Cleveland — I have been lucky enough to secure an advance copy of the speech Donald Trump is to give tonight, the final night of the GOP convention! It follows.
Hello, Cleveland! Hello, America! I’m — well, frankly, I’m a little embarrassed for you.
This got out of control, didn’t it?
Quite frankly, I did not expect to be here. This has all been a HUGE misunderstanding.
I was repeatedly reassured by EVERYONE who knew what they were talking about that there was NO WAY I could POSSIBLY win the nomination. This was good to hear, because I have literally no plans for governing (“Build a wall” and “Make Mexico pay for it!” hardly qualify as a plan), and, until a couple of weeks ago, my campaign organization consisted of me pretending to be multiple employees with names like “John Barron” and “John Miller.”
Everyone kept insisting that I could not possibly survive last summer and that I could not possibly win the nomination, and — now here I am. You were the experts, and I trusted you. I thought, “These people would not still have lucrative jobs if they could be ENTIRELY WRONG ABOUT EVERYTHING with impunity.” But you were all wrong, and now I am very frightened that no one knows how to turn this off.
I did everything you had always said would be absolutely career-ending.
I was assured that if I just made a couple of gaffes, demonstrated that I clearly had no idea what I was talking about, and was also racist, that this would be over. That, I thought, was our safe word.
But no. Here I am. I don’t know how to stop this.
I said awful things about not just one group of people but basically everyone. I said that Megyn Kelly had “blood coming out of her … wherever.” I said that Mexican immigrants were “rapists.” That was basically the first thing I said. I have said everything I can think of, and nothing has made a difference. I have won so much that now I am sick of winning.
When sheerly offensive didn’t work, I tried scary. When scary didn’t work, I tried absurd. On Cinco de Mayo, I tweeted a picture of myself with a taco bowl from Trump Tower and the caption “I love Hispanics!”
Jimmy Kimmel pointed out months ago that this was basically “The Producers,” and — it didn’t stop me, either. America, how did you not realize that my whole campaign was a joke? Did the horrible hats not do it? Did the Trump-Pence logo not clue you in?
What would do it? Would a plagiarized speech do it? Because we just tried that, but we could try it again.
There were so many things in place to stop me, and none of them worked. “The Party Decides,” I thought. “Never Trump,” I thought. I was a fool.
I used to think that America had common sense and could stop things before they got out of hand. John McCain said when endorsing me, “I still believe we have the institutions of government that would restrain someone who seeks to exceed their constitutional obligations. We have a Congress. We have the Supreme Court. We’re not Romania.” He sounded confident, but frankly, I’m not so sure. Is anyone sure?
Remember, people used to be sure that if you said things like the kind of things I say every day that you would get hounded out of public life forever! But no, in fact, it turns out that you will get the Republican nomination.
If I have learned one thing from this campaign, it is that America is much more xenophobic and racist than we wanted to think and will tolerate a much lower level of discourse than we used to hope.
This is a sad thing to discover about yourself, America. Are you as worried about this as I am?
I’ve lied, blatantly, many many times, and people have called me out on it, and I have shrugged and not apologized, and — people seem to find it refreshing.
I’m not ashamed. I never pretended to be great. My message has been consistent, throughout: Do Not Vote For Me. I am the jerk who keeps treating you like dirt. It is a lot more embarrassing for you to be seen with me than it is to be me.
I remind myself of the Internet. We once thought that people were secretly good and intelligent. And then the Internet came along and revealed what we actually click on. We thought that if given anonymity to express our thoughts, we would enter a new and lofty age of discourse. Instead we got 4chan. And me. I am Boaty McBoatface. I am the Really Terrible Option That You Can’t Imagine Anyone Would Pick Because What Would That Say About Them, And Then Everyone Does. I am why we can’t have nice things.
I thought this was clearly a joke. I guess the takeaway from this campaign season is “never make jokes.”
Now that it has become clear that this could actually happen, I have started to panic. I reportedly offered John Kasich responsibility for all domestic and foreign policy if he would be my vice president, but he said no. Now who is going to run all of our domestic and foreign policy? I clearly can’t. Have you met me? I make a big point of not reading anything, and I get all my information from the shows that are on in the background as I make ready to appear on TV. If I get elected, someone’s going to have to GOVERN this country! I wouldn’t even begin to know where to start. I thought you knew!
Now I am just a man, standing in front of a party, asking: How do I make this stop? Please, make this stop. I am not ready. America is clearly not ready.
Of course, knowing Donald Trump, he may not stick to the prepared text.