People are asking—I shouldn’t be saying this, but a tremendous number of people are asking—why does Donald Trump always have on that floppy suit jacket? Why doesn’t he button it? Can he button it? Other candidates, when they visit a state fair, wear bluejeans and a work shirt. A work shirt. They want to show that they’re in good physical condition, because a President needs stamina. He has to be high energy. No work shirt for Doughboy Donald. He wears a floppy suit jacket and a baseball hat. What’s he hiding? And have you noticed that his neckties—wide neckties, really huge neckties, huge—come clear down to his belt buckle? How does that happen with a man who is six feet three? That’s all I’m asking. Is he malformed? Does he have a short upper body to go with the short fingers? Does he buy extra-long ties? Or are the neckties specially designed to hide the outlines of some stays around his midsection? I don’t know, but that’s what some people say. And why is his face that funny orange color? Could it be that he has to hold his breath because of a tight corset? I’m just passing along what some people are asking. These people don’t care whether a candidate is fat or thin. What they care about is whether or not they can trust the nuclear codes to a man who is deceptive about his own shape.

Why does he look so much more bloated in his neck and in his face than in his midsection? Is it because we can’t really see his midsection? Thousands of people in other countries have noticed this, and they’re laughing at us. Believe me, they’re laughing at us. China is laughing at us, because they make corsets in China—which, by the way, they’re undercutting us on. For millions. Millions. Dozens of people have tweeted at me about this corset. Hundreds. I’m not saying that Trump wears a corset, but I’ve received thousands of letters and tweets saying that the size of his neck doesn’t match the size of his stomach. A pattern of deception! And a tremendous number of those letters and tweets compliment me on my own neck. I have a great neck.

I’m told, by some people who should know, that the man is wearing a corset. They say there’s a tremendous chance of that. Tremendous. A huge chance of that. Huge. They suspect that bigly. Sure, Trump’s doctor released a so-called medical report—written, the doctor now says, in five minutes—which says Donald has lost fifteen pounds in the past twelve months. But it doesn’t give his weight. It doesn’t give his weight, because what if a man who looks like he weighs maybe two hundred and thirty pounds really weighs two hundred and eighty pounds. People are going to ask where he’s hiding that extra fifty pounds. Believe me, they’re going to ask that. And I don’t even want to think about the answer. It’s disgusting.

In fact, the whole medical report is a one-page letter that is short on numbers. Very short. Really tremendously short. Shorter than Marco Rubio. The letter’s language, so close to Donald’s language, brings up the question of who wrote a letter, years ago—if there was such a letter—telling Doughboy Donald’s draft board that he was ineligible for the Vietnam draft because of bone spurs in his heels. And did that letter really use the phrase “best bone spurs ever”? I can hardly bring myself to discuss this, because it’s disgusting. Very, very disgusting. The last time bone spurs were in the news was when Joe DiMaggio had a bone spur. Don’t get me wrong: I loved and admired Joe DiMaggio. And he loved and admired me. Baseball players love me, because I’m a winner. Joe DiMaggio had an operation to remove the bone spur. Did Doughboy Donald have an operation? There’s no record of that. So where are those bone spurs now? Did they just squirt out between his toes, or does he still have bone spurs in there somewhere? I’ve had people looking for those bone spurs, and you won’t believe what they’re finding. When their report is released, those bone spurs will make the corset look like small potatoes. But the corset is still disgusting. Very, very disgusting. And deceptive. But I don’t want to talk about that. I’d rather talk about the issues. ♦