I believe that a lot of people who voted for Donald Trump simply couldn’t bear the thought of Hillary Clinton in the Oval Office and having to listen to that witch’s voice of hers for the next four to eight years. I also believe that a lot of people voted for Trump because they really wanted to see that wall finally built or because they thought that a successful businessman was just what the doctor ordered to get the economy out of the horse latitudes where it’s been floundering for the past couple of decades.

But I think a surprisingly large number of us voted for Trump because he seemed like someone it would be fun to hang out with.

When he decided, on his hundredth day in office, to skip the annual Washington Correspondents Dinner and, instead, give a speech to a crowd of enthusiastic fans in Pennsylvania, he was being the quintessential Trump.

It must have come as a shock to the assembled journalists, all decked out in their tuxedos and evening gowns, to discover that no Hollywood celebrities decided to show up and make them feel glamorous and important. No Trump, no star power. Not even the chance to see Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein in the aging flesh was enough of a lure. They tried to carry on, patting themselves on the back, telling each other that they’re the heroic defenders of the 1st Amendment, but I don’t think even they believe it.

· Laugh of the week: You never know where the next kneeslapper is coming from. On Sunday, I heard Democratic strategist Joe Trippi claim — with a straight face, no less — that if Mrs. Clinton had won the election and made her daughter an official advisor, the media would have treated Chelsea as harshly as they do Ivanka Trump. Do these schnooks ever listen to themselves?

· The San Diego Unified School District has announced a partnership with the Council of American-Islamic Relations (CAIR), a group that has been designated a terrorist organization, to include lessons on Islam in social studies classes in an alleged attempt to combat anti-Muslim bullying.

It seems to me that all the bullying is coming from Muslims, but what do I know? I don’t read the NY Times or watch MSNBC, after all.

Besides, I suppose it depends on what is taught in those classes. If they cover suicide-bombings of pizza parlors and school buses, beheadings, honor killings and the ritualistic mutilations of female genitalia, I’m all for it. But if, as I assume, it’s intended to convince the kids that Islam is a peaceful religion, sort of like Christianity and Judaism, except really cool and exotic, my first order of business would be to perform a mass exorcism of the San Diego Unified School District.

· As you all know, I am pro-education, which is why I despise four-year colleges. They are benign versions of those re-education camps made popular in China, Cambodia and North Korea, where those opposed to communist despots are shown the error of their ways, even if it kills them.

Leftist propaganda is the order of the day, which only proves how dumb and self-deluded college professors are. Clearly, they assume that in a communist society, they would be held up as philosopher-kings. What they don’t know or have chosen to ignore is that, starting with Stalin in the Soviet Union, so-called intellectuals have an amazingly short lifespan in such places. Dictators have little patience with people who read books. You never really know what they’ll find in those pages.

The escape hatch for our college professors might be that they only read the books they write themselves, and, besides, calling them intellectuals is one hell of a stretch.

The notion that four-year colleges turn out well-rounded individuals may have been a selling point in the now-distant past, but today it’s as passé as high-button shoes.

Between a computer and a library card, the kids can round themselves off without having to suck up to leftist professors or suffer the consequences.

If college doesn’t prepare the students for a job, a career, a profession — call it what you will — it’s failing in what should be its primary mission. If a kid is going to run up upwards of $100,000 in student loans, his degree better be putting him or her in a position to pay it off before he or she starts collecting Social Security or it’s the worst kind of con game; the kind where the tricksters never go to prison.

· I will now share two jokes I received that share a common theme.

A man sits down at a bar and orders a Scotch. When the bartender serves it, the man reaches in his pocket and pulls out a thimble and tells the bartender to fill it with Scotch. Then he reaches in his pocket and takes out a tiny piano and stool, and sets them on the bar. When the bartender returns with the thimble of Scotch, he’s shocked to see the man reach into his other pocket and bring out a tiny fellow in a tuxedo and place him on the stool. The little man begins to play Debussy’s “Clair de Lune.”

The bartender is flabbergasted. He asks the man to explain how this has come about.

The man explains that he came across an ancient brass lamp while strolling on the beach. Figuring he had nothing to lose, he rubbed it, and a genie appeared.

“The genie,” the man explains, “said he was 400 years old and had pretty much run out of wishes to grant, but figured he might be able to muster up one. Unfortunately, being as old as he was, I’m afraid the genie was going deaf.”

“How do you figure that?” asked the bartender.

The man just stared at him the way Tucker Carlson stares at liberal fruitcakes on his show. After a moment, he downed his drink and said: “Do you really think I would wish for a 12-inch pianist?”

Joke number two:

An 89-year-old man is out on the lake fishing when he hears a voice say: “Pick me up.”

He looks around, but doesn’t see anyone. A couple of seconds later, he hears the same voice saying: “Pick me up.”

This time, the old man looks over the side of his boat. He sees a frog sitting on a lily pad. “Was that you?”

“Yes,” says the frog. “Pick me up. Then kiss me and I’ll turn into the most beautiful woman you have ever seen. When you marry me, you will be the envy of all your friends.”

The man considers it, then reaches over, picks up the frog and puts it in his pocket.

The frog screams: “What are you doing? Are you nuts? I said kiss me and I will be your beautiful bride!”

The old man opens his pocket, looks down at the frog and says: “Thanks, but at my age I’d rather have a talking frog.”

I understood perfectly because at my age, I’d rather have a 12-inch pianist who can play Debussy.