Apprentice Trump Quotes

All of the women on The Apprentice flirted with me - consciously or unconsciously. That's good to be expected.

The Apprentice delivered the central sales pitch of free-market theory, telling viewers that by unleashing your most selfish and ruthless side, you are actually a hero—creating jobs and fueling growth. Don’t be nice, be a killer.

He watched a lot of cable news and did not like what President Obama was doing. He would have fired Mr. Obama from The Apprentice.

The world is burning, and yet the firelight illuminates the way out. The times are dire, even catastrophic. Nonetheless we can sense a grand awakening, a growing realization all around the globe that “people have the power, to dream, to rule, to wrestle the world from fools” in the prophetic words of Patti Smith.

The Trump of The Apprentice—steely, decisive, well versed in the ways of business and of the world—was a creation of the producers of the program.

The president-elect approached the ten-week transition as a casting call for a new season of The Apprentice, the NBC reality show that had made him a household name.

People who work in the news media do not watch The Apprentice because of what’s been happening in the news media for a number of years, causing all of us who work in it to never want to hear the words “You’re fired” again. This was a mistake. Donald Trump, the actor who plays “Donald Trump,” appeared on The Apprentice for eleven years. At its peak, the show had 20 million viewers. And Trump is a good actor. Donald Trump is almost as good as Alec Baldwin at being Donald Trump.

Donald Trump was appearing on cable news channels to peddle conspiracy theories about Barack Obama’s religion and place of birth. It was 2011. The Apprentice was winding down and struggling. Like anyone, Donald Trump wanted to stay on television, so he was trying out some new ways of doing so, such as musing about running for president and/or just wandering onto cable news sets to tell obvious lies without any credentials other than that he was a (supposedly) rich white man who wanted to talk right now.

At the time, casting Trump as host was seen as a huge gamble. He had been labeled a “D-lister”—someone who lost all his money, a clownlike figure who couldn’t be taken seriously. Supervising editor of The Apprentice Jonathon Braun told the New Yorker, “We knew Trump was a fake… but we made him out to be the most important person in the world, making the court jester the king.

I’ve been cast as the villain since my first day on television, and I nurtured that persona because it worked for my Hollywood career. That was fine for a reality TV star. But people didn’t want to see a reality star in the White House—I mean, other than Trump himself. It’s time to tell my story. It’s a good one. No doubt, you’ve come here with prejudice about who you think I am. But all I’m asking is that you hear me out. Part One The Apprentice Years

TCA pretends to be about raising money for charity. That’s true, but only so far. If I had not taken time off from the Penn & Teller show to do The Celebrity Apprentice—if Teller and I had just done our show, gotten usual pay—I could have donated four times the amount of money that Trump had pledged to give my charity if I won the whole damn shooting match. Opportunity Village, “my” charity that helps intellectually disabled adults to enter society, got a lot of attention because I was on The Celebrity Apprentice, and that does count for something. And when I was “fired,” my real bosses at Caesars, who own the Rio and the Penn & Teller Theater, said, “Oh, you wanted a quarter million for Opportunity Village? We don’t have to do some jive TV show; we’ll just write a check.” They wrote the full winning amount to Opportunity Village and everyone was happy.

own “empire” consisted of increasingly desperate branding opportunities such as Trump Steaks, Trump Vodka, and Trump University. That made him an easy target for Burnett. Both Donald and the viewers were the butt of the joke that was The Apprentice, which, despite all evidence to the contrary, presented him as a legitimately successful tycoon.

Apprentice,

The impact of The Apprentice is possibly the most underappreciated aspect of Trump’s presidential rise. For

The Apprentice trust-washed Trump’s criminal enterprises to an unsuspecting public.

2006 Apprentice episode, Trump announced the debut of a new property: Trump SoHo. “When it’s completed in 2008,” Trump declared, “this brilliant $370 million work of art will be an awe-inspiring masterpiece.”14

In 2006—the same year Trump SoHo was showcased on The Apprentice, the same year Sater took the Trump children to the Kremlin, and the same year Manafort moved into Trump Tower—

The Apprentice is a show built on a lie and the willingness of ordinary Americans to buy into that lie—that Trump is a respected businessman running legitimate enterprises. It is the same lie upon which the Trump presidency is based.

The Apprentice conditioned Americans to accept fraud as entertainment, to expect the reputational rehab of ruined celebrities, and to not consider that behind the fakeness of the show lay something very dark and real. In 2015, after Trump launched his campaign by calling Mexicans rapists and murderers, NBC canceled The Apprentice on moral grounds. Freed from his contract, Trump continued his reality show through cable news, which lacked the fleeting fortitude of NBC. In the end, The Apprentice canceled America.

If you really want to know," she said, "I wrote about Donald Trump." Tim's immediate sense of relief only lasted a second or two. "Donald Trump? Are you kidding me?" "He's cool," she said. "He's not cool, Abby. Trust me on this one." "Yah-huh," she insisted. "He's totally cool on The Apprentice." "I can't believe Donald Trump is your hero." "I didn't say he was my hero. I just said I admire him." "For what?" "Come on, Dad. Everybody admires him. He's got a skyscraper, a private jet, and his own TV show. He can do whatever he wants.

But it wasn’t just Fox. On March 23, just after we’d gone to war in Libya, he surfaced on ABC’s The View, saying, “I want him to show his birth certificate. There’s something on that birth certificate that he doesn’t like.” On NBC, the same network that aired Trump’s reality show The Celebrity Apprentice in prime time and that clearly didn’t mind the extra publicity its star was generating, Trump told a Today show host that he’d sent investigators to Hawaii to look into my birth certificate. “I have people that have been studying it, and they cannot believe what they’re finding.” Later, he’d tell CNN’s Anderson Cooper, “I’ve been told very recently, Anderson, that the birth certificate is missing. I’ve been told that it’s not there and it doesn’t exist.” Outside the Fox universe, I couldn’t say that any mainstream journalists explicitly gave credence to these bizarre charges. They all made a point of expressing polite incredulity, asking Trump, for example, why he thought George Bush and Bill Clinton had never been asked to produce their birth certificates. (He’d usually reply with something along the lines of “Well, we know they were born in this country.” ) But at no point did they simply and forthrightly call Trump out for lying or state that the conspiracy theory he was promoting was racist. Certainly, they made little to no effort to categorize his theories as beyond the pale—like alien abduction or the anti-Semitic conspiracies in The Protocols of the Elders of Zion. And the more oxygen the media gave them, the more newsworthy they appeared.

Hungry Zelensky, Biden is dreaming! And Trump, Putin is crazy… Satan’s NATO apprentices, nuclear war prophesied… Peace no one ever gives to anyone! Bat Roscoe P0etЪ Rosen Markov Bulgaria 2024

I knew the Boss was in the crowd as the guest of Lally Weymouth, daughter of the legendary Washington Post owner Katharine Graham, and it was easy to spot Trump’s orange coif sticking out like a sore thumb in the sea of tuxedos and formal dresses, especially when Obama began to rip into the Celebrity Apprentice star by mocking his presidential aspirations.

After witnessing Donald Trump's rise, presidency, and fall up close, I now believe the greatest threat to American democracy in this century will come from within. A widening cabal of democratic leaders here at home have exploited our political climate and are already mimicking Donald Trump. I've met them on the campaign trail as they run for local, state, and federal office. They're winning more elections than you think. The influence of Trump's example has created an opening for his apprentices to engage in abuses of power by using America's public offices to promote their own self-interests and to silence objectors. We can hold the spread of political extremism, but it will be a once-in-a-generation challenge.

Come Clean with God It is a trustworthy statement, deserving full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, among whom I am foremost of all. —1 TIMOTHY 1:15 NASB     One of the most watched TV series in recent years has been Donald Trump’s The Apprentice. The highlight of the program is when Mr. Trump delights in saying, “You’re fired!” This format has been so well received in America that other networks quickly introduced their versions. While we never want to hear our bosses utter, “You’re fired!” it could happen. But thankfully, we will only hear Jesus say, “You’re hired.” He gives us new life. But in order for us to be hired, we must humble ourselves and come clean with God. The apostle Paul had the same dilemma when he was challenged to deal with God’s grace. Some of these struggles can be found in his writings: • 1 Corinthians 15:9—I am the least of all the apostles. • Ephesians 3:8—I am the least deserving Christian there is. • 1 Timothy 1:15—I am the worst sinner of all. Paul was humbled by his past and wanted to change his direction in life. At one time in my life I had to make a decision. I had to let old things pass away and then turn to eternal values. As I faced decisions about how I lived and what I wanted, I had to ask, How do I come close to God? Examine Paul’s challenge in 1 Timothy 2:1-4: Here are my directions: Pray much for others; plead for God’s mercy upon them; give thanks for all he is going to do for them.   Pray in this way for kings and all others who are in authority over us, or are in places of high responsibility, so that we can live in peace and quietness, spending our time in godly living and thinking much about the Lord. This is good and pleases God our Savior, for he longs for all to be saved (TLB). Paul gives us three very valuable challenges and instructions: (1) pray for your needs, (2) pray for others, and (3) pray for thanksgiving. Notice that we are instructed to go from our internal needs first and then move to prayers for others and then thanksgiving to God. We are a very narcissistic

From a raw political standpoint, Trump’s decision to adopt a set of views that offended and alienated minority voters, ugly though it was, turned out well for him. He would soon go further, broadening his attacks to include illegal immigrants. Trump did so at precisely the moment when Republican leaders, led by party chairman Reince Priebus (Trump’s future chief of staff), released an “autopsy” of Mitt Romney’s defeat that included a detailed plan for how the party could recover. Its most important recommendation was that Republicans embrace comprehensive immigration reform in order to broaden their appeal to minority voters. In so many words, Republican leaders were telling their rank and file that they needed to be more like Trump during his Apprentice glory days—while Trump was arriving at the opposite conclusion and, with Bannon’s eager encouragement, doing everything he could to build a political movement around white identity politics. A wily

As unlikely as it sounds from the vantage point of today, Trump and The Apprentice, up through the end of the decade, were considered by advertisers and audiences alike to be a triumph of American multiculturalism.

As he broadcast his birther charge against Obama, Nielsen ratings for The Celebrity Apprentice took a sharp turn for the worse. “Given the downward trend of Trump’s ratings among his current, liberal audience,” joked one Republican media buyer, “maybe he’s running as a Republican to add a little bipartisan diversity to his viewership.

Trump’s self-conception as the all-powerful Apprentice boss blinded him to a fundamental truth of the modern presidency: that the president needs Congress more than Congress needs the president.

And the day Trump announced he was running, I admitted to a couple of Times editors that I’d watched eight seasons of The Apprentice and that we should do a story about it. They told me political reporters wouldn’t be writing about Trump. “We have enough candidates to cover,” one editor said. “Let the TV writers do it.

Trump, in a smart move, picked up his media reputation and relocated it from a hypercritical New York to a more value-free Hollywood, becoming the star of his own reality show, The Apprentice, and embracing a theory that would serve him well during his presidential campaign: in flyover country, there is no greater asset than celebrity. To be famous is to be loved—or at least fawned over.

He went on to make a series of preposterous-sounding claims—almost all of which would be borne out in the end: he would win a larger share of African Americans and Hispanics than Romney had (they loved him on The Apprentice!); he would open up new electoral college paths for the Republican Party; he would defeat Hillary Clinton; and he would do all this without raising the $1 billion to $2 billion that modern presidential campaigns were thought to require. Trump didn’t have the typical qualifications of a major-party presidential nominee, this he admitted. But

The Oval Office itself had been used by prior occupants as the ultimate power symbol, a ceremonial climax. But as soon as Trump arrived, he moved in a collection of battle flags to frame him sitting at his desk, and the Oval immediately became the scene of a daily Trump cluster-fuck. It’s likely that more people had easy access to this president than any president before. Nearly all meetings in the Oval with the president were invariably surrounded and interrupted by a long list of retainers—indeed, everybody strove to be in every meeting. Furtive people skulked around without clear purpose: Bannon invariably found some reason to study papers in the corner and then to have a last word; Priebus kept his eye on Bannon; Kushner kept constant tabs on the whereabouts of the others. Trump liked to keep Hicks, Conway, and, often, his old Apprentice sidekick Omarosa Manigault—now with a confounding White House title—in constant hovering presence. As always, Trump wanted an eager audience, encouraging as many people as possible to make as many attempts as possible to be as close to him as possible. In time, however, he would take derisive notice of those who seemed most eager to suck up to him.

Donald is going to have trouble going back to his normal life when the show is over because starring in The Apprentice is like being on cocaine constantly,” said Solovey. “He’s going to have a hard time leaving that behind. You can just see it in him. He’s got a big ego.”53

The sleek black aircraft reminded her of the fancy one she’d seen on Donald Trump’s Apprentice show.

Trump says NBC paid him $65 million for Celebrity Apprentice in both 2011 and 2012 (NBC, in a written statement, said that figure was wildly inflated). If

Then I asked him the question that would change my life. “Mr. Trump,” I said, “one of the things people love about you is you speak your mind and you don’t use a politician’s filter. However, that is not without its downsides. In particular, when it comes to women. You’ve called women you don’t like ‘fat pigs,’ ‘dogs,’ ‘slobs,’ and ‘disgusting animals.’” “Only Rosie O’Donnell,” he quipped. The crowd chuckled at his Rosie O’Donnell comment. I passed no judgment on the audience, but I was not going to join them in laughing. “For the record,” I said, “it was well beyond Rosie O’Donnell.” Trump knew it too. “I’m sure it was,” he said. We had fact-checked every word of that question. Rosie had, no question, been vicious toward Trump too, and if it had only been her, I would not have asked that question. But what I’d seen in my research binder was that he’d made a habit of attacking women regularly with these sorts of terms—mocking their looks and sexualizing them. The women he’d belittled in the terms I used in my question included, but were not limited to, Arianna Huffington, Bette Midler, New York Times columnist Gail Collins, and a lawyer requesting a prearranged break to pump breast milk for her baby (“disgusting”). There were many, many others. “Your Twitter account,” I continued, “has several disparaging comments about women’s looks. You once told a contestant on Celebrity Apprentice it would be a pretty picture to see her on her knees. Does that sound to you like the temperament of a man we should elect as president, and how will you answer the charge from Hillary Clinton, who is likely to be the Democratic nominee, that you are part of the ‘war on women’?” First Trump said that we’d gotten too politically correct in this country. And then this: “What I say is what I say. And honestly, Megyn, if you don’t like it, I’m sorry. I’ve been very nice to you, although I could probably maybe not be, based on the way you have treated me. But I wouldn’t do that.” He looked angry, I thought. After all my planning for that moment, I was relieved that he hadn’t attacked me personally in his response. Still, I felt his anger, and understood him perfectly. He was making a veiled but very clear threat. I’d known Trump for several years by this point. We’d had a mostly good—but also complicated—relationship. Seared into my mind was a threat he’d made to me by phone just four days earlier to “unleash” what he called his “beautiful Twitter account” on me. I expected I would find out what he meant by that soon, and indeed I would.

Is Melania Trump going to say: You’re fired!

The government appears to be in the process of firing President Trump.

Trump rarely sounded as comfortable as he did in the New York studio of bawdy shock jock Howard Stern, sometimes bringing along his children Ivanka and Don Jr. to join him on air as they became more active on The Apprentice. In one exchange, Trump raised no objections when Stern referred to Ivanka Trump as a “piece of ass.” To Stern, Trump talked about how much he loved sex, the number of partners he had at a single time, the way he liked to wander backstage at his beauty pageants while the contestants were getting dressed. “You see these incredible looking women, and so, I sort of get away with things like that,” he said of his behavior at the pageants.

It held many years’ worth of memorabilia, chairs shaped like leather baseball gloves, and an odd selection of B-list celebrities of the day—reality-show players like a runner-up on American Idol and the then–Apprentice star, Donald Trump.

And then there are those—CIA officials among them—who suspect that Russia’s leverage on Trump, and the collusion between them, has always been hiding right in front of us.

that Comey argued that it might be better if only one person had that conversation with the president-elect. Brennan, who had been more reluctant than the others to include the Steele material, saw no reason to give the document additional credence by sending an intelligence official in to talk about it with Trump. At one point, he pulled Clapper aside, telling him, “You don’t want to go anywhere near it.” Assigning Comey this task, however, created other risks. With

able to substantiate them or cross the publication threshold. Now, because of Comey’s conversation at Trump Tower, news organizations had reason to reconsider. Salacious memos circulating in Washington were one thing; the director of the FBI briefing the incoming president on those allegations was news and word leaked swiftly. Comey had in effect triggered the launch.

Two speakers in particular tapped into this mood, all but endorsing mob rule: Michael Flynn and Donald Trump. While at DIA, behind the scenes, Flynn had encouraged

Russia, if you’re listening, I hope you’re able to find the thirty thousand emails that are missing,” Trump said, referring to the messages that Clinton had deleted from her private server. “I think you will probably be rewarded mightily by our press.” There was a hush in the hotel lobby, broken by the exclamation of a single editor: “Holy shit.” Hours later, GRU hackers for the first time launched spearphishing attacks against private email accounts used by Clinton’s personal office and seventy-six addresses associated with the campaign.

The president made clear that he was bothered that the cloud was still hovering “because I have been very loyal to you, very loyal.” Then, in a cryptic reference to their tense dinner in the Green Room, Trump said, “We had that thing, you know.” Comey didn’t know, but the president’s meaning seemed obvious. Trump was remembering his demand for loyalty and Comey’s counteroffer of “honest loyalty.” The gap in their understandings of that Green Room compromise was about to have serious consequences. It was the last time the two men would speak.

18/2018: Tom Arnold's "The Hunt for the Trump Tapes" Debuts on Viceland Described as ‘All the President’s Men’ meets ‘Curb Your Enthusiasm,’ Tom Arnold set about to track down and obtain every embarrassing audio or videotape he could find on Donald J. Trump. Despite outreach to everyone from Howard Stern to TMZ to the Apprentice producers, Arnold came up with very little and the show's eight-episode series finally came to an end.

As inane as he looked, it was the best investment of time and money of Musk’s life, his net worth rising $200 billion by the end of 2024, with tens of billions after that and more to come in the future as a loud part of the administration as “efficiency czar,” who would remake the government in his image. That appointment was announced soon after Trump won, in yet another stunt-like manner, as the head of DOGE—the Department of Government Efficiency—with fellow look-at-me billionaire Vivek Ramaswamy. I quickly dubbed the effort the Department of Grandstanding Edgelords, which, given its undefined power, staff, and efficacy, sounded more like something out of an episode of The Apprentice.

During Trump’s first term as president, I had often wondered how much he’d changed as a person from when, at Newsweek, I’d interviewed him at the pinnacle of his reality TV success. It turned out he hadn’t changed at all through any of it. Trump presented a conundrum for a reporter: he might have been the sower of chaos all over the globe, and he certainly

lacked empathy, but he could also be funny and engaging in conversation. But regardless of what version of Trump I saw in all our time together, it became clear to me in our first post-presidency meeting that there is no way to reasonably interview Trump as a politician. He’s not a politician. There’s no way to ask him about governing. He’s not able to govern. There’s no point in trying to pin him down on his hopes for another term. He doesn’t care about the specifics of the plot during his time in the White House—he just wants to get renewed for another season.

Donald Trump brought an assortment of hangers-on into the White House. He collected assistants throughout the years, building an island of misfit apprentices.

I hit the jackpot with The Apprentice. Trump and I both did. Our connection to the show, and to each other, was sealed.

Left unsaid was that he had also signed a secret intelligence memorandum, a “finding,” authorizing the NSA, CIA, and U.S. Cyber Command to carry out a covert operation involving the deployment of implants in critical Russian networks that in this case could function like bombs, exploding key nodes of Russian infrastructure when detonated. The plan would take more than a year to implement and was aimed at putting the United States in position to inflict immediate damage in the event of a cyber conflict with Moscow. It would be up to Donald Trump to use it—or not.

for as long as I’ve known the man, being offensive, inappropriate, and off-color is normal for him. The longer you live in Trumpworld, the more normal things like a work party at the Playboy Mansion seem to you. The Apprentice events were always populated with celebrities and models and his family. It wasn’t so far a leap to include nude models and porn stars. I made the rounds, skirting the grotto because God knows what went on in there, and talked to anyone who wasn’t in a thong.

The racial tension in our nation was being played up for ratings on the show. Mark Burnett was the mastermind of creating conflict. Burnett had been in the British military, where he’d learned tactics like creating conflict to divide the enemy and conquer them. I’d been involved in the franchise from the very beginning, and I saw how he divided teams by gender, by class, by race. He honed this type of conflict-baiting on the social experiment of Survivor, and he naturally brought those tactics to The Apprentice.

The O’Jays sent a cease-and-desist letter to Congressman John Mica (R-FL) and copied Paul Manafort via their attorney, demanding that the campaign stop using their 1972 hit “Love Train” (which we’d changed to “Trump Train”) or 1973’s “For the Love of Money,” which had been The Apprentice theme song for fourteen seasons, at any Trump or Republican rally or event. The O’Jays’s Walter Williams and Eddie Levert said in a press statement, “We don’t appreciate having our music associated with a campaign that is hurtful to so many with whom we have common ground. . . . Our music, and most especially ‘Love Train,’ is about bringing people together, not building walls.” I was devastated—not only were the O’Jays one of my favorite groups, they were friends from Ohio, and I participated every year in their charity events. That one hit close to home.

I silenced my phone and walked down to the fifth floor of Trump Tower, which once housed the set of The Apprentice. It was now a large, open, warehouse-style room, with some tables and chairs and a portable basketball hoop in the center, which had been brought in by campaign aides as a way to blow off steam. I grabbed a ball and shot by myself for a while

To a contestant on Trump’s show, The Apprentice: “It must be a pretty picture, you dropping to your knees.”55

I am a sworn constable,” I said. “And that makes me an officer of the law. And I am an apprentice, which makes me a keeper of the sacred flame, but most of all I am a free man of London and that makes me a Prince of the City.” I jabbed a finger at Tyburn. “No double first from Oxford trumps that.