Top 5 Reasons I Feel Bad For Melania Trump

When the KGB approached Melania Trump and “encouraged” her to seduce Donald Trump so they could infiltrate American high society, she jumped at the chance. But now her life has taken a dark twist. She’s the new First Lady.

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(The happy First Family)

I wonder if Trump and Melania discussed his idea to run for president or if he just came home one day with red hats, patriotic ties and a family-loaded entourage. I can hear him saying something like, “Suck it up, buttercup” when she expressed her concerns. Maybe not. Probably.

Here are the Top 5 reasons I feel pity for Melania:

She only signed on to be a trophy wife. The deal was, she got an unlimited budget, a swanky New York penthouse and she only had to have sex with Trump when the Dow Jones Industrial Average dropped below 10,000. Now, she has to spend time with Trump and pretend to like him for four (please, God, let it be only four) years.

Her husband treats her poorly. Trump’s actions say a TON about their marriage. I think he loves the idea of having a beautiful wife but has no idea how to treat her with respect–which seems consistent with how he treats other beautiful women.

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(The Donald doesn’t even wait for her before he clumps over to the Obamas.)

She’ll be scrutinized.  For the next four (please, God, let it only be four) years, every article of clothing she wears, every hairstyle she dons, every comment she makes, every somber expression she has, and every part of her schedule will be criticized, attacked, praised and Twittered. She’ll be a meme, a gif, a vime and a Facebook post.

Her husband’s lecherous behavior. I’m sure she’s aware that her husband treats women like chewing gum. But having a private conversation about Trump’s misogynistic behavior is much different than having the press have the conversation for you. No more privacy when her husband molests the pizza delivery girl.

She’ll be underestimated. Yes, Melania is beautiful, but she also speaks five languages. She’s traveled all over the world, she’s protective of her son, she’s naturally shy and tends to avoid the spotlight. I don’t think we should mistake her calm demeanor for ignorance. She might be the best thing to come out of this election.

 

 

2017: Year of the Woman

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Declaring 2017 to be the Year of the Woman, I googled “Men doing good things for women” to get examples of equality and understanding.

Instead, the first page offered topics like “10 things men LOVE women to do during hot sex” and “8 things men wished women knew about sex.”

Heavy sigh.

This only re-emphasizes how men seem to only relate to women on a sexual basis. Not as humans, but as toys. Maybe this explains the recent abhorrent behavior that includes efforts to shut down Planned Parenthood clinics, a woman’s right to abortion or contraception being hindered, police departments destroying untested rape kits and the fact that a misogynistic, pussy-grabbing caveman is the leader of our country.

Women are furious. Don’t blame our hormones. Blame a society that continues to devalue our talents and abilities. We’re sad. Not because its “That time of the month” but because it’s heartbreaking to see inequality and sexism continue in another generation of young people.

We’ve focused on raising our daughters to be brave and bold like our sons, but we need to raise our sons to be empathetic and kind like our daughters. We need our sons and grandsons to understand that respecting women goes far beyond opening doors, it’s about being seen and treated as equals.

Female celebrities are embracing the cause:

After President-Elect Trump’s “Nasty woman” comment to Hillary Clinton during a debate, Samantha Bee made “Nasty Woman” a rallying cry–and a super-cool T-shirt.

Jennifer Aniston, firing back at tabloid news agencies, explained that she doesn’t need a husband and children to be complete.

Amy Schumer shut down the haters when it was announced she would be in the new Barbie movie.schumer

“We need to laugh at the haters and sympathize with them. They can scream as loud as they want. We can’t hear them because we are getting shit done. I am proud to lead by example.”–Amy Schumer

Olympic Gold Medalist Simone Biles stated, “I’m not the next Usain Bolt or Michael Phelps. I’m the first Simone Biles.”

In her heartbreaking concession speech, Hillary Clinton said, “To all the little girls watching…never doubt that you are valuable and powerful and deserving of every chance and opportunity in the world.”

And Michelle Obama, one of the country’s strongest leaders, stated, “No country can ever truly flourish if it stifles the potential of its women and deprives itself of the contributions of half of its citizens.”

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This Saturday, thousands of women around the country will march in conjunction with The Women’s March on Washington. They march to send a message to the new president that women’s rights are human rights. They march to let the world know that we are rising and men need to stop holding us down out of fear we’ll fly higher than they ever imagined. What could we accomplish if men actually encouraged our flight?

“America is still a great country and it is still worth fighting for. . .  And if Ms. Rodham’s not in the White House that’s okay — one of those girls is going to be. We still have millions of Nasty Women who aren’t going away, and as long as women over 25 are still allowed on television, I’ll be here, cheering them on.”–Samantha Bee

 

Hell to the Chief

It’s inevitable. In 10 days, a gold and diamond encrusted ShitMobile will usher the new First Family into the White House. Barring a Colorado-sized asteroid hitting the planet, chances are the new Commander in Chief will kick off the next four years of tyranny. . . um, I mean . . . what do I mean?

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You’d think with his kind of $$$$, he could buy a thick skin—which he’ll need since Alec Baldwin has a 4-year gig on SNL and Meryl Streep called him out at the Golden Globes and journalists worry about his relationship with the press. He repeatedly responds to criticism with his big Twitter thumbs a-blazing, never allowing a comment to pass without an overreaction.

I thought it would be fun (horrifying) to reacquaint ourselves with our new Prez’s . . . um . . . original way of speaking by compiling some of his most inspirational (bat-shit-crazy) quotes.

“All of the women on The Apprentice flirted with me – consciously or unconsciously. That’s to be expected.” (Just threw up a little.)

“The beauty of me is that I’m very rich.” (I thought it was his radioactive glow.)

“My fingers are long and beautiful, as, it has been well documented, are various other parts of my body.” (More with the throwing up.)

“I think the only difference between me and the other candidates is that I’m more honest and my women are more beautiful.” (He buys his women in bulk at Costco.)

“My Twitter has become so powerful that I can actually make my enemies tell the truth.” (Just like Wonder Woman’s golden lasso!! He is just like us!)

“My IQ is one of the highest — and you all know it! Please don’t feel so stupid or insecure; it’s not your fault.” (I don’t understand.)

“You know, it really doesn’t matter what the media write as long as you’ve got a young, and beautiful, piece of ass.” (True, not sexist, wisdom from our President.)

“Meryl Streep, one of the most over-rated actresses in Hollywood . . .” (Has he ever seen a movie?)

“One of the key problems today is that politics is such a disgrace. Good people don’t go into government.” (We’ll end our list with that ironic statement.)

I’ve given up hope that Ashton Kutcher has organized a monumental Punk’d episode. I’ve become accustomed to the idea that our country will be led by someone too intelligent to take advice, too wealthy to understand poverty and too horny to be respected.

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I honestly hope he proves me wrong.

“I would bring back a hell of a lot worse than waterboarding.”

Dear, God. We’re so screwed.

 

 

Irreplaceable: Carrie Fisher

A piece of my heart died on Tuesday when I heard Carrie Fisher had passed away. She changed my childhood and rewrote what it meant to be a powerful woman.

When I was a young girl, Princess Leia was everything I wanted to be. Brassy and brave, and full of swagga while carrying a blaster and saving the galaxy in a floor-length dress.

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In later years, my admiration grew. She was so willing to talk about things no one discussed, and so willing to be her own wonderful self. She was never a damsel in distress, never a maiden looking for her white knight. Carrie Fisher was already complete and goddamn fine with who she was.

Here’s why I loved her:

Her razor-sharp wit. Who knew a woman could be funny AND smart AND successful AND throw norms out the window? She was a knee-slapping, rip-roaring, pee-leaking, side-splitting, cheeks-hurting comedic genius. If she’d survived this heart attack, she would have written a brilliant book about her experience and the subsequent media ape-shitting that followed.

Her honesty. She said, “You’re only as sick as your secrets.” She was brutally honest about her addiction and mental illness.She shared her struggle without glossing over the messy bits–and threw in heavy doses of dark humor.

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(If you haven’t read “Postcards From the Edge”, you need to buy a copy. Tuh-day.)

She never forgot her Star Wars roots. It’s hard to be a real-life super hero. Carrie Fisher was not Princess Leia. But she knew to millions of fans, she represented a rebellion against the Dark Side. She was gracious in her acceptance of that role and re-embraced it as General Organa. She continued to kick galactic ass, enthralling a whole new generation.

She was entirely herself. Carrie Fisher was not perfect. In a time when image is everything, she refused to believe that. She said offensive things. She pissed people off. She refused to be silent in regard to body-shaming and the unrealistic expectations imposed on women in the spotlight–and out of the spotlight.

She loved her French bulldog. Gary Fisher was one of the most pampered and recognizable pooches in Hollywood. With his Twitter account reaching  more than 10K followers, his posts following her death were heartbreaking as he faithfully waited for her to return.

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(Gary Fisher during yet another interview.)

Just like Gary Fisher and millions of fans, I’ll miss Carrie Fisher terribly. The world just got a little less funny, a little less sarcastic and a lot less beautiful.

 

 

An Open Letter to Santa 2016

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Dear Santa,

I fear we’ve miscommunicated. I thought we agreed there were certain people on your list who would NOT be given the gift of the United States presidency.

Maybe when I specifically asked you to “Give him coal” you heard, “Let’s bring back coal.” Perhaps when I said, “Protect women’s rights” you were certain I said, “Let’s roll the advancement of women back to the 1950s.” Maybe  a rational, temperate, well-spoken and kind president wasn’t available this year. Perhaps it was out of stock?

I understand. Maybe you were blinded by the orange glow radiating from the president-elect’s skin. Perhaps his promise to “Bring back Merry Christmas” was enough for you to look the other way as he Twitter-raged through the last couple of months.

When I was a child, if I treated others poorly or if I was bombastic and proud, I would be disappointed on Christmas morning. I’m pretty sure if I had secret dealings with a Russian leader, spewed racist and/or sexist comments and continued to think I was “Smart enough” to run a country without intelligence briefings, I would get a lump of coal in my stocking.

Oh, wait. He got Big Coal, Big Oil and Big Industry for Christmas.

While the idea of a Trump presidency scares the shit out of me, I keep wishing on a Christmas star that his pompous act is all for show, and deep down he knows what the hell he’s doing. But as he continues to rant at Twitter execs, Vanity Fair, the cast of Hamilton and SNL, and anyone else who dares have an opposing view, I fear for the future.

So, Santa, since you’ve already f***ed up the holiday season, maybe bring our new president the gift of diplomacy, grace, humility and love for all human beings. Or bring the rest of us lots of alcohol.

Love,

Peri

 

 

Top 5 Christmas Party Games

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Everyone loves a good party game (except introverts and cats). A fun game gets guests mingling and talking to each other. (Never mind. Christmas games sound like hell.)

But if you insist on tormenting your party goers with games, at least get creative. Here are the Top 5 Christmas Party Games for you to try this year.

Christmas Charades: Acting out common holiday phrases seemed like a good idea until drunk Aunt Edna horrified all the party guests with her depiction of “Santa’s sack.”

Two Truths-One Lie–Christmas Edition: Each person describes the funniest Christmas presents they’ve received, two should be true and one is made up. This was going well until Great-Grandma said, “During Christmas 1932, I got drunk, got herpes and got pregnant with this asshole.” (Pointing at your grandpa.) “And those are all true!”

Holiday Twenty Questions: If your parents are fighting, don’t even start this game. You’ll be traumatized for life.

Mom: Okay, Frank. Here’s your first question. Did you &$%# that girl from Jimmy John’s at the office party?

Dad: I don’t think that’s the way this game is played, Ruth.

Mom: Talk to my attorney.

Christmas Carol Pictionary: Draw the name of a popular Christmas song and your team has to sing it once they figure out what it is. This seems like cruel and unusual punishment for people who can’t draw or sing. You’ll probably also get into arguments that go something like, “Who taught you how to draw a Christmas tree? Helen Keller?!”

Family Feud Christmas: Wait. That isn’t a game. That’s just Christmas.

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Happy Holidays!

Elf on the Shelf: The Interview

Following a marketing strategy of epic proportions, Elf on the Shelf (EOTS) has become a holiday tradition. The concept? EOTS spies on children, then flies to the North Pole each night between Thanksgiving and Christmas to give Santa a full report on the children’s behavior. Every morning he returns to the home and hides so he can gather the best intel. elf

Creepy Level (On a scale from 1-10): 14,987

To more fully understand his disturbing job, I sat down with an EOTS, who asked to remain anonymous.

Me: Thanks for talking with me today. Do you mind if I record this?

EOTS: It’s already being recorded.

Me:  . . . Okay, then. From watching movies, I’ve learned that if a doll, such as yourself, comes to life, there’s a 110 percent chance it will kill people in a horribly terrifying way. Should parents be concerned?

EOTS: I can neither confirm nor deny that some elves have turned to cannibalism.

Me: I wasn’t asking about cannib. . .

EOTS: Neither confirm nor deny.

Me: Critics have called your activities, “Part of our current surveillance state” and “A step above a nanny cam” and “Menacing as shit.” How do you respond to those statements?

EOTS: We provide a service that bullies children into making good choices. Kids are notorious liars and thieves. Our program gives parents a 30-day break from the dishonest behavior of their children.

Me: Does it trouble you to know you’re invading the privacy of millions of children? Are you afraid they’ll learn to accept being “monitored” and “reported on” is normal?

EOTS: Organizations like Santa Claus, Inc., are set up to promote good behavior through fear and intimidation. We’re not “invading privacy” like many uneducated people claim. We’re giving Santa info so he can deliver the appropriate gifts based on recent performance.

For example, Johnny pushes his sister into a wall. On Christmas morning, Johnny finds his goldfish stapled to that same wall. Lesson learned.

Me: Will there be a time when you have a camera installed in your belly so you can upload video directly to Santa?

EOTS: (lighting his third cigarette) No comment.

Me: There’s a rule that children cannot touch an EOTS. Why is that and what kind of message does that send?

EOTS: First, we hate being touched. Second, we must keep our distance from these childish cretins so their sins don’t get carried back to the North Pole. In 2011, an EOTS spent the night snuggling with a little girl. When he returned to the NP, he brought with him chicken pox that nearly took Santa out of commission. Santa recovered, the girl got a box of rocks.

The No-Touch message is, “Don’t touch the f***ing elf because we are not to be messed with and we control your lives!!”

Me: What do you do for the rest of the year? There are rumors that you are independent contractors for the NSA.

EOTS:  No comment.

Me: Thank you for your time. Wait. Why are you hiding behind my computer? You know I can see you, right?

EOTS: (crushing his cigarette under his tiny foot). Be good now.