Daddy’s Little Girl

So… just how insensitive… slash… out of touch with reality is Daddy Donny’s little girl Ivanka?

Hmm…

It’d be no yuge shocker, were we to spot her frantically hoofing IN CIRCLES, while planning her daddy dearest’s next gaudy, gold-plated, tasteless dinner party… slash… shameless, reelection fundraiser. In her weak defense, she’d be pacing about in the OVAL OFFICE, so what other way would there be?

Most likely, her dual dilemma would revolve around…

What color evening gown gown to wear and whether to serve white or red wine.

Further complicating her choices… [1] it’s sooooo tough to schedule a bash against the backdrop of the COVID-19 deaths of 142,000 Americans (and still counting), who’ve needlessly suffered and died during the pandemic of her sadistic daddy’s own making and [2] within the dank recesses of his ignorance and narcissism mucked up head, he doth fancy himself a heroic leader… you know… just because his numbers… his death toll numbers… have yet to rack up a “cool” one million.

First and foremost, Ivanka knows clashing with Daddy’s dinner guests’ attire would be a YUGE NO-NO! They’re certain to be decked out in their brown shirts adorned with swastika armbands and white robes accessorized with white hoods.

Hmm…

Why risk pissing off Martha Stewart and the Fashion Police, Ivanka? If the latter entities are anything like your daddy’s goons, the tear gas, alone, could ruin this Republican party’s atmosphere / ambiance. Ergo… seeing how you can expect everybody in attendance to be a freakin’ racist asshat… with buckets of blood on their hands, why not stick with white attire and serve red wine?

DISCLAIMER: Via this docudrama post, this blogger is applying a liberal coat of sarcasm. First and foremost, I’d never lift a finger to help this Odd Couple… unless it were my middle finger. Seeing how they’re both lifelong sociopaths, speedy resolutions will not be forthcoming, for the foreseeable future. Perhaps we should enlist the counsel of shrink, Mary Trump, who’d be far better suited to stage interventions (exorcisms?). And she MUST start with her Uncle Donny!

BTW, check out Ms. Trump’s credentials…

“Mary earned a bachelor’s and master’s in English Literature from Tufts University and Columbia University, respectively, and then completed a master’s degree and Ph.D in clinical psychology at Adelphi University, later contributing to a 2002 book about schizophrenia.” [read more here]

 

 

Stay Safe! Stay Publicly Masked! Stay Healthy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Holiday Posting Plans…

 

Having caught the blogging bug way back in June ’06 (over @Tom Anderson’s MySpace), the only reasons for my not being @WordPress on Christmas Eve / Day, would be [1] tech woes, [2] Orwellian detention, [3] debilitation [4] sudden death.

However, owing to my [1] deference due the Caretaker of the Cosmos, [2] my reverence for the ancient account of Mary and Joseph’s whereabouts / un-stable lodgings on (or around) December 24th and 25th and [3] their purportedly pivotal roles regarding the Blessed Event of any Millennium

I hereby proclaim that throughout tomorrow and Wednesday, I’ll be refraining from posting new political content… especially stuff which dwells on the duly disgraced Donny. Oh, I might make an exception if (IF?) he doth something inordinately deplorable and/or dense… i.e., if there’s a tale to tell, which could not possibly “keep” until the 26th.

But… oh… what a wonderful world it would be if, during those same 48 hours, the White House Whiner-In-Chief would refrain from posting political content, too!

Maybe if we hope / pray really hard…

• Trump’s Tweets will not exceed his from the heart (what heart?) “Merry Christmas”… i.e., the very phrase he insists that even non-Christians wish each other.

• Donny will finally spend some quality time to actually get better acquainted with his nuclear family. Hmm… how is it that I can practically envision his spouse and offspring needing to wear those stickers that say, “Hello… my name is ____________!“

So, what would be their chances for a genuine, wholesome, family reunion… ala Currier and Ives… one that the guru of gracious living, Martha Stewart, would endorse?

Alas… to keep this all real, some families are so dysfunctional they ARE beyond repair.

Hmm… perhaps an intervention could do the trick… oh… say… courtesy of a Dickensonian trio of ghosts?