Since last we spoke many have fallen and I have come to understand numbers.

I have learned that I can take a punch, if it’s a glancing blow. My punctuation comes and goes, since last we spoke. I have forgotten lyrics and come to believe in angels. Received dangerous information of a sexual nature. Realized the only ones I really like are the kids. I don’t want them to work. I want them to stay as they are, perfect things, almost perfect, running and happy. The light is always moving within them. Since last we spoke there has been chanting and a kind bus driver with flowing grey hair. Music and fires, and an Elvis impersonator, but no UFO’s, although I hungered for them.

Since last we spoke, black cats and the possibility of ghosts. Vitamins dissolved into water and planes crashing all over the world. Into Jungles. Into Oceans. Into Mountains and corn fields and unknowable bodies of water. The weather, so much weather has happened since last we spoke. The hurricanes! Like buzz saws they cut across the oceans. Memories. Memories were forged and lost. Driving easy through the streets, late, windows rolled down. That’s The Way I Like It by KC and the Sunshine Band blaring. Head out the window like a dog, hopeful that more of the world might pour within. I lingered over you, since last we spoke. I wanted to be nude with you, under a dirty sheet in a borrowed house. I wanted to climb a tree and become all of the leaves. Since last we spoke I remembered your eyes, the way they changed and became lonely. The way they stayed lonely. I have eaten too much bread, since last we spoke, and walked impossible fields that lay like green blankets before deep water. I have used the Instant Pot and ridden my bicycle with no hands, but I have not changed my mind about Dolly Parton, since last we spoke.

I recently started a business in which I provide sexual misconduct apology letters for a wide variety of clients. If you need a sexual misconduct apology letter, please consider my affordable and highly effective services. Here are some excerpts of work I have done for various clients:

***********************************

1. It is with great anguish that I heard of that lady’s recollection about our night together in 1991. While her memory of that evening is very different from mine, it is now clear to me that her feelings of fear and intimidation are real. After all, I am a powerful Alpha male with many yachts and yes-men. However, in spite of this I have never been unusually violent, although I have been thoughtless and insensitive in some of my relationships over my many decades of sexual activity, and I sincerely and humbly apologize for accepting any blowjobs that were given out of ambition rather than love.

I am an ally to women everywhere.

2. Recently, there has been a little bit of coverage about some of my past behaviour in the “news.” I have made many mistakes and I am so very sorry that I have disappointed my friends, family, fans and beautiful team. My behaviour was wrong and there are no excuses. Although it is very difficult at the top, I take full responsibility for whatever my actions were, because that’s what a leader and Master Chef does.

Sharing the joys of Italian food with all of you each week is an honour and privilege. Without the support of all of you—my fans—I would never have a forum in which to combat the scourge that is sexual misconduct, so I want to thank you for giving me an opportunity to advance the cause for women all over the world. And in case you’re searching for a holiday-inspired breakfast, especially the mother’s out there, this link to Pizza Dough Cinnamon Rolls are a fan favourite!

3. As a college student on staff at a church in Texas more than 20 years ago, I regretfully had a sexual incident with a female high school senior in the church. At the time I thought ******’s form fitting sweater was a sign that my sexual gratification was God’s will. I see now that this wasn’t true, and that her sweater and strawberry lip gloss were in fact the devil’s beguiling handiwork. I sinned, Holy Spirit, I sinned, and I humbly ask if you would take this prayer and touch ******’s heart in the way that only you can and heal her of the pain that was caused from this sin 20 years ago. #Metoo #Timesup #IBelieveEve

4. Some of what is being said about me is untrue or mischaracterized, but there is enough truth in these stories to make me feel embarrassed and ashamed. Repairing the damage will take a lot of time and soul searching and I’m committed to beginning that effort. I have hired three lovely assistants to coach me in this endeavour, and have quit kite surfing in Barbados in order to better focus my energies on the important task at hand. The last two days have forced me to take a very hard look at all of my surviving sex tapes, and I see now that I was not acting the way a leading ally to women should have acted. I am very sorry, and ask all of those feeling pain to please apply this coupon code for a 15% discount on your next Cineplex experience!

Dear Santa:

I hope you enjoy your protein shake for your long journey.

I would like to know what it’s like to be Santa Claus.

1. Is it fun to fly?
2. Do you like being in charge of your elves?
3. Do you like delivering presents to children?
4. What’s your favourite hobby?
5. What do you do over the weekend?
6. Do you ever think of moving to a sunny place?
7. Do you go on vacation?
8. What’s your birthday?
9. Do you deliver presents to pets?
10. Do you have a pet?

Love,

Talullah from LA

Dear Talullah:

You should know that Santa is very grateful to you for leaving him a protein shake. You are a very sweet girl. Unfortunately, Santa is very lactose intolerant and suffers acute gastric distress whenever he has a protein shake, so he had to give it to Dasher, his lead reindeer, who is a bit of a hippy and really very experimental in his tastes. Last year Dasher tried Ayahuasca– saw serpents and had diarrhea for two days.

Santa isn’t sure how that “blessed” him with “spiritual advancement,” but whatever.

Santa will now try to answer all your questions!

1. It is NOT fun to fly. It is VERY dangerous, especially with all the drones terrorizing the skies! Santa is only able to do it if he gets gassed up and takes his medication: 3mg of Ativan and a magic gummy.
2. Santa is not in charge of the elves! Santa and the elves work as a team, functioning as a single unit without any hierarchy! Also, the elves are very well compensated for the work they do and the netting that surround Santa’s toy factory are NOT suicide nets like those at all the Apple factories in China! Also, any rumours you heard about elf slavery or elf sex slavery are not true! That’s fake news!
3. Santa has had worse jobs. Working at a poultry farm, for instance.
4. For hobbies Santa really enjoys Cosplay, voyeurism and experimenting with surveillance equipment.
5. On the weekends Santa usually just chills and watches Netflix with the wife. Highly recommends Mindhunter.
6. It is amazing to Santa how ill-informed people are! Little girls like you, Talullah, just live in little electronic silos, never learning anything you don’t already believe! Let Santa assure you, there is plenty of sun in the North Pole!
7. We have been to Mar-a-Lago a number of times. Just the best. Saw Melania changing into her bikini once. Not bad at all.
8. Santa will only tell you that he is a Leo with Pisces ascendent.
9. No. Santa would throw-up if he ever even saw a chicken again.
10. Several elves and a turtle.

This is a newsletter posted to the Super Yacht Community message board after the demonstrations in Charlottesville, Virginia :

*****************************************

Recent events in Charlottesville, Virginia have shaken not just the USA, but the global community, too, including those of us who belong to The Super-Yacht Community.

Many of our members have been rattled by the proletariat uprisings in the US and across Europe, and have been wondering whether or not being a white supremacist is really grounds for termination.

First off, everybody should just stay calm and keep in mind that the vast majority of the people in the Super-Yacht Community are job creators, not job leaches (consumers), and so we really don’t have to worry about getting fired.

If you don’t have a job at let’s say, The Bulk Barn, then Black Lives Matters can’t take it away from you for wanting to protect history, can they?

Regardless, The Super-Yacht Community has never been an insensitive or selfish group, and we’re well aware that many of the people who help to sustain us ( Ferrari repairmen, avocado specialists, bikini makers, personal assistants, personal physicians, personal nutritionists, mindfulness coaches, topiarists, helicopter pilots, addiction specialists, nannies, hunting guides and taxidermists, high-end sex workers, off-shore bankers, professional sports teams, etc.), are still vulnerable to loss of employment and social standing due to unfashionable political beliefs.

For instance, supermodel and beloved Super-Yacht Community member Tanya Mityushina has a brother named Dimitri.

(Dimitri is the one on the far right holding the “Nog Ar Nog) shield.

He worked as a DJ at a nightclub in Miami called Waves of Fire. Here, Dimitri enjoyed multiple revenue streams and unprecedented sexual opportunities. This young man was going places, but unfortunately his image was caught on camera while he was exercising his freedom of speech at a demonstration in Virginia and this (as well as his spirited thoughts on eugenics) resulted in in his termination.

In order to combat this lynching, we at the Super-Yacht Community have decided to start a Go Fund Me for Dimitri so that he might buy his own nightclub. It is to be tentatively called Tsunami Inferno, and it will be twice as large as Waves of Fire. We are looking at a target of $25 million to help Tanya’s brother get back up on his feet, so if any of you have an spare properties lying around downtown Miami, please feel free to donate!

On a melancholy note, we within the Super-Yacht Community (no longer officially affiliated with the Illuminati) and are deeply saddened that we recently lost one of our own. Glen Campbell was a great member of our community and a transcendent talent who truly made the world a better place. He will be missed.

Pace et requiem est, Rhinestone Cowboy.

And finally, please remember, if America burns there will be plenty of economic opportunity for our community.

Nisi eliphaz,

The SYC

PS: Also, keep in mind that everybody is welcome aboard Bono’s Super-Yacht “Kingdom Come” for a barbecue next week in Fiji. And yes, Ivanka will be there, so be prepared for a little larger press and military presence than usual.

Justin Trudeau and Barack Obama, or at least some consultation team associated with them, have made them, and now President Donald Trump, too, is releasing one. What follows are some selections from his playlist, as well as the President’s commentary on each song:

I Wanna Sex You Up by Color Me Badd

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kO6BtpIzIiM

“ This is a classic song. Sold over 6 million copies. Great artists. You ever see the video? In it a guy and a girl get it on in an elevator. Very hot. I had sex with Milla Jovovich in an elevator once. You see her in that movie Fifth Element? She wore nothing but bandaids in it, I mean, that was her costume. Very hot. Bet you would have liked some of that.”

Nadia’s Theme by Henry Mancini

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ttc9aCSRqEY

“What a beautiful, almost fragile piece of music. Made famous by that Romanian gymnast Nadia Comaneci in the 1976 Olympics. She was just a girl then, but she stole our hearts with her spectacular gymnastics. So beautiful. So limber. Later, when she was a woman, she appeared on Season 7 of Celebrity Apprentice. Attractive lady. Great boobs. Think they’re fake, but still pretty amazing. Saw her in the change room. Had to fire her, though. She just wasn’t cutting it.”

In The Air Tonight by Phil Collins

“ Very dramatic. If I was to commit a murder, I would do it to this song. Perfect music for killing. Phil was supposed to appear on Celebrity Apprentice but there was a scheduling conflict. Very short man, doubt he would have done well.”

Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds by the Beatles

“You can’t go wrong with the Beatles, and I particularly like this song because it’s about money. The Beatles should have written more songs about money.  If they did, they could have gone on forever, but people were really getting bored of all that love stuff near the end. They were fading. That’s why they had to break up. Had nothing to do with Yoko. Got to say, Yoko was not an attractive woman. Weirdly, Ringo, who was the ugliest Beatles, had the best looking wife. Barbara Bach. She was a Bond girl. A real luxury edition. We used to have sex regularly in a bathroom stall at Studio 56. Ringo had no idea. Such a fool.”

Carmina Burana by Carl Orff

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6rbZr7YoqK0

“You might remember this tune from an Old Spice ad where a guy is surfing. A hot blonde is watching him, just begging for it. Very erotic. The music is incredible, really speaks to me. Used to listen to it turned up real loud before every negotiation. Got me pumped out to head into battle. Never lost one.”

Blurred Lines by Robin Thicke

https://www.vevo.com/watch/robin-thicke/blurred-lines-(unrated-version)/USUV71300526

“Oh man, the titties in that video!”

My most recent invention is a dating service called Hater Mater, where people are paired based on the things they dislike rather than the things that they like.
This is the preliminary questionnaire I have written for people using the App:

1. On a scale of 0-10, how much do you hate the sky?

2. Please choose the stupidest fucking sign in the zodiac.

3. Order these celebrities in the sequence in which you would most want to see them surreally injured in a crossbow incident:

Amy Schumer
The Ikea Monkey
Ethan Hawke
The entire cast from Orange is the New Black
Eric Trump
Adam Driver and Terry Richardson

4. On a scale of 0-10, how much do you hate the ocean?

5. Which Margaret Atwood novel gives you the worst stabbing stomach pain?

6. What do you hate more, squirrels or birds? (Please elaborate)

7. Do your parents hate you more than you hate them, or do you hate them more than they hate you?

8. Is you best friend kind of an asshole?

9. Do you find chopsticks to be infuriating and stupid and pretentious?

10. Do you often find yourself fantasizing about making over-rated Canadian author Margaret Atwood cry?

11. Which part of this passage from a celebrated Margaret Atwood novel do you despise the most?

“Who are you? And I mean really. Who are you?”

My gut tells me that if I tell her right now, in this moment, it will not be well-received. “A friend,” I say, my gaze lowering to her lush mouth and lifting. “And the man who wants to kiss you. Really kiss you. Can I kiss you, Myla?”

“You’re asking?”

“Yes. I’m asking. After all you’ve been through-”

“He hasn’t destroyed me. He hasn’t beaten me and I don’t like that you think he has.”

“I don’t think he’s beaten you.”

“He hasn’t,” she insists. “I’m not giving him that power and damn it, you better not either by treating me like I’m broken and fragile. So kiss me if you’re going to kiss me or let me go, if you don’t want-”

I cup the back of her head, and slant my mouth over hers, my tongue sliding against hers, stroking, caressing, and the taste of her, one part hunger I welcome, but the other part, the torment, I intend to drive away. I deepen the kiss, my hand pressing beneath her tank top, finding warm, soft skin. My fingers splay over her rib cage, while my mind reminds me that no matter how big she talks, she wants this escape for a reason. She has been abused, used, hurt. “

12. “Everybody loves a parade,” true or false?

13. Is Real Estate for fools?

14. When you hear the word “Mindfulness” do you want to build an attack drone or buy a magic killing sword?

15. What do you hate more, having to use a sink or writing with a pen?

16. Which superhero would you most like to beat-up in a fight?

17. Do you hate it when people say, “Good Morning!”

18. Are relationships insanely unrealistic and entirely impossible?

19. On a scale of 1 to 100, how much do you hate non-Spanish speaking people who pronounce Nicaragua as ‘Knee-ah-rah-hah?”

20. If you heard that Margaret Atwood opened a restaurant and that all the sandwiches were named after her poems, would you immediately vomit?

He may not have been the “best” Bond, but he was my Bond, the one I grew up with.

My parents used to take me to his movies regularly, and it was always a thrill. The iconic, deadly cool theme music, the risque opening in which you could kind-of-and-kind-of-not see naked women, and then the whole camp fantasy of being a handsome and unflappable spy– it was all immensely appealing to a boy on the cusp of puberty.

Kind of like a Wes Anderson film, the Bond movies starring Roger Moore were a child’s vision of the adult world — a comic book fantasia made manifest, but one that promised to be safe, free from the dreary weight of all the unimaginable day-to-day realities that lay ahead.

I was 13 when Moonraker came out. Jaws, a lurching behemoth with steel fangs, was the primary villain, and he was awesome. At the end of the film, after Bond had coasted to victory and Jaws was pulling himself out of the rubble of some foiled plan, a tiny blonde– busty, pigtailed and bespectacled– appeared to help him. Jaws turns and smiles, his metal teeth glinting, and she smiles back. It’s love at first sight, and they then exit into some charming and eccentric future together.

What I remember, and what everybody I have asked remembers about this scene, is that the woman ( Dolly) had braces. This was what connected the two. In spite of their size difference, they were soul mates in braces. It was the sort of thing a 13 year-old kid, the type of kid who might actually have had braces, and that the movie was trying to appeal to, instantly related to. All of us watching, in the midst of our tortured, monstrous throes of puberty, hoped to find a Dolly, too. It was something that resonated deeply and stayed with us.

Anyhow, in returning to the YouTube clip of the scene, I saw that it was clear that Dolly did not have braces.

I mean, I had been fucking positive she had braces.

This braces-less reality seemed utterly impossible to me, like discovering I was a Replicant and not a human at all, but there it was.

No braces.

Anyhow, if like me, you remember Hannibal Lecter saying, “Hello, Clarice,” or Darth Vader intoning, “Luke, I am your father,” or Sally Field shouting, “You like me, you really like me!” while accepting an Oscar, then you have apparently experienced what I have just discovered is known as the Mandela Effect.

Now what the Mandela Effect is, is complicated, Internet complicated, and it’s layered in the sort of conspiratorial proofs that only online culture can provide.

Dive deep, if you wish:

Without tunnelling into the rabbit holes surrounding this phenomena, I will simply say that what clearly emerges from all this is that our memory, be it individual or collective, is incredibly unreliable. Sometimes, what we believe to be true, what we know in our bones to be true, what even our tribe agrees is true, is not true. Memory is mysterious, a product of our consciousness that is constantly being constructed and revised, existing as a work in progress rather than some immutable photograph we can reference at will. Everything is in flux, and the truth, as unpalatable as it is, is that we know nothing for sure, and are very, very easily manipulated. In the furious age of Trump, it’s wise to keep this in mind before launching a scorched earth assault on anything that might contradict our world view. We would all benefit from a little less certainty and a little more kindness, I think.

How could that be?

Look at her.

She’s stunning.

I, of course, had the blunt interests of a boy who knew nothing about women or sex– although I was very interested in both– and I simply accepted Hollywood’s casual objectification of these mysteries. I didn’t know somebody was attractive unless Hollywood signalled to me that they were, something they usually did by a display of nudity. And so the promise of Jessica Lange, Kim Basinger or Jamie Lee Curtis taking off their top in some accessible, high velocity movie was simply too much for me to resist.

Streep, who even at a young age seemed to be playing adults rather than sex toys for naive adolescents, was cast in the sort of films that my parents might be interested in, in “prestige” films, and even though she was of the same general age as all the other celebrities I lusted after, she was stood apart from them, a European cousin, or something.

As an adult I came to love Meryl Streep. Not so much for her acting, which was always somehow obscured for me by her reputation for “acting,” but for her presence. Talented, charismatic and beautiful, she’s also fantastically articulate and charming, and like everybody else I was super keen to hear her speak at the Golden Globes.

Her speech was widely celebrated.

Meryl Streep, Hollywood’s single-combat hero, called to our better angels, and as we sat there listening it was as if the Stature of Liberty herself was speaking. Expecting to love every word of it, I was surprised to discover that I did not.

Although she might have been joking when she referred to the roomful of beautiful, insanely wealthy and adored people sitting before her as, “The most vilified segment of American society,” it made me roll my eyes . Whether she intended it with any irony or not is unclear, but the thrust of her argument was that Hollywood, full of outsiders and foreigners, was representative of some sort of scrappy refugee success story rather than a consumerist ideal of near-unattainable privilege. She continued, saying that if Trump had his way, all America would have left would be football and mixed martial arts– and as she said this, her voice rising in certainty, finger wagging, she admonished, “Which are not the arts!”

The home crowd cheered.

I don’t know.

I had thought I was the home crowd, too, but was I supposed to believe that actors were rescuing America from the things that the people who lived there liked? That football and MMA were unworthy to watch unless they were recreated in movie format starring celebrities?

Something like that?

I wasn’t sure.

Her audience was rapt, hanging on every word. And they were all so beautiful and dewy, so earnest and self-congratulatory in expression, so not of this earth that I imagined them separating from the rest of the world and rising up, up, up in some magical balloon that they knew the rest of us, so smitten, would never be able to let go of.

Her condemnation of Trump’s nascent war on journalism struck me as wanting, too, because there is likely no industry that succeeds so brilliantly at manipulating the press as does Hollywood. The Hollywood Foreign Press, who are responsible for the Golden Globes, are little more than a marketing wing for the industry, trading off favourable stories for glamorous access.

When we see our celebrities on the red carpet refusing to be objectified by not revealing who made their outfit and thus striking a blow for equal rights, we have to keep in mind that they’re still accepting money to advertise that dress.

Hollywood is about money.

Period.

If art or diversity or empathy is a byproduct of this pursuit, all the better, but if Meryl Streep were being honest with herself and the rest of us, she might acknowledge that she, like Trump, depends on a compliant media to promote her work and spin her narratives.

And so it goes.

Everything touches everything else.

It’s not like Streep was saying anything crazy, though. She was trying to do good, but her blind spots were, well, Hollywood in scope. Her words were tangled in contradictions, a stinging disregard for those who might not agree with her, and an imperious detachment from the pedestrian, discount store lives the rest of us struggle to lead, and that actually demoralized me.

Politicians and actors, I have found out, have all too much in common.

You might be astonished, as I was, to discover that there is actually quite a bit about baseball, specifically the Toronto Blue Jays and their playoff run, in it. Here are some of the standout passages:

*************************************************************

Song of Solomon 2:9

Marcus Stroman, my beloved, is like a gazelle or a young stag. Look! Here he comes, leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills!

Mark 14:51

A young man ran out onto the field after the 5^th inning wearing nothing but a linen sheet over his naked body; and they seized him. But he pulled free of the linen sheet and escaped naked.

Leviticus 27:20

And after the pitch, which was surely out of the strike zone, was called a strike by the umpire, Josh Donaldson, the great rain maker of the Toronto Blue Jays,

turned to him, “Satan’s servant, if you do not listen to me but continue to be hostile toward me, then in my anger I will be hostile to you, and I myself will punish you for your sins seven times over. You will eat the flesh of your sons and the flesh of your daughters.”

Samuel 23:12

But Edwin took his stand in the midst of the diamond, and Lo, the ball soared deep into the night, and the LORD worked a great victory.

Leviticus 18: 19

Thou shalt not approach unto a woman to uncover her nakedness on game day, nor eat too much honey.

Samuel 15:3

This is what the Lord Almighty says… ‘Now go and strike the Texas Rangers and devote to destruction all that they have. Do not spare them, but kill both man and woman, child and infant, ox and sheep, camel and donkey and batboy.”

Kings 2:23

Then he went down to Texas from the suburbs of Toronto to see the mighty Jays bring sorrow to the Rangers; and as he was going into the stadium, some youths came from the street and mocked him, and said to him, “BLUE JAYS SUCK! BLUE JAYS SUCK!” So he turned around and looked at them, and pronounced a curse on them in the name of the Lord. And two female bears came out of the woods and mauled forty-two of the youths.

Revelation 12:7

And there was war in the Roger’s Centre. Joey Bats and his angels fought against Rougned Odor, and the Dragon and his angels fought back.

Isaiah 40:31

But they who are patient at the plate and let pass the false strikes of Ranger serpent Yu Darvish,

the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary.

Song of Solomon 2:3

Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest is Troy Tulowitzki among the young men. I delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my taste.

**************************************************************

Eliminate all conflict-of-interest restrictions governing elected officials. Buy-off and/or torture all in opposition.

Remove Harriet Tubman from twenty-dollar bill, replace with Keith Hernandez.

Find out difference between Hispanic, Latino and Mexican. Fire Mexicans. Find out if Cespedes is Mexican; if so, grant amnesty.

Rename ballpark Donald J. Trump, POTUS, Luxury Baseball Stadium and Driving Range. Also suitable for use as as detention/execution facility in off-season

Mr. Met is a loser as far as mascots go, no talent, but the merchandizing is in place.

Need to open up new mascot revenue streams. Sidekick? Chris Christie? Put him in a flesh-colored bodysuit? Sad clown in flesh-colored bodysuit wearing opponent’s hat?? Mr. Met beats on him with a baseball bat or lead pipe whenever we score.

Every time the opposing pitcher gets pulled from the game a giant image of me, President Donald J. Trump, will appear on the video screen saying, “You’re fired!” Crowd goes wild. Crowds love me, especially mobs.

Contact NASA and find out what planet Noah Syndergarrd is from. Get more like him.

Replace foul poles with beautiful, high-quality columns made from the finest ivory and marble.

Order CIA Black Op to steal opponent’s signals. Be present to ensure waterboarding.

In off-season run reality show to determine Mets new closer. Call it “The Closer.” Think intro: “I’m President Donald J. Trump, the greatest negotiator on the planet. I have what it takes to be the ultimate closer, do you?”

Create companion show for The Closer called, “The Burning Hot Wives of Major League Baseball!”

Interview players, management and other team owners (include fan vote but disregard) to find out who baseball’s hottest wives are. Then the wives, in bikinis, tennis skirts, etc, compete against one another (setting a dinner table, pleasing your man in bed, skiing, etc) to see who is the ULTIMATE trophy wife. Winner gets a featured modelling spot in Sports Illustrated and a $100,000 shopping/cosmetic surgery spree with Melania in her native Slovenia. Note: Buy Sport’s Illustrated.

Sign biggest star in the world for role in organization. Leo?? Hulk Hogan?? Billy Joel?? Larry King?? Meet with cabinet to discuss.

Donald Trump’s New York Mets-themed golf resort and luxury casino on Rockaway Beach. Former Mets work as greeters, golf instructors, bartenders, housekeepers, dealers, masseurs and high-end gigolos. Premier bachelorette party destination and homosexual paradise. Will sink Vegas.

Honor the Job Creators Night. Plutocrats and their servants get in for free. During the seventh-inning stretch there will be a welfare queen scramble. The assembled poor will run about the outfield trying to collect one dollar bills as they’re blown around by a giant fan. Loser who receives the most handouts gets a collector’s edition, Omarosa bobble-head doll and $150 worth of gaming chips at Donald Trump’s New York Mets-themed golf resort and luxury casino on Rockaway Beach.

Fire manager every three months. Employees work best if motivated by fear. (Reminder: Fire personal assistant, efficient but missing a finger, not Trump quality)

Buy-off all the umpires, but torture them first.