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Ivanka Trump's New Book Is Definitely Something She Wrote All By Herself

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Drop what you are doing and go buy Ivanka's new book -- at least if you CARE ABOUT YOUR LIFE. You know who's a great success? Ivanka Trump. Started at the bottom, now she's here. And she has -- very kindly and entirely altruistically -- collected all of the wisdom in her ladybrain to share with us to make *us* successful too! She relates anecdotes like that time in undergrad when Anna Wintour called her personally to offer a job (which happens to everyone) that Ivanka turned down because her real true love was real estate: how relatable is that content snippet I ask you?


I am going to be so much better off now that I have found out what a chump I was with this whole book-writing thing! My dumb ass actually wrote a book! And I could have misquoted about five hundred people and put chapter titles in it and flogged it via the White House press service instead! I did not Work Smarter, Not Harder (which is Chapter Four) and that perhaps is why my book is not on any bestseller lists two years after it came out!

Anyway, this Trump creation that we are all generously calling a "book" is for WOMEN so the page before a new chapter is pink. CHICKS FUCKING LOVE PINK.

This page is fucking pink. And there's a hashtag. Because sure.

In accordance with Ivanka's advice I am going to break this baby down for you into "bite-sized, snackable pieces of information" though I am having a bit of a quandary here: See, Ivanka barely wrote three words. The prose is -- well, it's not prose. It is a five-day-old word salad that was never refrigerated after serving. It's a collection of vaguely connected letters that when put together form a narcissistic gate to hell, which I am defining here as "the state of having just read Ivanka Trump's new book." It would be a truly impressive effort had it been written by a fourth-grader. It is a collection of bullshit and tripe in which one key concept turns into another with no friction because there is only one fucking key concept in this book, which is: You should give Ivanka Trump your money in exchange for this book.

Anyway, Ivanka tells us to do things like Write Down Our Goals (she wants to be able to touch her toes!) and Dream Big and Resign Gracefully (which is a real bit of advice one assumes she hasn't given her father yet) and she advises us to Be Authentic To Create Connection and to Elevate Your Meetings.

This is a 212-page collection of comically useless pablum and non-sequiturs, strung together in no kind of coherent fashion and spruced up with a bunch of fancy fonts and headers to pad out the page count. She misquotes Maya Angelou right after quoting Mika Brzezinski. I have learned more by taking heavy drugs and watching squirrels frolic in the park than I did by reading this object that bears all the characteristics of a book and yet still somehow manages not to be a book. This sorry excuse for a tree massacre forcibly reminds me of that part of Billy Madison during the quiz show where the principal explains we are all now dumber for having heard that answer.

One assumes that women who work also bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan

I used to think Ivanka Trump was an actual person, albeit one whose life and priorities are different from mine. Now I think perhaps she's a badly programmed cyborg. No human could agree to publish this. This is the Sea Monkeys of books, where the cover promises to teach you something but when it shows up in the mail it's a bunch of fucking brine shrimp.

There is a single paragraph that shines with truth and clarity. It is, of course, a quote. A dude called Adam Rich says "When we're focused not just on who we are, but who we sincerely want to be, we'll push ourselves to become our ideal selves. We won't be looking to make our existing selves more transparent. We'll be trying to become a higher version of ourselves."

I can report back, faithful readers, that anyone who picks up this book will make it about twenty minutes before they'll need to become a higher version of themselves.

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