To: John Podesta

From: HRC

Subject: Locker Room Talk

John:

I think it is very humorous that your first name is slang for a person who consorts with prostitutes.

Emoticon!

HRC

______________________________

To: John Podesta

From: HRC

Subject: Re: Friends

John:

That’s a really hard question!

I hope they don’t ask that at one of the debates! But of course if they were going to do that we’d know in advance because we’re colluding with the media in order to fix this election!

Anyway, I think out of all of the characters on Friends I’m most like Monica. She’s very organized and competent, and I think I possess those qualities, too.

Bill is a complete Joey.

You’re Chandler.

HRC

_________________________________

To: John Podesta

From: HRC

Subject: Manufacturing Jobs

John:

As I was reading about human mannerisms last night I began to drift off on account of my alcoholism and debilitating Parkinson’s Disease. It’s getting harder and harder to hide all my afflictions from the voting public! All I can say is thank God they’re so gullible, stupid and deplorable—they’ll believe anything!! LOL! Imagine if my country actually needed me to help them? I’d probably have just dozed off after taking my meds, and even if I were somehow awake, I bet my hand would be too shaky to even push the button!

The truth is I wish I were as vital and powerful as Vladimir Putin! Just saying his name sends a surge of blood to my old genital regions! Isn’t that ironic? I’m about to become President of the United States of Deploria and all I want to do is pleasure Vladimir Putin!

And kill him.

I want to kill him and pleasure him.

John, did you know that Bill and I had a “safe” phrase?

We did.

“Manufacturing Jobs.”

Bill shouted it out more than once.

I can’t wait to rule the world.

HRC

___________________________________________

To: John Podesta

From: HRC

Subject: Re: Favorite foods

John:

Thanks for the gnocchi recipe!

By the way, I tried the Trump brand steak, and I have to say—amazing! I had no idea a steak could be so delicious, so luxurious!

Really, everything that man touches turns to platinum!

HRC

PS: Hey, I was just thinking, imagine if the public knew that I killed a hooker with Bill back in 92! Boy, that would be a PR disaster! We really dodged a bullet there! And let me tell you, the crossbow, more than just being a truly excellent weapon, is also a real turn-on!

Donald J. Trump: I just hope that Brad was smart and had a prenup like I did. #ArtofTheDeal

Donald J. Trump: Getting married, like ISIS, is no joke– you need to be ruthless when you end it!

Donald J. Trump: It’s a nuclear situation. #VladisaGreatLeader

Donald J. Trump: Brad Pitt, a little flaky. In a golf tournament with him once. No sense for the game.

Donald J. Trump: Quite a bit shorter than me, but still a real looker.

Donald J. Trump: Anyway, when you’re rich and powerful you can have your pick. That’s the American way.

Donald J. Trump: Brad knows that, so why would he stay with damaged goods?

Donald J. Trump: Why would America stay with damaged goods? Time for a change, America! #TrumpIceGreatestWaterEver

Donald J. Trump: Sure, Angelina was really something a few year ago, but now? After all those cancer surgeries? Brad can do better. America can do better! #VoteTrump

Donald J. Trump: Do people notice Crooked and Sick Hillary is copying my airplane rallies – she puts the plane behind her like I have been doing from the beginning.

Donald J. Trump: Crooked and Sick Hillary is taking the day off again, she needs the rest. Sleep well Crooked and Sick Hillary – see you at the debate!

Donald J. Trump: Wonder if Gwyneth Paltrow had anything to do with the end of Brangelina?

Donald J. Trump: Wouldn’t put it past her.

Donald J. Trump: You gotta watch out for the exes. Always come crawling back.

Donald J. Trump: Paltrow married a Brit. Always putting on a fake accent. Don’t trust her.

Donald J. Trump: Both she and Angelina are washed up. Sad.

Donald J. Trump: Bet Jennifer Aniston is happy now.

Donald J. Trump: There’s an American. A real girl next door.

Donald J. Trump: Rachel, and those headlights? Whoah. What American man didn’t want to shtup her?

Donald J. Trump: I would take my chances with her, she’s one Skittle I’d eat regardless of the poison risk. #NoToSyrianRefugees

Donald J. Trump: Did I have sex with Jennifer Aniston? Gentlemen don’t tell. #Probably

Donald J. Trump: Did I have sex with Jennifer Aniston, Gwyneth Paltrow and Angelina Jolie? All I will say is I am very happy with my beautiful wife.

Donald J. Trump: Melania will be the most beautiful First Lady in history!

Donald J. Trump: I know it’s not politically correct to say, but Crooked Hillary has to be the ugliest FLOTUS in history!

Donald J. Trump: Why would we want her as the ugliest POTUS, too?

Donald J. Trump: Brad Pitt hates Crooked Hillary.

Donald J. Trump: I don’t even think Bill had sex with Crooked, Sick Hillary. #WasChelseaAdopted

Donald J. Trump: Crooked Hillary wants to take your 2nd Amendment rights away. Will guns be taken from her heavily armed Secret Service detail? Maybe not!

Donald J. Trump: However, you do have to hand it to Angelina for taking her clothes off in so many movies. Very brave.

Donald J. Trump: Nobody braver than our troops though! Not even naked Angelina!

Donald J. Trump: She never would have had a done a nude scene if she was a Muslim. #FeministsForTrump

Donald J. Trump: Think about it America.

Donald J. Trump: Commemorative Donald Trump coins now available for order. #Buy9The10thForFree

***********************************************************

Hello America!!

I am Melania, the luckiest woman in the world, and I am so happy to be here before you!

Why, you might ask, am I the luckiest woman in the world?

Is it because I am beautiful?

Is it because of my gorgeous dress and luxurious jewelry?

Is it because I am like champagne?

Is it because I am so very rich and famous I never have to wait in line?

Is it because I speak five languages?

Is it because I am white?

(Wait for enthusiastic screaming to subside)

NO!

It is because I am married to the greatest man in the entire world, Donald Trump.

Donald is the perfect husband. He has bought me so many wonderful things! He is so smart and such a great negotiator, and he loves America so much! He wants America to be the best, like him. He wants America to be #1 again!

(Wait for applause)

Thank you for your applause, you are such a classy audience, so very classy!

(Wait for applause)

Some people, some very bad people, say that I copied my last speech from a black woman. This is monkeyshines! I would never do such a thing. I am innocent and I will sue!

(Wait for cheering and celebratory gunshots to cease)

Thank you America, thank you!

Donald Trump, the next President of the United States and author of the hit bestseller The Art of the Deal, is not just my husband, but also my lover.

Yes, and let me tell you, he is as good at making love as he is at making deals!

(Crowd goes wild)

My lover is also tough on terror!

He will not tolerate it!

He will fire it like a bad apprentice!

With Donald you will always feel secure because you know that if any terrorists, or some loser country, were to try any monkeyshines, he would destroy them.

(Pretend to be a sexy cowboy/stripper shooting a gun)

He would. It would be no joke.

(Wag finger)

Let me ask you beautiful Americans, who does Hillary Clinton reminds you of?

Ha, yes, she does remind me very much of an old Jew!

Who else does she remind you of?

Yes, a lesbian for sure! She has no fashion sense, no class. She dresses like a box.

A hag robot! Yes!

And of course, yes, a serial killer. It is in her eyes, the killing.

So many horrible things she reminds us of, so, so many horrible things!

In closing I want to say that Donald Trump is a beautiful, beautiful man. So rich and so successful and so sexy. Not only does he live the American dream, he is the American Dream, and he will restore the American dream for all of you beautiful patriots.

I love you, America, open carry for all, and remember to follow the next President of the United States @realDonaldTrump!

Trump, even attired that way, commanded the subway like a stern and punctual marshall at a luxury golf course, and people knew not to mess with him.

Normally he would never think to take the subway, as it is a filthy and vulgar mode of transportation, but today he wanted filthy and vulgar. His legs spread out expansively, taking up at least two seats, he looked down at his most recent text from Melania and smiled:

“I am to poo you,” it read.

Melania’s English wasn’t very good, but Donald knew exactly what she meant.

It was their beautiful night together.

Every year on the anniversary on their first sex, Donald bought a fast food restaurant in the New York area, fired everybody, and then made Melania work the counter. This year, it was a Dairy Queen, and Donald, disguised as the Burger King, was going to come in and order Melania off the menu and then make her his fast food sex slave for the night.

It was a great tradition, and they both loved it very much.

As Donald sat there on the subway thinking about whether he should purchase and then and torture some of the homeless and desperate as part of fast food sex slave night, a woman approached him.

“The Burger King?” she said.

“You look low rent,” the Burger Trump retorted, “and let me tell you,” he continued, “I would rather be a king than some low rent subway hen.”

The low rent woman had full lips.

“Subway hen?”

Donald ignored her, Tweeting a threat to France.

The low rent woman looked closely at his fingers, as if figuring something out.

Suddenly, the subway came to a screeching halt. Everything went dark and Donald fell to the floor, his Burger King head spilling off and his phone skittering out of his pocket! When he looked up, he and the subway hen, also on the floor, were facing one another, their lips just inches apart– something unspoken burning between them now.

“You’re Donald Trump,” she whispered, “I knew I recognized those tiny, orange fingers!”

The stranger’s breasts heaved upon the filthy, seductive floor of the subway. He stared at the woman and she stared back, their breath hot and real.

Trump inched toward her and she inched toward him.

At that moment Donald’s phone began to ring, picking up an audible message from Melania, “Donald, it is your Queen Dairy, I have customer, and child wants me to make curl with ice cream that I cannot make. Tell her we close? Give her money? I stand by you, my man, even if ice cream disgusting. I still poo you, my king.”

Donald swept the phone away with certainty, like a Commander-In-Chief. And then the lights came on and the subway started up again. The low rent woman got up and dusted herself off and walked away, shivering, “This is the weirdest, fucking grossest day of my life,” she muttered to herself.

“Rosebud, “Donald Trump mouthed, “Rosebud.”

Me: That steak was good.

Rachelle: It was.

Me: Really glad I’m here cuz after the US election really didn’t feel like I’d had enough politics!

Rachelle: Haha!!

Me: What movie would u like to be watching right now?

Rachelle: Babe: Pig in the city.

Me: Yeah, that was good– no nudity though.

Rachelle: Babe was nude.

Me: True.

Me: I thought Lincoln might emancipate a nude slave or something.

Rachelle: Ur thinking Lincoln: Vampire Hunter.

Me: Nude vampire slaves? Why r we here????

Rachelle: U still in the theatre?

Me: YES!

Rachelle: Poor, brave pickle!

Me: Where are u?

Rachelle: Walking home from the subway.

Me: Why didn’t u tell me u were leaving?!

Rachelle: U were asleep. Snoring so horribly, I was embarrassed to know u.

Me: The usher has woken up 3 people that I’ve seen, so I wasn’t alone.

Rachelle: You were probably asleep for about 20 more wake-ups!

Me: Hope Lincoln gets assassinated soon.

Rachelle: That’s not very nice, he was a great American!

Me: Lots of “acting” in this movie. Wigs everywhere.

Rachelle: It’s a nice night for a stroll, and look, I just found a five dollar bill on the street!

Me: ur a very lucky woman.

Rachelle: You make your own luck, they say!

Me: I think there’s about 45 minutes left in this movie.

Rachelle: Why don’t u just leave?

Me: Still might be some tasteful nudity.

Rachelle: U want to see Lincoln nude, don’t u!

Me: No! I’m just not leaving till the slaves are free, dammit! I care!

As you probably know, the 42 year-old fitness enthusiast and Ayn Rand fanboy, is the Republican Vice Presidential candidate. He’s supposed to be vigorous and youthful, and in him we’re to see the hopeful amplification of our aspirations. He’s sort of like a Christian rock band that’s been distilled into a Bro Politician, if that makes any sense. Whatever he’s wearing looks as if it was designed to appeal to somebody else, like a costume, and not something that was an organic manifestation of who he is. He just has the look of somebody who cares more what you think of him than what he thinks of himself.

One thing that drives me crazy about him is that he went for a photo-op at a soup kitchen in Ohio and washed clean dishes for the cameras. What sort of asshole does that? Couldn’t he find a single thing to do that was needed or useful, couldn’t he have reached down deep into the abyss and summoned something sincere? But maybe I’m just blaming Ryan for a political advertising machine that disseminates symbols of intent rather than the actual results of intent. As Ryan would likely say to me in some offensive, imitation gangster accent, “Hate the game, not the playa!”

Fine.

But he lied about the time in which he ran a Marathon back in 1990. It was the only marathon the guy had ever run, and his recorded time of just over 4 hours is really impressive for a normal human being. I mean, if I had ever achieved that I would be immensely proud of the fact and it would be the first thing out of my mouth at every cocktail party I attended.

But Ryan said in an interview that, “I had a two hour and fifty-something marathon,” which he did not. This was not a mistake. This wasn’t a situation where a busy man forgot a small detail about something that took place decades ago amidst the swirl of a chaotic and fantastic life brimming with stunning victories. It was a conscience, willful lie. People who finish one Marathon have that time burned into their brain. Getting the time wrong, by over an hour, would be like forgetting you climbed Mt. Everest. And the difference between a 4-hour Marathon, which is roughly where most fit but not elite runners finish, and breaking the three hour barrier, something that would have placed Ryan 85^th in the Men’s Marathon at the London Olympics, is huge.

I presume that Ryan is a smart guy and that he had to know it would be easy to fact check this, so the only explanation for his lie was that it was a reflex–a primitive  spasm. He didn’t think, but followed the reptile instinct that told him to take this opportunity to make to make himself look better, and so he did, oblivious to consequence. This suggests a kind of compulsion to me, a conscienceless narcissism that would not be out of place amidst the preening amorality of Patrick Bateman in American Psycho.