By popular demand…
I was going to add a snappy headline in Klingon but, sumofabitch, I don’t know any. Some geek I turn out to be.
And no, I don’t feel a bit guilty making fun of M’chelle.
We Righties were absolutely savagely insulting to Hillary Clinton in the most personal way. Her hair. Her cankles. Good ol’ Crusty the Pantsuit. She mostly deserved it, injecting her bad self and her bad politics into the presidency way over what a First Broad ought. You choose a life of celebrity politics, you hang the Kick Me sign on your back with your own hand.
(But, you know, I developed a sneaking admiration for her by the time it was all over. Baracky the Wonder Dog swooped in at the last minute and STOLE the prize she has worked and suffered and schemed for her whole damn life. And she stood there and took it. Took it like a man).
Yeah, I know. We flinch when it comes to the Obamas. It’s like nobody can imagine how to make fun of people who happen to be black without descending into the toxic racist iconography of last century.
Well, I can imagine such a thing. I can imagine a zillion heartwarming, magical ways to make fun of these people without going there.
At least, I’m pretty sure I can think up enough mockery to last us four years. Please god I don’t has to do it for eight.
Come on. You want it in big, beautiful color. You know you do.