V
Victory/Victoria
Surrounded by people who fail him, either through stupidity (Junior, Giuliani, Eric), betrayal (Twitter, FOX, Eric again), or blurting out the inconvenient truth after we told Eric sixteen times to shut up (guess), Trump realizes the only person he can count on is himself.
After Barron incautiously bumps into the President in a hallway, Trump remembers using the Barron pseudonym to feed news stories of himself to the totally unsuspecting press. Thinking his disguise skills are as good as his self-assessment of all his other talents, he creates "Victoria." His new press secretary. "Victoria" will finally put the media in their place, ensuring his reelection.
"Victoria" appears, introduces herself, and begins setting the record straight. All the record. Every slight against The Donald, real and imagined, going back as far as his early roasting in Doonesbury, is detailed, explained, corrected and put to eternal rest. There will be no further discussion on any old fake news after this, "she" declares.
After the marathon revelations the White House press corps, tired and a little frightened, begin asking questions. New questions, in accordance with the stated guidelines.
Sir, does this mean you now accept transexuals? Or at least crossdressers?
Sir, does Ivanka know you're wearing her lipstick?
Mr. President, are you challenging old fat drag queens to recreate your signature look? Because somewhere, there's a 'Divine' fan screaming, "My Moment To Shine!" Seriously, they're on YouTube already.
Sir, I have eighty two messages from my publisher, I'd like to read them to you. "What the fuck?" I think that's everyone's question, sir, what the fuck?
Mr. President, just how far down does the disguise go, sir? I mean, obviously you're wearing a bra and a girdle. But sir? Boxers or thong?