Monday, February 20, 2017

February 20, 2017

Dear Diary,

Today I was looking out the window, fondly thinking back on all my travels.  When I was Secretary of State, I did a lot of traveling.  I visited India, Africa, Asia and all those places where dirty, poor and incredibly smelly people the less fortunate can barely survive, selling democracy like it was really going to help those poor turds going out of style.  I'd put on my freshest pants suit and bounce down the gang plank (or whatever they call those stairways for airplanes) to greet those very dark, very poor heathens our allies in order to bribe them for their loyalty advance both their interests with ours.

Of all the places I'd go, however, I really loved Europe, mainly because there were so many white people things to see and do there.  I liked Europe because if you're a king or a queen, you really live in style.  You get to live in castles on huge estates carpeted with all kinds of manicured gardens, as opposed to Africa, where most of the time you have to step over pig shit to get to the dictator's grass hut the culture is far more agrarian.  Still, even the Kenyans offer up a lot of off-the-books gifts and blood diamonds that fit into a safe deposit box cultural breadth, which I always enjoyed.

I suppose all my travels is why I'm a but concerned about The Man From Glad visiting Europe this week.  That's what Huma and I used to call Mike Pence.  Of course, I had to tell her all about those The Man From Glad commercials on television because she wasn't even born when they were on the air in the sixties.  They were so funny!  Whenever a mom had a stale sandwich crisis in her kitchen, she'd radio for help from The Man From Glad, who had white hair just like that Race Bannon from the Jonny Quest cartoon show.  He'd helicopter to the rescue, swooping right into the kitchen with a "lock tight" sandwich bag and save the day!

I know.  Huma didn't get it, either.  She had to Google it.  That's the problem with dating younger women.

Anyway, it turns out that Carrot Head sent The Man From Glad to rescue NATO and boy, is Europe hopping mad!  What a bunch of deadbeats.  I guess they thought we'd forget about the money they owe us and NATO.  Right.  Like one day we're going to think we left a few hundred billion dollars in the suit we dropped off at the cleaners.  Get real.

Out of all those asses we saved in the second world war, I'm pretty sure only Iceland and Denmark ever paid their war debts.  Every other country is fabulous at coming up with excuse after excuse.  A whole fucking continent and the best they can do is, "My dog ate my homework" in whatever language they happen to speak.  Oh, I know a lot of them say they speak English, but most of the time it's really hard to understand them and the rest of the time, they pretend not to know what you're saying.  Not one of them even tried to figure out what a "reset button" was.

I guess not having to deal with all that is the silver lining to my life as it is today.  I feel calmer knowing that NATO is someone else's problem.  Also, you wouldn't believe what happens when you mix Thorzaine, Zoloft and those pink ones with vodka.  Fuuuuuuuuuuck.

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