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In a suprisingly endearing profile of the Trump children—Donald Jr., Ivanka, and Eric—New York's Jonathan Van Meter meets the younger Don, who's currently working his way up his old man's ladder:

He excuses himself to get us some water and returns with plastic bottles of Trump Ice. The label features a picture of his father s face, scowling as usual, floating over a background of fire. The package design suggests that when you get to hell, Donald Trump will be there, running the joint. I look at the label again and then at Don, who rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders as if to say, Don t ask me, I just work here.

Which is exactly how we imagined things went around there.
Did Their Father Really Know Best? [NYM]