What’s this I keep hearing about Donald Trump and his campaign reminding people of me and my victorious 1968 presidential run? Who the hell are these idiots who keep spewing such crap? That’s got to be the most asinine thing I’ve heard since I assumed room temperature.

Just because some politically unmoored Johnny-come-lately incessantly repeats “law and order” while trying to scare the daylights out of Americans, it doesn’t mean he’s Dick Nixon. I don’t care how far Roger Stone has his hand up the guy’s ass and tries to make him sound like me.

I’ve got news for Roger: I never liked you. Watching Bob Dole fire you as a little snot-nosed punk gave me a rare moment of pleasure in the midst of Watergate. And who the hell gets a tattoo of Dick Nixon on his back, anyway? It’s not flattering. It’s goddam creepy, is what it is.

I didn’t pussy out and outsource the job of conspiring against my enemies to foreign workers. Then again, I didn’t grow up with a servant wiping my ass after I crapped in a goddam golden toilet, either.

In any event, you all need to quit comparing that pussy Trump to me. That’s right, I called him a pussy. And unlike that pussy, I’m not being sarcastic. He’s a pussy.

When Dick Nixon says something, he means every goddam word, and he sticks by it, no matter how unpopular it may be. I never tried to dismiss anything I said by saying “I was being sarcastic” or “just kidding.”

Dick Nixon never kids around. Ever.

That tiny-handed, over-privileged, silver-spoon-mouthed son of a bitch likes to talk about how the broad he’s running against has to take naps. He says he doesn’t have time for naps. Well, apparently, he has time for jokes. Jokes involving those godless heathens in Moscow.

Dick Nixon never joked around, especially with the goddam Russkies, for Christ’s sake!

But let me be perfectly clear: I might be a crook, but I’m not a fool. Trump was not being sarcastic when he invited the goddam Russkies to hack us to find that broad’s emails. He was asking them to do his opposition research for him. Wanted to keep his hands clean. What a goddam pussy.

Dick Nixon had the guts to send his own men into the hotel to get the goods on the Democrats. I didn’t pussy out and outsource the job of conspiring against my enemies to foreign workers. Then again, I didn’t grow up with a servant wiping my ass after I crapped in a goddam golden toilet, either.

That bald, four-eyed Paki is right. Trump hasn’t a goddam clue what real sacrifice is.

I do. My daddy didn’t give me millions of dollars. I had to fight for every single thing I got.

The only thing Bonespurs McFuckface has had to fight in 70 years is the urge to boff his daughter.

Hell, I even fought the goddam Japs when I didn’t have to. As a birthright Quaker, I could’ve been exempted from the draft. My work in government at the time could have afforded me a deferment, as well. But I chose to join the Navy and fight to defend this great land.

Unlike that pussy Trump. The only thing Bonespurs McFuckface has had to fight in 70 years is the urge to boff his daughter.

And if he’s so much like me, why the hell did he try to distance himself from a reporter’s assertion that he wants to carpet bomb ISIS? He said it was the Cubano Cruz who said that, not him.

What the hell is wrong with carpet bombing? Seriously, what kind of weak-kneed pussy distances himself from carpet bombing America’s enemies? I mean, is this not the same macho tough guy who said he wants to kill the families of terrorists? Well, if so, you know what’s a pretty damn effective method for doing that? Carpet bombing, goddammit!

So, for the love of God, please quit comparing that pansy-ass Trump and his pathetic excuse for a campaign to me and my ’68 run. Vote for him. Destroy the republic. I don’t give a rat’s ass. I’m dead, remember? But just stop saying he’s reminiscent of me.