Donald Trump is democracy and capitalism at its best: inherited money talking tough. But it's not just his cool-headed intellect and flair for telling it like it is that's winning the hearts and minds of millions: There's no getting around the fact that "the Donald" is a damned attractive man.
For this reason, I have been working on establishing a Trump franchise of hair salons in Eastern Europe. To prove my own personal commitment to the project, I recently dyed what remaining hair I have left a slick golden color, then did a comb-over just above my left ear and in the back. Then using various ointments and a blow-dryer, I sculpted my remaining hair into a magnificent Trump-esque coiffure. I looked magnificent, godlike in fact — noble, virile, wizened, though youngish. I then took my new coif for a test drive along the streets of Moscow; and meanwhile hoping to avoid sudden winds, I could tell that I was turning heads. The fairer sex, I could sense, was attracted by my aura, spearheaded by my shiny new mane. When I got back home, I showed it to my girlfriend Lyuba, but she was unconscious after too many mojitos and a Botox injection.
While the salons are being set up, I'm spending my free time perfecting my best Trump. I've got the hair right and look magnificent. My new blond locks and attitude have allowed my local chapter of Nashi to overlook the fact that I'm American and to let me hang out with them. I lead a local pack around construction sites and the metro demanding passports and birth certificates to find out who's really Russian. Meanwhile, I'm a financial backer for the new breakthrough book, "Alexey Navalny: Hero or Western Whore?"