Dear Mr. Trump,
You’re having trouble with women voters, and I just can’t stand it. A man with your confidence, your money, your charisma should be mopping the floor with the weaker sex. You’re a prime-time TV star! You’ve owned casinos, airlines, your own line of vodka. If you didn’t invent suave, then I’m sure you at least went bankrupt trying.
But your worries are over. I’m here to help you win over the broads. Like you, I’m known for speaking the plain truth: no mincing words, no pussyfooting. And I know a bottom-feeder — sorry! — I mean a brilliant leader when I see one, so I’m going to tell you how to get those surly, squawking suffragettes down on their knees begging The Donald to Make America Great Again™. Are you with me, big guy? Let’s do this!
First off, what you’re doing right: When you refer to yourself as Donald Trump, it’s 100 percent adorable. Women love it when men talk about themselves, or their genitals, in the third person. Plus, we don’t hear your name much on the radio these days, or on television, or spewing forth from the mouths of our sweet children. So KEEP SHOUTING IT! Yay!
Also, huge props for referring to journalist Megyn Kelly as having “blood spewing from her … wherever.” Here’s a little secret: Deep down, we crave a man who dismisses our rational arguments as menstrual hysteria. We do. But listen, save some of that snark in case you wind up debating Clinton. When she yammers on about not outsourcing Middle East security to dictators blah blah blah, you just look right into the camera, purse those pretty lips of yours, and spit, “Uh-oh. Did someone forgot to take her estrogen pills this morning?” #WINNING!
Next, I want to see Big Daddy Trump come out to play. Remember that terrific interview you did with Howard Stern back in 2005 when you said you love having kids, but you “don’t do anything to take care of them” except “supply funds”? American moms really appreciate a man’s man who knows his place in the family, and recognizes his weaknesses. Nobody wants to see Donald Trump cleaning diaper cream from under his fingernails when there are Miss U.S.A. contestants out there who need personal screening, right? I know I don’t.
Speaking of beauty queens, don’t hold back on disparaging the faces of rival female candidates and male candidates’ wives. Lady voters wish commanders-in-chief would spend less time musing about ISIS and more time rating the appearance of female public figures on a scale of 1 to 10. Make no mistake: This is what we care about. You’re in a unique position to win us over because you’re surrounded by hotties, from your meow-inducing missus to your daughter Ivanka, whom you’ve said has “the best body.” (Did you “supply funds” for that rack? Well spent, sir!) You’ve said you might be dating Ivanka if she weren’t your child and, hoo-boy, I hear ya. I might be dating her if she weren’t your child, too.
Actually, in order to fully own the “beautiful” square on the election grid, would you consider announcing Kim Kardashian as your Supreme Court nominee? Think about it: She’s the female Trump; people love to hate her, and they have no idea why she has money or what she does all day. Plus Kanye could help her with the hard cases.
Finally, and just hear me out here, I feel as if you’ve strayed too far from outspoken ’90s Trump, who told New York Magazine, “Women: You have to treat them like s—.” You’ve softened, lost your edge. If you want to remind the nation that you’re your own man who doesn’t cave to public pressure, while showing women voters who’s boss, then there’s really only one outstanding choice for your running mate: Bill Cosby.
Do it. Be a man. And go get ’em, tiger.
Starshine Roshell is the author of Broad Assumptions.