If you’ve checked out any major news outlet in the past 24 hours, then you will have been subjected to the total non-story about democratic strategist Hilary Rosen making truthful statements about Stepford Wife and luxury car/ thoroughbred horse enthusiast Ann Romney…. and then getting the serioso Benedict Arnold treatment for it from my numero uno man on the campaign trail, David Axelrod.
Hey, Axe: just because ole’ Benny boy is the Feinbergs’ great great great great great uncle (that is an actual true fact) does not mean I will forgive and forget. You’re on my shiz list forevs, dickweed.
I know we try not to be overtly political on the Festivus, but since this blog and GQ’s Letters to the Editor section are the only outlets through which I am able to air my many grievances in public fora, here is a true fact that no one seems to be admitting about this utter flimflammery:
Say what you will about her husband, his campaign platform, or his treatment of ginger dogs…. Ann Romney is a fembot who probably had a nanny for each of her five ravishingly good looking children, an army of maids to clean up after them in each of her many opulent residences, and chefs to put dinner on the table.
So no, that lucky biatch really hasn’t worked a day in her life. Does that make her a bad person? No it does not. Am I jealous of her leisurely lifestyle and patrician bone structure? I sure am.
In honor of Ann, I now present a run-down of stuff I would do to fill my time if I had unlimited financial resources and free time:
- Purchase every Rosetta Stone course on the market and think half-heartedly about learning a bajillion new languages. Never get around to it because House Hunters seems to always be on TV.
- Troll for new houses on Christies Great Estates in Europe and Southeast Asia and actually buy the properties that look awesome without ever actually setting foot in them. Then hire a decorator to make them look awesome based on pictures I email him from Houzz. Then plan trips to go visit my handiwork. Then sell the houses at a profit so that I could have even more money to buy fancy far-flung properties with.
- Employ a personal trainer named Renato who likes to gab about celebrity gossip and his other clients’ private business while he whips my lazy ass into tip-top shape.
- Hire a dog breeder to set up a barn somewhere out on my extensive grounds where there are always goldendoodle puppies romping around. Play with them.
- Buy and trick out a private train car so that I never have to fly domestically and I can have a hot tub and a steam room on hand while I traverse the country. Bring my puppies with me wherever I go.
- Drink tons and tons and tons of good beer. Donate money to a bioscience company so that they can invent a cure for hangovers that actually works, so that I can always just keep drinking more and more beer and not feel like shiz.
- Re-enroll as an undergraduate at Wash U and then pay for all my friends to come back with me. Live the rest of my life as a college student. Donate millions of dollars to the school so that I can continue living the Van Wilder dream and they can never kick me out.
- Buy North Korea and Iran so that I can sleep at night.
And with that, I bid you all a Happy Friday. In the words of the inimitable R. Kelly, “Sippin’ on coke and rum. I’m like so what? I’m drunk. It’s the freakin’ weekend baby I’m about to have me some fun.”