Saturday, January 27, 2018

Free Melania

This is going to be a doozy of a post. But I think it’s important to shed a little illumination on what is often cast as the most inscrutable role in the White House, that of First Lady. Now I’ve known two First Ladies quite intimately. There’s of course my mother, Barbara Bush (1989–1993) and my own little Lolo, Laura Bush (2001–2009). These ladies were the pinnacle of inscrutability and class. I’d go out on limb and say no other woman who’s ever occupied that role excelled more than these two. (Yes, I am biased. Sue me.) The role of First Lady is probably the least political of any high-visibility role in Washington. (Although I might have to make an exception for Hillary. Some of her actions during her tenure as FLOTUS [cough, cough, socialized health care] got her into some hot political water. Not that I’m gloating or nothing.) (Okay. Maybe I am.) As such, it is traditional to treat the First Lady with a certain deference and to withhold any detractive opinions about her. But what we have here today in This Guy’s White House breaks with all kinds of tradition. Or what you might call normalcy. Or sanity. Or the universe in which people who are not nutjobs live. Our current First Lady, the Slovenian former model, Melania, is to any casual observer an apolitical figure. And when I say ‘apolitical’, I mean it. She doesn’t have bone one in her body that remotely has the slightest passing curiosity in government. A baboon’s red butt has more sex appeal to a moose on the moon than Melania has interest in politics. Which probably explains why she didn’t move into the White House residence till six months after the inauguration. Which also probably explains why she slapped away her husband’s hand when they visited Israel. Which again probably explains why their first dance together as POTUS and FLOTUS during the inaugural ball had less passion than a six year-old ring boy tripping the light fantastic with his younger cousin, the flower girl, at their aunt’s third wedding at the Olive Garden reception hall in Passaic, New Jersey. (Sincerely. No disrespect to my friends in the Garden State. I love y’all.) And then, I see on the news that Orange Face has traveled to Davos, Switzerland sans spouse. Excuse trotted out by the White House communications office? “Scheduling and logistical issues.” Riiight. And if you bought that, I have some male enhancement pills you might want to buy off of me as well. (Not that I have any problem in that department myself.) And, of course, the most tragic sign that Melania’s betrothal to P****-Grabber-In-Chief (excuse my Swiss German), this past weekend was their 13th wedding anniversary and not a peep from the White House, not a tweet from Melania’s husband, Carpet Hat, wishing her an obligatory happy anniversary. What a ****. (Apologies for the rough vernacular, but that just burns my barnacles.) I will sing the praises of Laura from the rooftops. She is my rock and the reason I live and breathe. But I get it. Marriage isn’t a 24/7 tickle fight. Laura and I have had our rough times. We annoy the heck out of each other from time to time. But I tell you what. Our love is tougher than oak and stronger than steel and will outlast anything life throws our way. That’s how it ought to be. But this poor lady. I have mixed feelings about her. On one hand, she’s married to a rube. Sure I can be a rube, too. Laura reminds me every day (albeit in her own inimitable, affectionate manner). But This Dude, he takes the cake, the plate the cake is sitting on, the table holding them both up, the floor inside the building where the table is standing (with the cake on top of it). Heck, let’s just include the whole town where the bakery’s in with the table inside, the plate, the cake and so on. Then again, I don’t think she was that stupid. She knew what she was getting in exchange for all that (purported) wealth. And look at him. Come on. You don’t think she could have found a hunk her own age with a decent income who’d treat her right? Was it for looks or charm or, dare I say, intelligence? (If you couldn’t tell, that was classic sarcasm, all the way.) I hate to judge. But as the bible says, “You will reap what you sow.” I read once where This Guy told Howard Stern on one of his shows that the time for one of his women to check out was by age 35. By This Guy’s standards, Melania is way past her expiration date. W