We owe President Trump one thing after Gaza peace deal — our gratitude

Thank you, Mr. President

Not everyone’s going to like this column. Not everyone’s going to like me. Right now I’m down to the dog and my hairdresser. And if I don’t feed my cranky Yorkie even he’s iffy.

So I apologize for those I irritate. But: My opinion is we need a collective prayer of thanks for Donald.

I know him longer than most people are alive. We met lifetimes ago. A nothing special New York political dinner millennia before Melania or Ivana. He straight out of Wharton. Me a nobody wife. Having told this before, I reprise it now for young ones who maybe don’t know it.

I knew him when, an NBC reporter, I interviewed him at his Atlantic City hotel. I knew him when, assistant to the Miss Universe president, I booked the celebrity judges. I knew him when I attended his Ivana wedding, Marla wedding, when he married Melania. I’ve flown with him on his plane to California. He’s been there when things were bad for me. He brought his team over to ensure my apartment’s safety. He took care of my husband’s ashes.

Things went bad for him and it was tuna fish sandwich lunch at my home. When Mayor Dinkins and I flew first class to Chicago, he sat cramped well behind us bunched into a second-rate seat alone — but never ever showed it! When things went good for him he hugged me when we were both at Melania’s private inaugural table.

We speak now. Get notes from him now. Do I know more? Yes. But safety fears prevent me getting close bodily.

My longtime old-time friend will crack history. Do I cherish him? Yes. Obama? Can’t even create peace with the wife. Biden? Can’t locate the men’s toilet. The Bush president who threw up on Japan’s minister? Please.

So who you want running things — the three-initialled bartender? FBI guy who hates his president? Bernie Sanders the spitter? Hunter who’d sell his country to an enemy? The socialist leftist communist unrealist Crapdamnee who New York should scrape off the bottom of their shoes and stuff down a subway grating?

What would you like to read about instead? Creatures? Bugs? Like what’s crawling around Washington? Maybe what’s creeping underground in America’s political system? We could all read the Gnat Gazette. Or what gets handed around the State Department, like the Critter Chronicle.

I’m hearing Pelosi subscribed to the Bulletin Bee. Adam Schiff — and that’s not how he spells his name — gets a subscription to the Moth Monitor. Weekends it’s the Rat Review. Comey gets the Daily Beast. In fact, he is the Daily Beast. The Today’s Cockroach Tabloid? Delivered straight to the Biden bathroom.

The Beast Bugle and Tsetse Times go directly to our former vice president’s English teacher. Weekends she gets the Cockroach Citadel or Waterbug Herald.

OK, OK, so DC is full of crawlies.

Not our president’s office. He’s there. For us. For America. For the United States. He is not laying down for us. He is fighting the whole world for us.

OK, you don’t favor him? You prefer the paid insects creeping around DC? The ones trying to unseat him? Want to kill the United States of America? Turn us into Syria, Venezuela, Iran.

Nobody’s ever seen the likes of Donald. You still don’t like him? OK, mazel tov. March. Burn flags. Start fires. Hire haters. Clear out the world’s No. 1 city — New York. Push Crapdammy. Celebrate the marchers. Honor the flag burners, statue killers, anti-semites, college professors, State Department pros. Send me a note from your jail cell.

Protect Donald.