I don’t know what to call her. Bride of Frankenstein, but that would insult the Macabre fictional creatures, Melanoma, as many Black comedians have dubbed her or the most beautiful, elegant First Lady of all time according to her MAGA nation cult members, who don’t know that FLOTUS’s job is to spearhead projects that unite the nation and leave it in a better place. (FLOTUS 44: 4 initiatives—Let’s Move, Let Girls Learn, Improving School Nutrition, Joining Forces for military families. FLOTUS 45 and 47: 1 initiative—Be Best and 0, unless you include grifting.
Mysterious is what she is to me, and not in a good way. I join the millions of Americans and thousands of journalists who are completely unaware of what charges she was refuting in yesterday’s bizarre press conference in which she distanced herself from her husband’s former best bud Jeffrey Epstein. In an appearance not signed off on by POTUS, and completely opposite to the tact taken by the new sycophant AG, she called for a hearing in which Epstein’s survivors can finally be heard. Dressed in a men’s suit with fresh blonde highlights on her cascading weave, the First Lady spoke in her halting, barely decipherable, accented English. MAGA nation’s favorite immigrant.
Is she thin-skinned and fighting off imaginary slander like Don Quixote chased windmills? Trying to sink her husband by reopening the issue of Epstein and the allegations by his survivors that the girls were trafficked at Mar-a-Lago and more? Who knows? But at this point those of us who think and read are exhausted from all the sociopathy emanating from the White House. Warily, we wait for the next coo-coo eruption from the damaged People’s House, which is soon to be renovated with steel from a foreign company. Bugs much? We imagine the administration’s bros dancing, as if unaware, to the gay anthem YMCA when the ballroom opens. At least that would be worth a chuckle.
