Me: Mr. Trump, you have recently said that you do not believe in the findings of 17 intelligence organizations that Russia hacked into our computer infrastructure in order to compromise the election. Your reaction, sir?
DT: I don't believe it.
Me: Okay. Moving on. I'd like to discuss oxygen.
DT: It's not there.
Me: Air? Air is not there?
DT: I can't see it. Can't smell it. How the hell do you know?
Me: So... it's not there?
DT: Look I'm bigly smart. If my wife wears perfume I better smell it because I bought it.
Me: So the perfume is there because...
DT Because I can smell it! What the hell is wrong with you?
Me: The telephone. That was invented by Alexander Graham Bell.
DT: Not true.
Me: What?
DT: Did you ever meet him?
Me: Uh, he died in 1922.
DT: So you're telling me that you know for a fact that you are 100% certain that Alexander Graham Bell invented the phone. Why? Because you read it in some textbook? Who wrote the textbook? You don't even know that. For all we know both the phone and the textbook were invented by some guy in New Jersey sitting on his bed.
Me: How about climate change?
DT: I believe in it bigly.
Me: Really? You do?
DT: Again: I'm a smart guy. I know the way the world works. The climate changes with every season. You don't have to be a world-class scientist who, by the way, do we believe everything that they say they discovered just because they say that they did?
Me: But... you are doing the same thing. You are saying we should believe everything you say.
DT: That's because first of all, I have lived my entire life in New York, which is a fantastic reason because the people, most of the people, I'm not naming who, are not so fantastic.
Me: What?
DT: Take Michelle Williams in that trailer for that movie. What the hell is it called? Rochester got a C?
Me: "Manchester by the Sea"
DT: Okay, fine. I'm sure if I look that up you will be proven wrong. Anyway, in that commercial, for the movie I mean, when she's crying and talking at the same time. I have no idea what the hell she is saying. It might as well be Chinese or baby talk or whatever. Now you can say to me she's boo-hoo, crying about God knows what, but for all we know she broke her tiny little pinky toe.
Me: Let's play a little word association. I'll throw a few words out at you and you tell me the first thing that comes to your mind. Okay? Just blurt out whatever comes to your mind. Ready? God.
DT: Burping from too much Pepsi.
Me: Freedom of speech.
DT: Hugh Jackman. A terrific guy. I met him in Hawaii. He has the pecs of a 17-year-old.
Me: Trade.
DT: For what?
Me: Donald, Jr.
DT: Buy shoelaces. And gum. But not Dentyne. Never Dentyne. Dentyne sucks. Why is that even a flavor?
Me: Kelly Ann Conway.
DT: Carl's Junior. Yum.
Me: Steve Bannon.
DT: Sears tires.
Me: Obamacare.
DT: Mozart in the Jungle. Who the hell would want to watch such a thing? Tarzan I understand. Okay? But a composer who lived like a million years ago swinging on a vine? I don't think so. Gimme a break.
Me: China
DT: Larry Gelbart. Mash? Just terrific. Terrific.
Me: The earth.
DT: Knuckle sandwich.
Me: Women rights?
DT: Small feet.
Me: Mexicans.
DT: Spankslish. Which I believe is Spanish for panties. I have, by the way, what I've been told is the single biggest collection of women's panties in possibly the world. I actually have a room completely dedicated to them. Many have names.
Me: Islam.
DT: It feels like an unfinished word! Finish the damn word! It could be Islamaboombah for God's sake. I have people working on that.
Me: The Cabinet.
DT: Michael Jackson named his monkey Bubbles. How ridiculous was that? You name a stripper Bubbles. A kid's shampoo maybe. But a monkey? How do you arrive at that? It makes zero sense.
Me: Okay...
DT: My two favorite letters.
Me: No. I meant we're done.
DT: Rich people, especially guys, should never wear penny loafers because who are we kidding? We could stuff those shoes with so much cash it would make your head spin. Believe me.
Me: Thank you.
DT: Why does everyone try to get me to say that? No one in my house ever said that. They just grabbed things and yelled, "Mine!" And if you tried to stop them they kicked you right in the balls. Especially my mother. Just try to pry those pearl earrings out of her clenched fist. You'd limp for a goddamn week.
Me: I'm speechless.
DT: Well I have someone who can write one for you that can sound so much like Michelle Obama, you'll cry.
(At this point the interviewer holds his head, screams and keeping running until he gets to the Hudson River and leaps in. And.... scene).