Sunday, May 28, 2017

May 28, 2017

Dear Diary,

I don't have a calendar, but judging from the mattress ads in the newspaper, I'm guessing that it must be Memorial Day soon.  Being the legitimate heiress to the throne a sentimental American, I always take time to observe one of the most important holidays celebrated in the United States.  It's a very serious occasion, because it takes at least three hours for Bessie to get the barbecue out the garage and then another whole day to clean it.

It's a shame that many Americans still don't know the difference between Memorial Day and Veterans Day.  That's probably because not everyone can afford to send their children to private schools too many of them spend time on MySpace, instead of studying American history. I first learned the real differences when I was in college, where I was informed that one doesn't wear winter whites after Memorial Day, but by Veterans Day it's okay, because that's after Labor Day.

Some people believe that Memorial Day is actually the first day of summer, but that's just more fake news put out by Steve Bannon and the rest of Carrot Head's crew. I had heard that Memorial Day is Steve's favorite holiday, too. I have no trouble picturing him with sauce all over his nose, chin and cheeks, chomping away. He just looks like one of those sloppy eaters who waits until the end of the meal to wipe his face because "there's no point to keep wiping and wiping and wiping throughout the meal when you're just going to get messy again." It's so unseemly.

Juanita Broadderick claims Bill was like that, too. Then he'd jump up from the bed to get himself a wet towel and just leave Juanita soaking in it. I'm not sure how much of that I believe, except for the wet towel part. Bill never cared about anyone else. It was always Bill, Bill, Bill with him.  I'm sure that's what caused that whole you-know-what fiasco. Him and that airplane meeting with that Lynch bitch. Ugh. I could just scream.

Memorial Day should be a solemn, beautiful occasion, with the peasants working people spoiling observing it by taking yet another paid holiday, which means I can't have Bessie pick up my dry cleaning tomorrow. I hate that. Why can't we just celebrate it on Sunday? You can be patriotic without inconveniencing people. Most of those people don't go to church anyway, so it's not like they'd be missing anything.

Bill's study is quiet, so it must mean there's no football game, either.

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