Ivana Trump Quotes

Don't get mad, get everything. :-) Ivana Trump

Fiction writing is great, you can make up almost anything.

republishing it himself on Kindle to try to get the word out. In 2015, a Daily Beast reporter wrote a piece detailing the alleged rape of Ivana and was threatened by Trump’s aspiring Roy Cohn replacement, lawyer and future felon Michael Cohen.55

On New Year’s Eve of 1976, Trump proposed to Ivana, later presenting her with a three-carat Tiffany diamond ring. But before there could be a wedding, less than a year after they met, there was the prenup—ultimately, as many as four or five contracts. The negotiations between Trump and Ivana—Roy Cohn urged Donald to begin married life with codified financial arrangements—followed a pattern that came to define Trumpism: boasts of wealth and influence, a highly public airing of grievances, and dramatic battles staged in gossip columns and courtrooms. The marriage would start—and later explode—to the accompaniment of lawyers.

Even as Trump eagerly asked aides to relay information from newspaper headlines, including whether his name was mentioned, he had never shown much interest in books. A cabinet next to his bedside contained a book that Ivana later said she saw him occasionally leafing through: an anthology of Adolf Hitler’s speeches called My New Order. (“It was my friend Marty Davis from Paramount who gave me a copy of Mein Kampf, and he’s a Jew,” Trump claimed when pressed about it by journalist Marie Brenner.

Now Trump just needed somebody to help run it. He consulted friends, colleagues, experts. His choice shocked nearly everyone: he picked his wife, Ivana. She, like Donald, had no experience running a casino. But she did have a sense of style, albeit an expensive sense, and she did have Donald’s trust, at least at the start. He called her “a natural manager.” Some of Trump’s friends later wondered whether he put her there so he could have affairs with women in Manhattan, or to get her away from his construction projects in New York.

is-a-rapist meme ratcheting up, I emailed Trump to ask if he was an imperfect messenger, given his own very public infidelities and his ex-wife, Ivana, recently denying rumors of assault charges against him. “I believe that I am the perfect messenger,” Trump replied, “because I fully understand life and all of its wrinkles.” I forwarded his response to my editors with the very professional subject line “OMG.

Having practiced law for ten years,” I told Mak, “divorce proceedings are notoriously ugly. Spouses often say things that aren’t true and that they live to regret. How did you account for that reality in your reporting?” I also pointed out that Ivana had later recanted her testimony. Mak struggled a bit but handled himself all right. Unlike Trump’s attorney Michael Cohen, who responded to the Daily Beast article with threats and thug tactics. First, Cohen publicly defended Trump by saying, “You cannot rape your spouse. There’s very clear case law.” This is untrue, as any lawyer from this century should know (he was later forced to walk this back). In

Marla was down to earth and soft spoken where Ivana was all flash, arrogance, and spite.

Ivana is almost as competitive as I am and she insists she’s at a disadvantage with the Castle. She says she needs more suites. She isn’t concerned that building the suites will cost $40 million. All she knows is that not having them is hurting her business and making it tougher for her to be number one. I’ll say this much: I wouldn’t bet against her. *

In Barbie's early years, Mattel struggled to make its doll look like a real-life movie star. Today, however, real-life celebrities—as well as common folk—are emulating her. The postsurgical Dolly Parton looks like the post-surgical Ivana Trump looks like the postsurgical Michael Jackson looks like the postsurgical Joan Rivers looks like

Before marriage keep your eyes wide open, after marriage keep them half closed.

Don’t sit around and think about things you can’t change. Focus on being in control now, and in the future.

Wspaniałe włosy to najlepsza zemsta.

A year after the gold lamé shoe, the gift basket I received from Donald and Ivana hit the trifecta: it was an obvious regift, it was useless, and it demonstrated Ivana’s penchant for cellophane. After unwrapping it, I noticed, among the tin of gourmet sardines, the box of table water crackers, the jar of vermouth-packed olives, and a salami, a circular indentation in the tissue paper that filled the bottom of the basket where another jar had once been. My cousin David walked by and, pointing at the empty space, asked, “What was that?” “I have no idea. Something that goes with these, I guess,” I said, holding up the box of crackers. “Probably caviar,” he said, laughing. I shrugged, having no idea what caviar was. I grabbed the basket handle and walked toward the pile of presents I’d stacked next to the stairs. I passed Ivana and my grandmother on the way, lifted the basket, said, “Thanks, Ivana,” and put it on the floor. “Is that yours?” At first I thought she was talking about the gift basket, but she was referring to the copy of Omni magazine that was sitting on top of the stack of gifts I’d already opened. Omni, a magazine of science and science fiction that had launched in October of that year, was my new obsession. I had just picked up the December issue and brought it with me to the House in the hope that between shrimp cocktail and dinner I’d have a chance to finish reading it. “Oh, yeah.” “Bob, the publisher, is a friend of mine.” “No way! I love this magazine.” “I’ll introduce you. You’ll come into the city and meet him.” It wasn’t quite as seismic as being told I was going to meet Isaac Asimov, but it was pretty close. “Wow. Thanks.” I filled a plate and went upstairs to my dad’s room, where he’d been all day, too sick to join us. He was sitting up, listening to his portable radio. I handed the plate to him, but he put it on the small bedside table, not interested. I told him about Ivana’s generous offer. “Wait a second; who does she want to introduce you to?” I would never forget the name. I’d looked at the magazine’s masthead right after speaking to Ivana, and there he was: Bob Guccione, Publisher. “You’re going to meet the guy who publishes Penthouse?” Even at thirteen I knew what Penthouse was. There was no way we could be talking about the same person. Dad chuckled and said, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” And all of a sudden, neither did I.

Donny was going to join the army or some bullshit like that, and Donald and Ivana told him if he did, they’d disown him in a second.

Don't get mad... get everything

When did the KGB open a file on Donald Trump? We don’t know, but Eastern Bloc security service records suggest this may have been as early as 1977. That was the year when Trump married Ivana Zelnickova, a twenty-eight-year-old model from Czechoslovakia. Zelnickova was a citizen of a communist country. She was therefore of interest both to the Czech intelligence service, the StB, and to the FBI and CIA.

To date, Donald Trump has been accused of rape (including by his first wife, Ivana, who later dropped the charges), sexual assault, and sexual harassment by more than two dozen women.

Roy Cohn was dead and no longer a threat, and so Trump exposés abounded as Ivana opened up her own world to the press. These included scathing early 1990s Vanity Fair profiles, including one in which twelve-year-old Donald Trump Jr. told a reporter that Trump did not love him, did not love himself, but only loved his money;52

This past April, when his empire was in danger of collapse, [Donald] Trump isolated himself in a small apartment on a lower floor of Trump Tower. He would lie on his bed, staring at the ceiling, talking into the night on the telephone. The Trumps had separated. . . Ivana began to tell her friends that she was worried about Donald's state of mind. For days, Trump rarely left his building. Hamburgers and French fries were sent up to him from the nearby New York Delicatessen. His body ballooned, his hair curled down his neck. ‘You remind me of Howard Hughes.’ a friend told him. ‘Thanks,' Trump replied, 'I admire him.’” Marie Brenner, “After the Gold Rush,”September 1990