Wednesday, May 10, 2017

May 10, 2017

Dear Diary,

Just as I was beginning to think there was nobody left to kill that my life had become a boring parade of prescription meds, everything got turned upside down when Bill rushed into my bedroom, all sweaty and breathing heavy.  There wasn't a young, half-dressed intern following him, so I knew it had to be something serious.  Then he told me: Carrot Head fired that weasel FBI director Jim Comey.

Well, I guess that was big news to some people, but I've had farts after a Taco Bell run that were more surprising. Comey had it coming.  If I'd been crowned queen running the show, I'd have had Comey ground up and fed to pigs reassigned the minute I took the throne office. I never cared much for Comey, so as far as I'm concerned, he can twist in the wind until Chuck Schumer stops whining -- which could be forever.

Jesus, is there anything Schumer won't complain about? He's like a white Al Sharpton, only Jewish and less shriveled. Last year, early on in the you-know-what, Schumer was practically on his knees giving Comey a weekend knob job, telling the world how Comey was such a freaking Boy Scout. Then, just before the you-know-what, Schumer decided that Comey had to go. He's like a girl trying on clothes in the dressing room at T.J. Maxx.  The man can't make up his mind. What's next, complaining about bloat and water weight gain? If you ask me, Schumer should spend less time in front of the camera and more time in front of the mirror figuring out where to fill in those terrible hair plugs that keep falling out.

To be honest, Comey getting fired is a really important moment, not only because he's going to be hard-pressed to continue making payments on that Tesla, but also because he made accusations about my precious little Yasmine Huma Abedin.  Apparently, she's in big trouble for sending classified information to her Jew pervert husband's laptop, which got mixed up with his child porn collection. See, that's what puzzles me.  What's she doing with that guy?  What does he have that I can't strap on?  She could have had me.  We could have had it all.  Whenever FOX News shows her face, with her full, pouty lips and big, brown ISIS executioner eyes, I get all choked up and can't stop thinking of that stupid Adele song.

But maybe now my luck will change.  Maybe bad things happen for good reasons.  I mean, compared to her situation, the Vince Foster thing was a cakewalk. Oh, I've been down this road with her before. While the going is good, she's out breaking hearts and hanging with that skinny Jew, but when the going gets rough, or she sees a pair of really hot Manolo Blahnik shoes, then she's all up in my ear, whispering things like, "I'll do that thing you really like" or "If you really loved me, you'd show that I could show you."

That's how it is with here. Now that my little arab princess former assistant is in trouble, she needs White Mama a friend to help her out of a jam, doesn't she?  Oh, she'll call me.  You'll see.  She's such a user.  Such a tease.  Such a dirty whore.

Dear God, I just can't get enough of that stuff.

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