Wednesday, May 17, 2017

May 17, 2017

Dear Diary,

Even with the Zoloft and Xanax, I am somewhat concerned about the reports I'm hearing about Carrot Head's discussions with the Russians. I don't get to see much, because Bessie locks the bedroom door from the outside right after breakfast, so whatever I know is what I hear when I press my ear to the walls.  The good news is that even with the muffling, I can tell there's less reporting about the murder of Seth Rich betraying me.  The bad news is that while everyone is talking about discussions with those Russkies, there's absolutely no mention of my red Reset button.  I'm so under-appreciated.  That button took a lot of work, including fending off that lawsuit from Staples.

When I was Secretary of State, I sold the Russians tons of uranium was careful to hide the millions we pocketed manage communications with the utmost care. I'm sure this is why neither Bill or I are in jail yet our Clinton Foundation was able to avoid prosecution foster good relationships between enemies. If anyone ever leaked sensitive information, their corpses would be found days later in a ditch they'd be dismissed forthwith.  National security was always a pain in the ass my first priority.

Leaks, no matter how big or small, are always serious.  If you don't take care of them quickly, they can grow into really big problems. For example, I have this weird discharge that seems to be oozing from my belly button. I didn't think it was a big deal, just kind of a trickle of a thick, yellowish-brown kind of goo that smelled like a mixture of vinegar and parmesan cheese.

At first, I'd just dampen a Kleenex with my tongue and wipe it up, but pretty soon I realized that whatever it was would leak into the folds of my stretch marks overnight, where it would dry out and leave a nasty crust by morning. Dr. Morell couldn't even look at it without throwing up. He just kicked the can over to Bessie by ordering her to give me a sponge bath to mop things up. That's when he told me that physical health is just like politics:  If you don't take care of yourself, your career can end up a messy, painful experience dripping with pus.  Then he made a few jokes about how it looked and smelled like I was giving birth to an alien, which I didn't find humorous at all. Sometimes he can be wise, but a little insensitive.

The leaks Carrot Head has aren't going to be cleared up with a few buckets of antibiotics, though. And we're all out of Kleenex.

I can tell this is not going to be a good week.


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