Wednesday, July 19, 2017

July 19, 2017

Dear Diary,

Good news! I think my whole "resist and persist" thing is starting to work. I'm sensing there's almost a spell sweeping the kingdom nation, almost as if the entire population has been hypnotized swayed by a powerful, invisible force.

I think I know why.

Since I'm still not allowed to receive too many visitors, I have been working on channeling many members of Congress by -- are you ready for this -- psychic means. I haven't told anyone else about this, because I don't want anyone to think I'm crazy, but I am now contacting Senators and Congressmen through sheer force of my mental energy. This isn't some "look in the mirror and see John F. Kennedy" thing that we used to do at sorority slumber parties. This is for real!

I haven't told anyone else about this, diary, so it must remain a secret. After all, with great power comes lots of executions great responsibility. I think that's how it goes. It's been ages since I watched "The Lion King" with Chel, but you get the idea.

Here's what I do:

After breakfast, Bessie leaves the room for my 2 PM nap. She thinks I'm sleeping for the next four hours, but what she doesn't know is that as soon as she's gone, I reach under my mattress to grab my special hat that I made with a bunch of tin foil I saved from my other lunches. It's kind of greasy and smells like fried chicken, but that doesn't seem to limit its power.

As soon as I'm sure Bessie is gone, I sit up in bed, put on the hat and begin chanting a spell I learned from an old rerun of "Bewitched."  I don't dare write the actual words, because the spell is secret and I don't want it to lose its effectiveness. What I can say is that it's one of Aunt Clara's, where she screws up Darren's ad campaign by turning him into a bunny.

First I put on the hat and then I shut my eyes really tight, imagining that I'm queen of the world Commander in Chief and all of Congress is bowing looking to me for guidance. I turn my gaze to Paul Ryan and instantly, laser beams shoot out of my eyes, reducing his P90X ass to a little ball of navel lint. Then I turn my imperial gaze to Chuck Schumer and send him a telepathic message, "You know what to do!" He returns a look as if to say he understands.

And it works!

I know, I didn't believe it first either, but just about every day, I see Schumer doing my bidding on CNN, throwing up road blocks exactly the way I want him to.  Of course, I have to keep this to myself, because if the Baptists ever find out, I'll lose the Bible belt. And even with affirmative action, the Satanists just don't bring the numbers.

But this is a real game changer.

Subscribe for each day's entry by Email!