Joy Behar - The Great Gasbag

Contents

An A-to-Z Study Guide to Surviving Trump World

Dedicated to the

65,853,216

American voters who knew better.

In 2015, when the presidential campaigns first began, my agent called me begging, begging me to write a political book. I told him I was too busy. Then he called my manager and started begging him to get me to write a book. He, too, told him I was busy. Then he called my husband, who slept through the call. Ditto, my daughter. Then the sly puss called my brilliant (then-four-year-old) grandson, who took the call. But the kid was slyer than he was. He told him, My nanas a busy woman. Shes on TV every day, she does live performances and occasional film work; she doesnt have time to write a book. But Ill tell you what, if something really weird happens, like that crazy guy with the orange face wins, call us back.

Well, on November 9, 2016, the day after the election, my phone rang again. I didnt need to be begged. I didnt even need to be asked. By the time I woke up that morning, the horror of what happened the night before had already sunk in. When I looked in the bathroom mirror, instead of seeing the gorgeous punim you all see on TV every day looking back at me, I saw Edvard Munchs The Scream. It was time to put pen to paper.

But what to write? Given the mercurial nature of Trump and the chaos of his campaign, I knew I couldnt write a traditional book, because in Trump World, like in the Emerald City of Oz, things around here change so quickly that if I wrote something in the morning, it might be out of date by dinnertime. In fact, despite all due diligence and with an eye on timeliness, Im pretty sure that by the time you read this, some of the people Ive written about will have: been fired (Sean Spicer), been reassigned (Kellyanne Conway), left the country (Melania), been jailed (General Flynn), or moved to a kibbutz in Israel (the Kushners).

What to write came to me quite by coincidence. I was sitting in a Starbucks across from The View studio one day, on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, when I overheard a man and a woman talking. (And by overheard, I mean I was eavesdropping.) Since 83 percent of the people in that neighborhood are psychiatrists, psychologists, therapists, or social workers, I thought their conversation would be worth overhearing. The woman said, I saw an accident on Eighty-Sixth Street this morning. The man replied, You wanna talk about accidents? Trump has the nuclear codes. He might accidentally set off a missile. So, what happened on Eighty-Sixth Street? The woman answered, A taxi ran a red light and hit a pole. And the man said, You wanna talk red? Trumps in bed with the Russians! Hows that for red?

It was like word association. Suddenly, it dawned on meDr. Freud and the woman with the decaf latte gave me the concept for this book: an alphabetical guide to Trump World.

Its perfect for me; I used to be a New York City public school teacher. (I taught delinquents the difference between who and whom.)

So, now that I knew what the book was, I had to figure out what to call it. Choosing a title for a book is almost as important as the book itself, because if the fifteen words on the cover dont work, nobody will read the fifty thousand words inside. Think about itIf Uncle Toms Cabin had been called Uncle Toms Condo, do you think it would have become an American classic? Would Harriet Beecher Stowe have gotten a three-book deal and a TV movie offer from Lifetime? No. Green Eggs and Ham made Dr. Seuss a literary giant. I dont think Egg White Omelet and Chicken would have even put him on the map.

Needless to say, a lot of thought went into choosing the title for this book. I knew it was going to be subtitled An A-to-Z Study Guide to Surviving Trump World, but I wanted the main title to be both clever and on point. And since Im a fan of the classics, thats where I started. Here are some other titles I considered before deciding on The Great Gasbag:

Moby Dickhead

Con with the Wind

Pride and Very Prejudiced

Catcher in the Lie

Not Such Great Expectations

The Age of Ignorance

Gullibles Travels

A Farewell to the Constitution

The Son-in-Law Also Rises

War and Hairpiece

Maybe Ill use one of those titles for the follow-up book. Well see. Anyway, I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it. (And by fun, I mean the catharsis of writing saved me a fortune in therapy bills.)

Happy reading!

Joy

P.S. My agent didnt actually beg me to write this book. Thats an alternative fact, something you can read about in the As.

Dear President Trump (no, I cant bring myself to do it)

Dear Mr. President (same thing, ucch)

Dear Donald , (even though I was at one of his weddings, it feels too informal)

Dear Orange Devil (too much, too soon)

Dear Mr. Trump (boring, but whatever),

First, let me say that I dont imagine youll read this book because I know youre way too busy watching TV and tweeting, and also because its not written in Russian. I also know that you have thin skin and dont react well to jokes made at your expense, so on the off chance that Kellyanne or Ivanka tells you about it, please note that The Great Gasbag is satire, a protected literary genre, and that I, Joy Behar, am a satirist. If you dont believe me, ask my fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Pellegra, who called me the Jonathan Swift of P.S. 168. (I dont know where Mrs. Pellegra is these days, but Mount Carmel Cemetery might be a good place to start looking.)

The definition of satire is:

A genre of literature... in which vices, follies, abuses, and shortcomings are held up to ridicule, ideally with the intent of shaming individuals, corporations, government, or society itself into improvement. Although satire is usually meant to be humorous, its greater purpose is often constructive social criticism, using wit to draw attention to both particular and wider issues in society.

Notice how it says satire is used as a tool to improve things? Thats important, not just because it explains intent, but because it means that in addition to my being a comedian, talk show host, and satirist, Im also a giver. And if you dont believe me, ask my old Girl Scout troop leader, Mrs. Defazio. (I dont know where she is these days, but you can probably get her number from Mrs. Pellegra.)

Happy reading!

Joy

A is for Acid Reflux. Which is what 65,853,216 Americans get every time Trump holds a televised pep rally or press conference. Last week I had some friends over to my house for supper. Just as we sat down, The Donald came on TV, and all of a sudden eight stomachs rumbled and roared simultaneouslyit was like listening to the flatulence scene in Blazing Saddles. Within two seconds of Orangeface showing up on-screen, my friends were yelling, Gino, Im gassy, and Angie, the sausage and peppers are coming up. And they hadnt even eaten yet!

A is for Alimony. I have not seen the paperwork on any of Donalds divorces, but Ill bet hes spending a lot more on Valentines Day gifts for Vladimir Putin than he is on alimony for Ivana and Marla combined.

A is for Alls Noisy on the Western Front. Remember how nice and quiet things were before November 8, 2016? No chaos, no crazy, no wall-to-wall havoc. For sixteen years, the country was pretty much scandal-free. Other than George W. Bush invading the wrong country and Dick Cheney shooting his BFF in the face, things were calm. The only scandal No Drama Obama faced was the birther idiocy, which was just racist nonsense created by Trump. But since The Donald took over, weve had more noise and commotion than a Lamaze class at the Duggars house.