Дональд Трамп - Triggered

You tell me which side those people are on. People like Omar were literally saved by the United States, and she repays the soldiers who will help keep her safe by insulting them. As I said on Twitter, I’ll bet that when Omar watches Black Hawk Down , she roots for the Somali warlords.

President Trump knows foundations as well as anyone and certainly better than anybody else in the political world. Over the course of his first term, he’s built a solid foundation on which America can soar, bringing us back to the glory we once had. Solid construction is the enemy of socialism. Democrats will do everything they can to sabotage what my dad is building. We can’t let them worm their way in.

4.

CLASS WARFARE

AS YOU CAN PROBABLY GUESS, my father and I didn’t spend a whole lot of time tossing a baseball back and forth in the backyard. When your backyard is a busy patch of a Fifth Avenue sidewalk, playing catch isn’t an easy thing to do. It seems that Manhattan pedestrians don’t take kindly to getting whacked in the head by flying objects.

Instead, during our weekends and summer vacations, my father would take me, my brother, and my sister out to his job sites, letting us trail alongside him the way his own father had done with him. We would arrive early in the morning as the crews were setting up, and I would walk with my dad while he inspected the concrete foundations and metal stairways. Whether it was a golf course or a building, he would walk every inch of it. He has an incredible attention to detail—from the quality of the cement to how many dishes cabinets will hold to the depth of a sand trap. If there were any imperfections, no matter the size or the significance, he would notice. He could figure out how to do the best job at the lowest cost, something the government doesn’t seem to think about very much. He would spend a whole day on the site, then come back the next day to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. He looked—well, you’ve seen the photos: dark suit and long overcoat, out of context on a job site. But there was nowhere my father was more at home. He loved talking with the men and women who made it all happen for him. Many of those men and women, by the way, occupy senior positions at Trump Tower today. The same people who taught me to swing a hammer now help me make major decisions about new projects.

During lunch breaks, I would sit with the union contractors and plumbers while they ate. We would talk about sports and the events of the day, and my brother and I would ask every question about power tools and construction equipment we could think of. I was always amazed by heavy machinery and, in fact, would go on to learn how to drive bulldozers and maneuver cranes. I always said that Eric and I were the only sons of billionaires who could drive D-10 Caterpillars and run chainsaws. We had done just that before we could even drive a car, at least legally.

In the afternoons, I would hear my father talking with the men and women who were in charge of design and development. Those conversations could get tense, especially when they were about deadlines or budgets. But there could be laughter, too. When my father talked to me about the construction business, he would emphasize the need to be both precise and flexible, and to be physically on the site and not in some boardroom listening to people read from spreadsheets. He didn’t lock himself in an office and look at monitors all day. He was on the ground. It was good advice, both for the construction business and for life. It’s also pretty good advice for running a country. Not only should you do a better job, you should do a better job for less money. To paraphrase Ronald Reagan, this is even more important when you’re spending other people’s money.

To give me my own solid foundation, my father made my brother and me get jobs as soon as we could lift our own tools. He put us in the care of a couple of his loyal employees, Brian Baudreau and Vinny Stellio. Brian would drive me to school when I was a kid, and had little or no experience in construction when he began working for my dad. But Dad saw something in him that wasn’t on his written résumé. My father promoted people based on their character, street smarts, and work ethic, people—as I said in my 2016 Republican National Convention speech—with doctorates in common sense. Brian went on to head the construction of our hotel on the Las Vegas Strip, bringing it in on time and under budget in the middle of the financial crisis. Now he runs the hotel, and he does it better than those who had been doing the job for decades. Vinny Stellio started as a bodyguard for my father and rose to become one of his most trusted advisors in Trump Org. Sometimes he would drive us to school, too. They were smart guys—brilliant, even—but they didn’t have the right degrees or the right acronyms behind their names to get a good start in most businesses. Most executives wouldn’t even have given them the time of day. But DJT was different. He saw their talent, work ethic, street smarts, and he allowed them to run with those qualities.

Learning the business also came naturally to me. For generations, the men in our family had worked construction jobs. As I mentioned, my grandfather on my mother’s side was an electrician in Communist Czechoslovakia. He kept the lights on—or at least flickering—in the shabby gray buildings of the area, a job that paid enough to put food on the table and to rent his small apartment in the city. He had a huge impact on my life. As I have come to learn, my Czechoslovakian grandparents were very important to my development as a person and to my politics.

On my father’s side, of course, we had the famous Fred Trump, a man I know means as much to my father as my father does to me. Throughout my life, I would hear my father hold his father up as the shining example of work ethic and business acumen.

So when it came time to get a job, I figured I would do something with my hands. It seemed only natural after all the time I had spent hanging around job sites as a kid. By that time, I could tell the sound of a Sawzall from a circular saw. I could hang Sheetrock, pour concrete, and get a stripped Phillips-head screw out of a wall without much trouble. Though I might forget which fork you were supposed to use with salad at a dinner party, I did know what grit sandpaper you’d use on the table. My mom eventually got some of the etiquette to stick, but it took a while.

Though I mowed lawns in Connecticut in my early teens, my first real job came when I was fifteen. I worked the summer at my father’s casino on the marina in Atlantic City. There were docks outside, and the beautiful people docking boats in the harbor kept me busy all summer. Some days I would be a dock attendant, throwing ropes over the boats for pretty good tips. For a while, it was a good time. I hung out with pretty girls, made a bunch of friends, and had plenty of spending money. Then, a couple of years later, I got what I thought was a promotion and ended up out in the woods with a chain saw in my hands.

Clearing land for a development, I discovered a very different world from the one I had known on the docks. All of a sudden, the pretty girls were gone, I was making no money in tips, and every human being in sight was a sweaty man in work boots.

Not exactly what you’d call a promotion. But I learned everything I could about doing manual labor and soaked up all the norms of behavior that came with being around working men. It was good for me to be working and making my own money, especially because a lot of the kids who grew up like I did went the route of the spoiled brats you see in movies: taking limousines to school, partying in the New York clubs, and going away to expensive resorts for spring break. (Although I may have done some of that myself. I never said I was perfect, did I?) Getting away from all that every summer was good for me. To this day, Eric and I are probably the only sons of a billionaire who could parallel park a Caterpillar D-10 in Manhattan if we had to, because that’s what we did all summer as kids.