Make Trump's Greenwich Mansion Great Again
You can now own the presumptive Republican nominee for President's former sprawl, and who knows what awaits you inside.
Today, Donald Trump stands alone as the GOP's only hope to wrest power back from those dastardly Democrats, and, as he's been threatening, "Make America great again." We shall see. In the meanwhile, your opportunity has finally arrived to claim and refurbish the real estate tycoon-turned-politician's first palatial mansion of note, right here in good ol' Greenwich, CT.
Per TopTenRealEstateDeals.com, the enviable 5.8-acre estate, purchased circa 1982 by a then-35-year-old Trump and ex-wife Ivana for a relatively scant $4 million, is now on the market for the recently reduced asking price of $45 million. For those leery of looking after property that, according to the afore-linked summary, was once "dripping in gold leaf," take heart: In 1998, Ivana sold the gaudy hunk of earth for $15 million to owners who reportedly eased up on the embellishments and converted it into something of a residential spa.
However, that hasn't stopped us from hoping that whomever inherits this grand totem to absolute ego stumbles across some choice emblems of Trump's younger days as an imperial neophyte, like these below. And then maybe if we're lucky, his obscene Bedford pad will go to the almost-highest bidder next.
• Act fast, and a prototype of Trump: The Game, featuring an early trademark on his patented employee-dismissal methods, could be lurking in a basement pile.
• Or, if you haven't had enough of Donald's boasting on the campaign trail (nevermind the media's constant syndication of said tangents), perhaps an unopened first-edition talking Trump doll (Apprentice-approved) would miraculously surface from beneath some forlorn floorboard.
• But don't forget about Ivana's 1992 "novel," For Love Alone. The ashes of an early galley, perhaps burned in effigy by a fuming hubby (Trump lost the Greenwich house to his ex as part of a '91 divorce settlement), could still be smoldering in a dormant fireplace.
• And lastly, how could anyone pass up a chance to sleep in the very master bedroom where Donald once laid his combed-over hair to rest each night, knowing full well that behind the headboard and discreetly tucked inside an inconspicuous central-air vent might be a sad, oily cardboard box left over from he and Ivanka's vaunted Pizza Hut campaign. (And they thought Kasich didn't conquer a slice the right way.)
Your move, prospective buyers.
Homepage photo courtesy of dan milstien for vista pictures