On Thursday, noted author Alec Baldwin launched the preview for his new book, You Can’t Spell America Without Me: The Really Tremendous Inside Story Of My Fantastic First Year As President Donald J. Trump (A So-Called Parody). The book is probably actually ghostwritten by Kurt Andersen, the founder of Spy magazine. The pictorial features for the excerpt, which appears in The Hollywood Reporter, include Baldwin sitting on the toilet.

How magical.

The excerpt itself is significantly less funny than Baldwin’s audition tape for talk radio.

In any case, the excerpt is a brutally awful Trump imitation. It’s not even written in Trumpian voice; if you want that, you should go out and buy Rob Long’s Bigly: Donald Trump in Verse. The excerpt begins thusly:

My inauguration, the actual legal takeover of the government with the Bible and then the speech, felt totally fantastic. Everybody watching, everybody listening, not just the 2 million or 3 million there on the Mall but like a billion people all over America and all over the world, on TV and online — probably on radio in Africa and India — so many watching, so many listening, no laughing, no talking (just me talking), total respect, even the haters terrified into a kind of respect, everyone focused on President Donald J. Trump.

Ugh. This isn’t even Trump’s voice. Trump would never use the word “terrified.” And this nonsense continues for thousands of words. Paragraphs like this one:

My third birthday party, fantastic time, leaning over the Carvel cake to blow out the candles, my hair catches on fire. Mom yells, "Fred, no," just as Dad pushes my face into the cake to put it out and starts laughing like a maniac, one of the only times I remember him laughing. The other thing I know is that you always remember the downs much, much more clearly and much, much longer than the ups, like each one is one of those video jiffies from Twitter playing over and over and over in your mind, and you can't delete them.

This stuff stinks more than Aloha.

Someone thought that publishing this book would be a brilliant idea — and there are so many Trump haters that it might just work. But it does highlight the fact that Hollywood’s pathetic leftist bias doesn’t work in Democrats’ favor: it merely alienates everyone in the center of the country.

All of which would be fine, if the book were funny. But it isn’t. See, e.g.:

In the limo this morning on the way out to the CIA, Kellyanne gave me a neck rub, the way Ivanka used to love doing when she was little, and then I felt even better when I delivered a great speech to the staff there. They gave me several amazing standing ovations. But then afterward, on the way out, somebody told me CIA headquarters is now officially called the George Bush Center for Intelligence. At first I thought that was some kind of Washington insider joke, but it turns out they mean the old Bush, Grandpa Bush, who it turns out ran the CIA for a year. Which suddenly made me put two and two together and realize why all the intelligence big shots are against me, since I destroyed Jeb Bush, knocked him out of the race a week after the first primary, even though he spent $150 million against me. It's why Billy Bush secretly taped me a decade ago. It's Hillary and Obama and the media and intelligence and the Bushes all in a giant circle jerk, and I'm tied down on the ground in the middle, and it's disgusting.


The good news: at least Baldwin will have less time to make It’s Complicated 2.