Wednesday, December 28, 2016

December 28, 2016

Dear Diary,

Turned on the television today to see Frankenstein talking about Barack's decision to finally slap that uppity Israel across the face at the United Nations and maybe bring down the price of crude oil once and for all.  Oh, I'm joking of course. But Frankenstein is probably the kindest name we used to call John Kerry back when I was queen Secretary of State.  Good god, that man had the brains of a horse -- not to mention the face -- and that's being pretty mean to the horse.  We used to call him Mister Ed.  A few of my ex-slaves staff members would tell me stories about leaving him a cube of sugar on his desk or making sure the chefs laid a few sprigs of alfalfa on his plate at lunch time.  Ah, good times, good times.

I'm actually thankful that Frankenstein took my old job, because while my greatest accomplishment may have been finally getting my American Airlines Platinum Mileage card, I don't think he even got that. What a dope. Have you ever been forced to listen to his speeches? Great Caesar's ghost, even HE falls asleep.  Barack doesn't show up, either, presumably because he's busy stashing silverware before he leaves next month (That's what we did. You have to get an early start).  I mean, nobody knows why Kerry even got the job, other than his "relationship" with that pile of money he calls his wife.  I think she's dead now.

That's what I should have done, dear diary:  I should have married rich.  Rich people have all the fun.  They go skiing in Gdansk.  They fly everywhere and never stand in line.  They don't have to set up phony charity foundations to get rich, they just go out and spend and buy stuff without worrying about tax audits or FBI investigations.  They're so lucky.  Why can't I be that lucky?

I realize now that I was a victim of several bad decisions as a young girl.  The first was confusing money and power.  Bill manipulated me into believing that if you had power, you could get money. HA! Maybe that worked for him and his backwoods whores, but it did squat for me. Here I am, decades later with nothing to show for myself but a dark room, a nightie that needs washing and a pharmacist that knows me on a first name basis.

Kerry did it smart.  Doesn't matter that every veteran hates HIM, because he's rich from all that ketchup.  He can afford to pay for decent public relations people. I couldn't.  I was straight with the American peasants people:  I was really sincere about that whole Benghazi video thing, but cheap, bad spin doctors were all I could afford, because as you know, women earn only 72¢ for every dollar a man earns.

Just checked my watch and Frankenstein has been droning on for more than an hour without saying anything.  You just watch: Nobody is going to give him a hard time, except maybe that Netanyahu character with the bad comb-over.  He'll probably hit the roof. He ALWAYS hits the roof when he doesn't get his way.

See, if Netanyahu were rich, he could afford a hair transplant.  Life isn't fair.

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