Dear Eric Frederick Trump: My name is Eric Frederick Trump. Can I call you Eric? I feel I know you. We are in a long-term relationship, though only one of us, until now, has known about it. There is something going on here. Something very strange. Let me explain. For years, I have been fielding your calls and receiving your correspondence (no suspicious white powders, yet). Now is the glorious Summer of Trump, and I need to sort out this matter of nomenclature and apprise you of the dead letters that continue to arrive at my door and my inbox. This is a true story. I swear I exist. I still have my birth certificate and am happy to release it. Or you can go to Amazon.com and look up “Eric Trump, verbs, German” (you have to be very precise if you want to find me). There, squashed between Daddy-T’s “Never Enough” and “Think Big: Make it Happen in Business and Life,” you’ll find my modest book, “501 Essential German Verbs.” (I said it was modest—and available for only $5.69!). …