This morning, I tweeted this: 


Well here it is. To prove that I am in perfect health to occupy the office of the president, I, Donald Trump, have released the physical examination of my 664 ft tall, gleaming, full-amenities body to the public.  

My body is in peak physical condition: It has a reinforced concrete, shear-wall core. It features six high-speed elevators and floor-to-ceiling windows with stunning views of Central Park. And tons of blood pressure.

I fully understand what a human body is.

My body is terrific. The 7th floor – I mean the thumb bladder – has a state-of-the-art health center with pilates machines, a steam room, and all the hard bones and lips and hearts of a man’s body.

I’m not trying to pass off an inspection of Trump Tower as a medical examination of a human body. I would only do that if my body were so completely decimated by years of living a disgusting nightmare life that it existed now as a collection of spray-tanned skin and hair held together by delusion and stuffed into a suit like a meat into a sausage casing. And that’s not what’s happening.

My body will blow your socks off it’s so fantastic. It has a five-level atrium with a waterfall. It’s clad in pink white-veined marble. It’s worth $318 million. It’s got gummy leg muscles of an Olympic push-upper and lungs filled with fresh teeth.

I can identify all the basic parts and functions of a human body.

My body is absolutely ready to be a tremendous, fully-climatised president with a skylight.


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