This morning, as I lay in bed flicking shiftlessly through my newsfeeds while pondering the imponderables of life, like why the Chicago weather does not seem to get the concept of summer and who in Hell is responsible for Melania Trump’s wardrobe (not a typo, I think they outsourced that one), I was greeted with everyone’s favorite E! News, but for politics site, Politico’s banner story. And may I add, what perfect timing these fine gents have. Here, take a look. I’ll wait.
In case you mysteriously feel that you have not the time nor the inclination to further explore the depths the “elite political press” has decided to plumb in a Herculean effort to not talk about massive scale human rights abuses by this administration, let me sum it up for you; Young staff members of this administration are apparently not welcome in DC’s trendier neighborhoods, and therefore have a sad.
Truly, my heart bleeds for these poor people (snicker). To think, just because you willingly work for a racist, misogynist, willfully and wantonly destructive dipstick, people think that you are cut of the same cloth! Quelle horreur!
Stevie Miller can’t get a table at a ritzy enough joint, y’all! Stop the presses, this is front page news. Instead, he and his fellow Trumpites must repair to “closet Trump bars”, which I am assuming is code for “speakeasy for a**holes”. The humanity!
But the worst is yet to come, dear readers. It appears that these poor, maligned souls also cannot (gasp!) get a date! Yes, it seems that if you are known as an enabler of an administration hell bent on transforming the country into Jim Crow filtered through the works of the Marquis de Sade, your sex-appeal might be a teensy bit adversely affected. Who knew? I was pushed to such poetic paroxysms upon reading this, that I spontaneously composed a few lines:
Oh! What can I do?
For I am red through and through,
But my danglies blue.
I’m thinking of calling it “Ode to an Onanist”
I’m tempted to say this article is the best piece of political satire written since Voltaire hung up his wig, but I honestly cannot find any evidence of it in the text. Instead, let me submit that it is the greatest waste of pixels ever committed to screen (and given that we are speaking of Politico, this is a high standard indeed), tone-deaf beyond the comprehension of man and beast, and timed impeccably to make the authors look like a feckless berks (an English insult that has lost much of it’s potency over the years. It was originally a shortening of the Cockney rhyming slang term Berkshire Hunt. I’m sure you can figure out what that rhymes with).
In these times of change, how reassuring it is to see Politico still firmly committed to earning it’s much deserved moniker of “Tiger Beat on the Potomac”.
So please, spare a thought tonight for these orphans of decency, these martyrs to morality, the tarnished or possibly entirely devoid of soul. The ones who have made the ultimate sacrifice of going without the Michelin star dinners, the trendy lofts and the adulation of buxom maidens the rest of us take for granted.
Truly, is anyone more deserving of our sympathy at this time?