Friday, January 6, 2017

January 6, 2017

Dear Diary,

Dr. Morell says that I've reached his prescription limit, so for the time being, I'm going to put the whole idea of Carrot Head's coronation inauguration out of my head.  It's probably better for me, both physically and mentally, because a lot of these pills have pretty nasty side effects.  The pink ones make my eyes roll into the back of my head and the green ones make me dizzy.  Dr. Morell says I should "engage more" with the outside world, and that's exactly the thing I intend to do.

Sometimes, when I have to poop, I like to pretend I'm sitting on a throne.  Dr. Morell says it's a healthy practice.  For one thing, it  helps me deal with the constipation brought on by all those opioids.  It also helps me visualize a new reality and give my life some focus.  Between you and me, I think it's bringing on a nasty case of hemorrhoids, but nobody has to know about that.

When I'm on the throne, I unroll the toilet paper and pretend I'm reading a proclamation to my courtesans.  Sometimes I announce plans and programs to help the unwashed, filthy masses good citizens of the realm county.  My favorite, however, is pronouncing death sentences for traitors, like John and Huma and that Jew prick Anthony.  Bastards.

Once I'm done, I wash my hands (you have to sing "Happy Birthday" at least two times to get them really clean) and think about if I could ever venture back into public life. It wouldn't be easy, dear diary.  Ever since the you-know-what, people think my hands aren't the only things that are washed up. But today, Chel had her personal assistant call me to see how I was doing, and mentioned that there was a rumor on Spacebook about my running for mayor of New York.

I know, mayor of New York City is a big step down from queen President or Senator, but I could do a lot there.  First, Gracie Mansion is about as close to a palace as you're going to find and I wouldn't have to pay a cent to live there.  When you're a Senator, you're on your own for living space, so that's a plus.  Also, when you're mayor, you can order people to do anything and practically everyone obeys.  They've got some Italian mafioso married to a you-know-what running the place now, so those morons voters clearly aren't terribly choosy.  I think they outlawed 64 ounce sodas there.  Hmmm.  That's one thing I'll have to repeal.

Have to run now, diary.  But let's keep this a secret just between us.  Also, let's not tell anyone about that recurring hemorrhoid.  It could be embarrassing.

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