the Constitution? What a joke. It’s old and irrelevant. My vow to uphold it means nothing, and the Supreme Court—my buddies, most of them, I should say—lets me get away quite literally with murder. Look at all who have died during the ICE raids, including normal Americans, and it all goes by the wayside.

But really, doc, I’m afraid to say it, but I’m really just a real estate guy, bone-spur Don, with strong mafia leanings from NY, just like my dad. I’m just using being President to make myself look good and get as rich as I can. Those who know me have known this all along. And it looks like I’m taking the country down with me, just like I did with many of my businesses. That bothers me a little bit, it’s true. But I’ll be out of there and flying on my new jet everywhere. It’ll be hard for them to find me.

Should I care? I don’t have that much longer to last, wolfing down McDonald’s as often as I do. I’m paying a heavy emotional price right now for all of my lying and mocking others, which is why I wanted to talk with you.

Doc: I understand, Don. It must be really hard to be you. I can’t imagine it. If I can be honest, I wouldn’t want to imagine it either! Such burdens, and quite honestly, so many bad choices. But we can work on that and help you with them.

DJT: Thanks, doc, but I’m really over my head now with the war, the sinking economy, and soaring oil prices with no end in sight. Other world leaders don’t like me or want to talk with me; they just tolerate me because they have to—I’m the head of the greatest, most powerful nation on Earth. They have no choice, but knowing that doesn’t really feel good. I’ve hit them all with tariffs; I weaponized them. I put them on, took them off, put them back on, and upon cutting deals, took them back off—at least a little.

China and Russia are dumping our bonds like there’s no tomorrow. Our economy is collapsing from the inside, and I’m futzing around with buying diesel from Putin as though that’s going to do anything. I’m at my wit’s end.

I think I’ve done too much damage to be redeemed, doc. The farmers are angry; I’ve betrayed them. They’re paying so much for diesel, and I just care about monuments in my name, the East Wing, and my next golf game. I like being President for the fun parts—dealing with my billionaire buds, making deals, acting like a big shot—but I don’t really like being President for the American people. I think most of them are pretty stupid.

I don’t really want to have to deal with them and all of the tornadoes, natural disasters, and complaints about food and oil prices. Too many complaints—it’s too much. I just want to hang out with Natalie, talk to the heads of state that will still talk to me like Putin, and be done with the rest.

Help me, doc. I don’t know what I should do next to get myself out of this hellhole. And the Dems are about to make a clean sweep around the country because I’ve screwed up so much. Obviously, I don’t admit this to anyone but you, even though honest people tell me that all the time—which is why I call what they say fake news.

Doc: What’s your deepest fear, Don?

DJT: That I’m not good enough, doc. That’s why I want my name on everything. I want big monuments everywhere bearing my name—Mt. Everest, you name it. I’m a sick man, doc. I don’t know if I should be in a mental hospital or a prison. Maybe we should come up with a new institution that combines both! I’ll be the first patient/inmate. As you know, I like being the first in everything—yeah, even that!

I want to be loved by everyone, doc. You see, my father was a tough guy. He was mean, demanding, and nothing could satisfy him. He was basically part of the mafia, or sure acted that way.

I did what I could to please him, but it didn’t work. It gave me a complex, doc, and I’ve never overcome it. I started to believe that I wasn’t good enough, so I figured that if my name was everywhere, and if I had to cheat and steal to get to the top, I justified it all. I’d prove my worth through bigly recognition.

I defy court orders—who are the judges anyway? I am the President! They’re just judges—they’re there to serve my wishes. It’s a sick world, doc. I just want to see oil flow, as we’ve done so much insider trading that I’ll be rivaling my old buddy Musk in the T’s instead of the B’s soon enough. What the hell? I can do anything. Unless the Dems win, and then I’m screwed. I have to do everything to stop them: lie, cheat, and steal, the things I’m best at.

I call them Communists. I’ll bring in the military, maybe even declare martial law—I don’t know. People will give me hell, and that’s not good, just like they did with Jan. 6. People who know me know damn well that I set that up—I wanted Pence’s head on a platter for betraying me, sort of like in The Godfather, one of my favorite movies.

I want everyone to be loyal to me, but I’m loyal only to myself. Look at what I just did to poor Zelensky—I hung him out to dry. I changed U.S. foreign policy in a phone call with my buddy Putin. Zelensky is a bad President anyway. Who cares?

Look, doc, I’m an old man now and a sick man. My deepest fear is that I’m going to deep-six everything I touch, just as I did with almost all of my businesses, but now my ‘business’ is the U.S. government. I’m not even a good businessman, although I’ve done okay in real estate. Everything else folded, and I scammed people left and right. Look at that university! The airlines, the casinos, the steak! This time I’m doing it to the American people. I spend money like a drunken sailor, but who cares? It’s not my money! When you’re given 400 million dollars as a young man, you can afford to make lots of mistakes. And I did. And the blue-collar workers across the country thought that I felt their pain! I’ve been screwing them in my businesses as best I could for years.

Bond prices are soaring, China and Russia are dumping them, the BRICS nations are getting stronger and richer by the day, the dollar is losing value, inflation is high, the Fed can’t be controlled, interest rates are climbing, and people are paying through the nose not just for diesel, but for a loaf of bread. The global economy is shaken because of what I’ve done in the Middle East and the Strait of Hormuz chokepoint, and now the same is happening with the Houthis in the Red Sea. Everyone’s mad at me, MAGA is turning on me... doc, I may have a lot more money now, but I’m sick to my stomach and screwed!

I’ve turned the world upside down and into one of my failed businesses. Talk about stupid. It’s hard to say, doc, but I’m at the bottom.

How can you help me, doc? I really need it. The billions I’ve made, both under and over the table, the Qatari jet that I’m planning to take for myself by saying it’s for my library—everything is not worth the anxiety I am now suffering based on so many nasty, mean, crude, insulting words I’ve spoken and actions I’ve taken. They’re too many to count, doc. In this one term alone! I’ve hurt so many people, including Melania. The only person who really likes me is Natalie, so I keep her near me. I don’t care how it looks—I do it.

Doc: I’m not sure where to start, Don. I feel like I want to go back to the prenatal period, when your father was whispering “nasty nothings” into your mother’s ear and you thought he was talking about you.

DJT: Oh, come on, doc! We don’t have time to go back that far—I’ll be dead by then. Let’s stay in the present and project into the future when I’m as rich as Elon or richer, my name is on the biggest buildings in the world, I have two Nobel Prizes, everyone both fears and loves me, and young, beautiful blondes like the ones I keep hiring for my administration chase me down and can’t keep their hands off me.

Oh, doc... that’s not going to happen. My ship is sinking. In reality, despite my dreams of narcissistic grandeur, I’ve made a mess of things. My own wife won’t even hold my hand. I have a really dark side. I’ve duped the American people; I’ve sold them down the river. I should feel worse about it than I actually do, which really concerns me, too. I don’t respect them, and I don’t like them—probably because they like me, bought my cheap tricks, and voted for me. Talk about self-loathing underneath the narcissism!

I told them that I would reduce the prices of food, gas, and rent, and instead, they all went up. I mocked the idea of affordability. I promised no more wars, and I’ve been insanely aggressive all over the world. Now I’m screwed in Iran—I should never have listened to Bibi, or to myself for that matter.

I didn’t fulfill any of my campaign promises to the American People, none. But I did fulfill the campaign promise to my billionaire buddies, which is “the Big Beautiful Bill”, which took healthcare money from the American People and gave it instead to my buddies, and of course, myself. I even tried to charge $100,000 per month for confidential information to sell to anyone who would pay for it to give them an inside tip on what’s happening inside government to help them with stock trading, “insider information”. How low is low doc? I’m a mess. I see that I would do anything for money, recognition and power. I’ll hurt anyone, I’ll threaten anyone. It’s all just a blowhard bunch of nonsense. I’m just a fake, and people take me seriously. I don’t take myself seriously, but they do. Just crazy.

I just bought a tiny amount of diesel from Putin, which is just a publicity stunt, and the people know it. They have caught me in the act! And I stabbed Zelensky in the back, changing foreign policy in one phone call with my buddy Putin, whom I so admire. And the money I’m paying him, he’ll use to sell drones to Iran, who will use them against us! Can I really be that stupid, doc?

And it’s not just me; it’s the entire MAGA Republican Party. They were running ads not in Portland, Maine, but in Portland, Oregon for Susan Collins... how stupid can they get? They let me get away with hell. Before MAGA, the Republican Party was a decent party. I didn’t agree with them, which is why I was a Democrat most of my life and voted Democrat every time. But to win, I had to become a Republican, and I did. If I had to become Jewish, I would have done that, too. That’s the way I am—a chameleon. I change with the wind. I’m just transactional, and will do anything for a buck.

I’ve knocked out almost every scientific agency in the government. We can hardly track the weather, let alone Global Warming. I’ve rewritten history so that only white men did anything worth mentioning. And slavery just wasn’t so damn bad—it’s so exaggerated.

I told the audience in Iowa just the other day, doc, that gas prices were $1.85/gallon. I just made that up. They’re more than double that. I don’t know if they believe me anymore. I think they’ve got my number, doc. My poll numbers are the worst of any President in recent history. Yet, I tell them that I’m the greatest.

I heard Ken Paxton doesn’t want me to campaign for him. This is getting ugly. I’ve gutted almost every scientific agency in government, including the EPA. I handed over the entire renewable energy sector to the Chinese on a silver platter because I called Global Warming a hoax. Yet, some of my best friends who are in the oil industry are also in the solar and wind industries on a large scale. I’m screwed, doc!

Doc: Don, I think it’s best if you claim that you have a serious medical condition—which you do—and resign while you can. Look, Reagan claimed he couldn’t remember anything when it came to his deeds in Nicaragua, and people believed the old fella. You can do the same thing. It’s just called “dementia,” and you’ll walk away scot-free.

The Cabinet is giving consideration to the 25th Amendment, and Democrats are going to impeach you again—or at least prosecute you after you’re out of office. You’ll be found guilty and convicted. Or, lastly, the people of this country will say to you what you’ve said to so many: “Donald, you’re fired!”

So Don, your best choice at this point to save what little face you have left—well, if any—is to step into the crowd quietly, resign, disappear, and hope that nobody chases you down when the Epstein Files are fully released. I know they’re haunting you, and no doubt will for the rest of your life. As will the Democrats.

There are so many other violations of law you have committed that the criminal record will be long. You’ve hurt so many. The American people will wake up and see what a deceptive liar you have been and that every campaign promise you made, you broke. You’ve taken away their healthcare, taken away school lunches from poor, hungry children, destroyed NPR and the free press in this country, compromised institutions of higher learning, and disrupted the lives of countless immigrant families living honest lives, paying taxes, and harvesting our food. Your administration has overseen sending innocent people to countries they’ve never heard of. You’ve spent billions on your vanity projects, disrupted global and domestic economies, and treated the White House like your own personal cash register after destroying half of it without authority to do so—the People’s house! The damage and harm you have done is inexpressible and will have negative effects on the world and America for decades.

Don, all of this is coming back to haunt you for the rest of your years. No amount of money will protect you from the suffering you are undergoing now and will continue to undergo.

So I’m glad you came to me, so I can help you face the horrors you’ve created—and the blowback will be severe—without backing off or sugarcoating them. No, this relationship is to bring you soberly to reality, to pop your narcissistic bubble. It’s painful, I know, but absolutely necessary.

Don, even with all of your material wealth, your future does not look bright. Step down while you can. That’s my final advice to you. And while stepping down, be sure to pay the American people back every cent you stole from them.

DJT: Doc, I think you’re right. I should have come to you a long time ago, and I might have saved myself a lot of stomach pain and trouble.

Doc: In short, Don: fire yourself before they fire you, and declare nationwide, “Donald, you’re fired!”