In summer 1989, my wife and I had a nonstop to Seattle. In the five-hour flight, I read The Art of the Deal from cover to cover. This was right at the time I decided to switch careers from teaching to real estate investing. I was 30 years old. That book was so motivational to me, had more sound business tips, and was so inspiring, I couldn't wait to get back home and start. That was 33 years ago, and it was the best decision I ever made.
But the point is, Donald Trump represented the very best of America. He was extremely wealthy by age 34, a self-made billionaire by 40. A brilliant, bold, organized, disciplined, confident swashbuckling kind of guy. I liked that and wanted to be that in my own sphere, though not the showy part. I wasn't going to do anything near as big as buy a landmark NYC hotel, but I was going to do my own little thing here in my mid-sized city.
Fast forward to late 1996. My wife and I were in Romania. Not far removed from Communism. The weather was overcast, bleak, lifeless. So were the people. Walking through the streets of Bucharest, the men were all dressed alike. Drab black pants, black shoes, black overcoat. They walked without energy or purpose it seemed. I was tall energetic, walked fast, wore jeans and white sneakers, and a bright red, white, and blue windbreaker. I didn't realize how I stood out, though I wasn't trying to. People looked at me. In the evening, I walked downtown to the casino. I did pretty well at blackjack. The natives didn't seem to know how to play. Nobody ever split or doubled down. I was having such a good run, people were putting their chips beside mine. Before long, the floor manager summoned me, and said I would have to remove my red, white, and blue jacket because it was too flamboyant for their tastes. Underneath I was wearing an old beat-up gray sweatshirt, but that was fine with them because it was not bright. I apologized and did what they wanted.
When I got back to the house where we were staying, I asked our native guide how I was perceived. I thought perhaps I was disliked. She said, no, the people can tell you are an American and admire that. They admire your energy, and are a bit jealous of you because of all you represent. I think I appeared to them the same way Americans see Donald Trump. Tall, energetic, can-do, very confident, maybe a little brash. Some are jealous. But this is what America is.
But is also extremely generous, giving, and caring. Just like Donald Trump. There are many stories of people Trump has helped financially without it being publicized. The media has scrubbed most of those accounts. But I remember before the big Google purge of 2016, such stories were readily found. America has always come to the aid of people in need. We are strong, confident, and giving. Never has an American leader matched a country's personality better than President Trump.
But the Marxist left doesn't want that. They want us to be like Soviet-bloc people. Bland, weak, tired, ineffectual zombie-like, and controlled. They don't want people to strive and dream and work and achieve. They don't want Donald Trumps.
But the point is, Donald Trump represented the very best of America. He was extremely wealthy by age 34, a self-made billionaire by 40. A brilliant, bold, organized, disciplined, confident swashbuckling kind of guy. I liked that and wanted to be that in my own sphere, though not the showy part. I wasn't going to do anything near as big as buy a landmark NYC hotel, but I was going to do my own little thing here in my mid-sized city.
Fast forward to late 1996. My wife and I were in Romania. Not far removed from Communism. The weather was overcast, bleak, lifeless. So were the people. Walking through the streets of Bucharest, the men were all dressed alike. Drab black pants, black shoes, black overcoat. They walked without energy or purpose it seemed. I was tall energetic, walked fast, wore jeans and white sneakers, and a bright red, white, and blue windbreaker. I didn't realize how I stood out, though I wasn't trying to. People looked at me. In the evening, I walked downtown to the casino. I did pretty well at blackjack. The natives didn't seem to know how to play. Nobody ever split or doubled down. I was having such a good run, people were putting their chips beside mine. Before long, the floor manager summoned me, and said I would have to remove my red, white, and blue jacket because it was too flamboyant for their tastes. Underneath I was wearing an old beat-up gray sweatshirt, but that was fine with them because it was not bright. I apologized and did what they wanted.
When I got back to the house where we were staying, I asked our native guide how I was perceived. I thought perhaps I was disliked. She said, no, the people can tell you are an American and admire that. They admire your energy, and are a bit jealous of you because of all you represent. I think I appeared to them the same way Americans see Donald Trump. Tall, energetic, can-do, very confident, maybe a little brash. Some are jealous. But this is what America is.
But is also extremely generous, giving, and caring. Just like Donald Trump. There are many stories of people Trump has helped financially without it being publicized. The media has scrubbed most of those accounts. But I remember before the big Google purge of 2016, such stories were readily found. America has always come to the aid of people in need. We are strong, confident, and giving. Never has an American leader matched a country's personality better than President Trump.
But the Marxist left doesn't want that. They want us to be like Soviet-bloc people. Bland, weak, tired, ineffectual zombie-like, and controlled. They don't want people to strive and dream and work and achieve. They don't want Donald Trumps.
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