I am as patriotic a red-blooded American as any billionaire with an Eastern European wife, but sometimes you've got to know when to abandon ship. My advice: now is the time to convert any dollars you have left into euros. And I'm not talking about at the currency exchange; I mean with a little craftiness at home. Behold: The Donald J. Trump I Love My Country But I'm Getting Out Now Dollar to Euro Conversion Kit.

-- Start with a $20 bill if you can find one.

-- The 20 Euro is narrower than a $20 so use scissors to trim approximately 11.5mm off each side.

-- The 20 Euro is taller than a $20 so you must stretch the $20 by flattening it out. I like to use a pasta roller, preferably imported from Italy.

-- The $20 has a picture of Andrew Jackson, but the Euro has a picture of nobody because Europeans have no heroes and only like buildings. You will need to draw something like a wi ndow or a pillar over top of Mr. Jackson.

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I'm looking outside the triple-glazed diamond-encrusted floor-to-ceiling windows from the penthouse of my new Trump Thunder 212-story high-rise and you know what I see? A whole bunch of chicken littles running around squawking like hogs in a cornfield. I don't get it. It makes no sense. The only falling dollar up here is the crisp Benjamin I toss out the window each morning to see which way the wind is blowing.

When it comes to making money, my interest rate is always high. The only weak growth this quarter was last night in my bedroom, but you know that can happen to anyone. Not that it's any of your business. The problem is you people. All your moping. Credit crisis this and bankruptcy that. You're bringing me down.

One thing I like to do to cope with fuel prices approaching $4 a gallon is to remember that I'm filthy stinking rich. I remind myself that not everyone is so dirty wealthy, and also that I should probably sell oil. If I'm not already. Am I? I will have to check on that. It's a great idea. Love it.

But I do believe it is important to conserve fuel. If I am going to live forever as planned, Earth's precious resources are going to be important (to me) for a very long time. So I've made some simple lifestyle changes that really anyone could do:

• I cut back on firing people in person. Terminating them via videoconferencing is a great energy-saving measure. Also, because employees consume resources, I fire extra people now. A good rule of thumb is that for every one underperformer you need to cut loose, get rid of two more people at the same time. Any two, doesn't matter who. You'll really see results quickly. I did and I love it.
• When I gas up the 727, I no longer top off the tank. When you top off, you always spill some extra fuel on the tarmac. Over time it really adds up.
• I don't get married as often as I used to. Elaborate weddings at Mar-a-Lago chew through power like crazy. Sometimes keeping one wife for ten or fifteen years can be almost as good as two or three.

I know it is hard to make sacrifices, but all have to pitch in. I'm doing my part so you better do yours.

I'm a big admirer of the journalism over at stuff.co.nz, a quality publication by any measure. I was shocked to read that Heather Mills is trying to get into my pants pocket. The pocket where I keep my wallet. My big, thick wallet. You can see the bulge from across a room. It's enormous. It really is. Huge.

You see, I hired Heather to judge my Miss USA pageant. Miss USA isn't just about having a pretty face and a great body. It's also about using that pretty face and great body to get rich. Ms. Mills was a natural choice for the part. We did have dinner the other night because she invited me and, let's be honest, free food.

But Heather, I have to tell you -- I just didn't feel it. Something was missing between us. No, it wasn't the leg -- The Donald can get freaky. I'm already married, of course, but it wasn't that either.

Anyway, I'm moving on. My assisant tells me I just received another dinner invitation, this time from a Heatherovna Millsovich. She sounds wonderful already.

Democracy is really a wonderful thing. The voting industry is a THREE BILLION DOLLAR business. But it takes too long and I'm getting bored. Our nation needs someone decisive to choose their leader. One person who will challenge these candidates with repetitive but entertaining tasks. One person to separate the losers from the winner. Fine, I'll do it.

Let's get serious about the final three: Clinton, McCain, and Omarosa. It's a good group.

• Clinton is a tough lady and I like that. She doesn't give up even when she should because she obviously she can't win.
• McCain is a maverick and a straight talker. I am a maverick and a straight talker.
• Omarosa is like a talking dictionary. I like smart people but know-it-alls annoy me.

I've given this a lot of thought. It is not an easy decision. Whoever I hire for President, I'm doing this for you. I stay rich no matter what, just like the founding fathers intended.

Nobody likes rejection but sometimes you have to face the facts, and the fact is that if you've fallen behind on your home payments, you are a complete failure as a human being. It's that simple. You don't deserve a home.

But you have to live somewhere. So I'm willing to give you another chance at my newly launched TRUMP CITY: Luxury tent living for the discriminating deadbeat.

Residents of TRUMP CITY enjoy will all the benefits of upscale living, without the actual amenities.  I'm a direct guy. I'm not pulling any punches here. I created TRUMP CITY for two simple reasons:

1. It feels good to do good. I know a lot of Americans are hurting right now -- even though it is their own fault. 

The finale of my incredibly successful celebrity spin-off reality show is tonight. And I have to pick a winner between country singer Trace Adkins and British tabloid king Piers Morgan.

I don't like country music. Don't like the twang -- sounds like someone can't afford to buy new guitar strings. Don't like the words -- boo hoo, woe is me. Pitiful. Pathetic. I especially don't like the ridiculous hats. Hair is meant to be seen.

But I don't like the British either. Hate them. What are they famous for? Understatement.

So I'm going to flip a coin. Who cares.