Saturday, April 29, 2017

April 29, 2017

Dear Diary,

My goodness, it's been one hundred days since the you-know-what, and while Carrot Head is spearheading an economic recovery making excuses, here I sit watching everyone else having all the fun.

I won't lie, dear diary, it's not easy being on the outside looking in, and one can listen to Frank Sinatra singing "My Way" only so many times before it loses its effect.  Dr. Morell says I should be upping the Lithium, but the news keeps depressing me to the point where even the amphetamines don't help.

This week, I was devastated to hear that Big Ears was not only getting over sixty million for his memoirs, but another $400K for a speaking gig.  I suppose everyone's entitled to cash in on their retirement, but what really hurt was that he was speaking to my people.  Let me tell you, those Jews at Goldman Sachs and Cantor Fitzgerald will turn on you like sharks.  I keep turning this over and over in my mind.  Why him?  Why not me?  And then I realize all the other people I can blame factors that caused this situation.

I never should have listened to all those idiots who told me to back away from the whole muslim thing.  I should have stressed inclusion and tolerance of stuff like beheadings and female genital mutilation.  You know, come off as a real turban-lover the way Big Ears does.  Jeez, that guy will say anything to anyone and they'll just keep handing over the checks.  You know why?  I'll tell you why.  It's because he's b-l-a-c-k and they're all afraid of looking racist.  There, I said it.  If I were b-l-a-c-k, I'd probably have won the you-know-what, but my dermatologist kept insisting I stay away from UVA tanning beds -- another idiot I should never have listened to.

After Bill's administration, publishers and speaker bureaus showered him with all kinds of money, too.  You think I ever saw a penny of it?  Forget it. I remember one time when my Jenny Craig bill was overdue by a few thousand and he looked me in the eye and swore, "I'd like to help, honey, but I'm completely tapped out." This was just after he'd chartered a jet to Vegas with a few other Bubbas for some weekend bachelor party.

Oh, great. Now Sinatra's singing "It Was a Very Good Year." Sure, he can sing that because he's dead. I have to go on living.  I must find my way back.  Maybe meet some non-white new people.  Get a new look.

I wonder who makes Maxine Waters' wigs?

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