Midnight Meme Of The Day!

by Noah

Presidential Spokesgoon Sarah Huckabee Sanders: She was gone for 81 days, but White House Communications Director Bill Shine was "relocated" and out from the White House attic closet, a closet like the one her parents must have kept her in for the first 18 years of her life, came Sarah to show the assembled press folks her mastery of depraved lunacy. Once again, Trump had need of her. To him, and maybe to him only, things just weren't insane enough since her disappearance. Once again, he needed "The Specialist." He needed the one person who can almost match him in his arrogance and babbling insanity. It was as if her role was to emphasize that there would be at least 6 more weeks of Devil propelled mayhem. At least. 6x6x6 in fact.

It's almost as if the Trump White House has their own version of The Bat Signal, only it throws the image of a cackling witch across the Washington sky. In any event, on Monday, there she was, hair washed, trimmed, uncaked and unknotted, face washed, and ready to go. Trump had new tropes to project on to others, most obviously the one about Democrats hating Jews. She vomited it out there as if her head, if that is her head, was doing high speed 360 degree spins that no priest in the world could stop. She even combined the "Democrats hate Jews" with "Democrats Rip Babies From Their Wombs." All in one sentence. She relished her evil. You could see Goebbels on her shoulder, egging her on. She stopped just short of telling the assembled press corps that democrats eat fetuses but you could tell it was right on the tip of her multi-forked demon tongue. Maybe next time.

The press? Why are they even there? They get all dressed up for this. Nice professional business clothes. I've seen geeks bite the heads off of live chickens on carny rows in places like Florida and Alabama. Believe me, you don't have to get dressed up. If the press shows up at all, the next time they should dress with the respect that Sarah Huckabee Sanders deserves. Cut-off sweatpants and a mustard-stained tie-dye Bugs Bunny t-shirt will do the trick. Bring some cotton candy. Don't ask questions. Just watch. Just stare at her until she gets so frustrated and flustered that she loses it completely and the Secret Service carts her away on a wagon. It can't happen soon enough.

Oh, and Donald, if you're reading this; I couldn't help but notice that Sarah's hands are bigger than yours. Much bigger. How does that make you feel? Do you wanna talk about that?