Second: Deep within the $300 Dell laptop that sits beneath Trump's acrylic hair, he's still pissed about A-Rod making the last out in the 2011 playoffs - can't say I blame him. He sees Jeet as the consumate team player and A-Rod as the selfish brother, sort of like Thor and Loki, (except Thor would hit more HRs and Loki would steal bases.) It's a recurring theme for the Atlantic City Odin, whose birth probe nearly chased Obama from office.
So, anyway, the other day, Debbie Gibson is selflessly crossing and uncrossing her fortysomething legs, while Donald pretends to ponder a paperweight, when the Miley Cyrus of 1983 announces that she cares not for personal glory, as long as her brothers and sisters are victorious on the battlefields of Asgard. Trump's eyelits snatch a quick glance of the Promised Land, then the Master replies Bobby Valentinelike:
That’s all about winning; that’s a Derek Jeter-type statement. We love Derek. That’s not an A-Rod statement; it’s a Derek statement.
Trump should buy the Mets. And Debbie Gibson should win "Celebrity Apprentice." What the hell ever happened to Tiffany?
Debbie's actually looking like A-Fraud's kind of woman.
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