Trump’s latest project: ‘The Running Mate’

Dear viewers of America:

I mean voters. Whatever.

As you’ve probably heard, I’m about to pick a vice president. Frankly, I find the job to be kind of pathetic. Basically this person will sit around and wait for me to die, which is ridiculous, because I’ve already arranged to get my head cryogenically frozen like Ted Williams, and let’s face it, my cryogenically frozen head would be a more exciting president than all these losers sucking up to me, OK?

But here we are, and I have to tell you, the person I choose is going to make a lot of people very, very happy, believe me. I’ve interviewed people nobody even knows about. I say this because honestly I didn’t know about them, either. Somebody named Jindal ran for president? This was news to me.

Anyway, you won’t believe how happy you’re going to be when I make my announcement. Get ready to get sick and tired of being happy. You’re going to say, “Oh, Donald, please, I’m just so exhausted from all this unrelenting happiness.”

Because here’s the plan: I’m going to let you, America, choose from the remaining contestants. Or candidates. Whatever.

I should say up front that a lot of the people I called didn’t want this job, and that’s fine, because I get it. When you’re around me, all anyone’s ever going to talk about is Trump this and Trump that, and my God Trump is handsome and here comes Trump with the winning and the gorgeous wife and the success and the winning, and it takes a certain kind of low self-esteem to put up with that.

But honestly, most of these guys were no good anyway. All I’ll say is that “Bob Corker” does not even sound like somebody’s real name. It sounds like something from a porn flick. If I were running from a humiliating past, I would come up with a better name than “Bob Corker.”

I’m not saying that’s what the vetters reported to me, because that wouldn’t be right, and you have to respect people’s privacy. I’m just offering an observation.

I will say that I’m still hoping Joni Ernst might change her mind, just because she is, frankly, the first woman to ever turn me down. But like I said last week, we’re working really hard with the women, and I think we’re doing great, I really do.

You can’t pay attention to these polls that show me getting killed with women, because they’re terrible polls, really dishonest. They sample all kinds of women, not just the good-looking ones.

Also, you can’t take seriously every name you’ve been hearing. For instance, Manafort said it was important to have a military guy on the list, even though I was a captain at the military school my dad sent me to, which is why I know more about war than anybody since Sun Tzu, believe me.

So we found this retired general named Mike Flynn, who’s really unbelievable, a great patriot, except that it turns out he’s not a Republican. Which is kind of a nonstarter, because apparently there’s some arcane rule that says one of us has to be. You can’t make this stuff up, I’m telling you.

Which means I’m basically down to these guys you’ve probably seen me parading around like show dogs lately: Christie, Gingrich and Pence. I made them add Pence to the list because I was like, “You know what? He’s thin. Let’s get some diversity in here, please.”

For the last few weeks, I basically ran them through this process that was sort of like “The Voice” meets “The Apprentice,” or at least that’s how I pitched it to NBC, although if I’m honest with you, “The Apprentice” was just such a better show, because it’s ridiculous to think that you can judge somebody’s talent without seeing what they look like.

Say you hear this incredible voice, and then you turn your chair around and it’s Fiorina staring back at you, and let’s see how Blake Shelton feels about that.

So first I had all three guys perform songs from the “Hamilton” soundtrack, which is beautiful, by the way, really inspiring. Chris did a nice version of “Your Obedient Servant.” Newt sang that “Helpless, I’m so into you” bit, which frankly made me a little uncomfortable.

Then I asked all three contestants to come up with a business plan for how I might leverage my amazing brand to raise money for the government.

Chris does this thing about turning Blair House into an Atlantic City-style casino, so we can fleece all the visiting heads of state. Nice.

Newt has this whole plan about reviving the Trump Shuttle for space tourism, which I love, except that he has me taking the maiden voyage in 2017, just to demonstrate its safety, and not getting back until after the midterms. That raised a red flag for me, honestly.

Then Pence lays out this plan for a chain of Trump Family Hotels, where you don’t have to worry about running into gay couples. I tell him something like that could actually backfire, but he says, “Look at what we did in Indiana. It’s worked out great!”

Anyway, now I’m a little stuck, honestly. The New York Times asked me to give my quick impressions of the finalists this week, because even the Times loves a great unscripted drama. I described Christie as “strong,” which is true, because the man can carry three suitcases at once and balance two scalding coffees.

On Gingrich, I just said, “Newt is Newt.” Meaning there’s nobody else who knows so much. Frankly, it bores me to the brink of suicide. Really? I needed a 10-minute lecture on the three phases of the Peloponnesian War? Can we get this guy a cookie?

They asked me about Pence, and I said, “Solid as a rock.” I was talking about his head, OK? Nice guy, I guess, but seriously, I’ve got suckers at Trump University with sharper minds. And they’re not the standouts.

But look, here’s the thing: You know this is all just for show, right? I mean, nobody’s ever going to be Trump’s vice anything. It’s not like I’m going to walk down the hall so I can ask some career politician, “Can you help me sell my program?” or “Do you know the head of the Commerce Committee?” or “Is this nuclear triad some kind of endurance race?”

No, whoever runs with me is irrelevant, unless of course I win and decide to quit at some point, which I’ve threatened to do, in which case I guess you’re stuck with him.

So just tweet me your choice, and we’ll hold a big primetime rally to reveal the winner, and maybe we can sell some ads against it so I don’t have to unload Mar-a-Lago to run against Crooked Hillary. This is your campaign. And really, I couldn’t care less who my co-star is.

I mean running mate. Whatever.