Wednesday, June 7, 2017

June 7, 2017

Dear Diary,

I felt a little unsteady today, so I mostly stayed in bed and tried to watch television, but every channel had some Senate inquisition hearing on something or other, which was el bore-o. It's one thing to be a senator on the tribunal committee, actually doing the questioning. You can ask the victims respondents just about anything you want, and if it's juicy important enough, a clip of it gets on to MSNBC.

Of course, I've been on both sides of the table, and believe me, it's a lot more fun to be the one humiliating people on national television asking the questions. There's a lot about Senate hearings that people don't know. Like how just before the hearing starts, the Senators all meet in a room and place bets on who can ask the weirdest stuff to people under oath. They have to answer truthfully or face perjury charges. One time, I won $10 when I bet Elizabeth Warren she didn't have the cojones to ask Merrick Garland how big his dick was.  I'm not kidding. She's such a poser.

It's no secret that nobody likes Elizabeth. She's trash. That whole "I'm really an Indian" thing is just the tip of the iceberg, too.  She's such a whore. She'll do anything for money. Like this one time, during the you-know-what, when we were trying to pay her off to get her endorsement. Podesta invited her and Bernie over for a meeting at ten in the morning, but by eleven, neither one had showed up, which was weird because our token negro receptionist reported seeing both of them come in the front door on time.

I was really pissed. You just don't keep the queen your party's nominee waiting like that. So we broke for an early lunch, but when I opened the closet door to get my overcoat, boy did I get a surprise! Bernie and Elizabeth were right there, crammed in the closet with all of our office supplies. His pants were down around his ankles and she was on her knees with her head bobbing and weaving like Muhammad Ali during the first Frasier fight.

At first, Bernie didn't even notice I'd opened the door because his eyes were clenched shut and he was gritting his teeth really tight. Needless to say, I was shocked:  Not only are his legs a lot skinnier than you might think, but he wears tightie whities. I always pegged him for a boxers man.

I was just about to close the door and leave them to their business, when Elizabeth stopped just long enough to growl, "Great White Father like his little Indian princess? I take to you big hunting ground now!" Look, I really hate her, but I have to say her technique was pretty good. She devoured that thing in one fell swoop and didn't gag once. I thought Bernie was going to lose his mind. I tried to close the door as quietly as I could, and just as I did, I could hear him moaning something like, "Kish meir baitsim, shiksa!"  I could be wrong about that, though. I don't speak Yiddish. It might have been, "Here's your twenty."

Then I met Huma for lunch and we both had salads.

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