On Wisconsin. Or more correctly “In Wisconsin.” We are here in Cheeseland for the Wisconsin primary to try and get these people to vote for us. And it is not going well.
You see the people in this state are very strange. Almost retarded. They sure talk funny and are obsessed with cheese. Not even tasty cheese. Not Gruyère or Brie or Gouda. Cheddar. Plain government cheddar cheese. They love to wear plastic hats shaped into cheese wedges and cheer for some baseball team called the Fudge Packers or something. It is all very confusing for a girl from Europe.
I have been going to a few events on my own based on the advice of Laura Bush. She told me I could be a great advocate for Donald and get people to vote for him by charming them just the way Laura did. I mean some First Ladies couldn’t do it. Pat Nixon and Betty Ford were always drunk so that didn’t work. Roslynn Carter only attracted serial killers like John Wayne Gacy. Lady Bird was too ladylike and couldn’t mix with the common people. Nancy Reagan was too aloof and pretentious. Believe it or not the First Lady who was the best at is was Bug Eyed old Barbara Bush. She would go into an American Legion Hall and eat some wings down a beer and wipe her mouth on her sleeve and fart. The rubes loved it. And she loved Wrestling just like Donald. Funny what people latch on to you know?
So I decided to do an event in Madison Wisconsin. This is a dinky little college town that thinks it is all that. The way the people here talk about it makes you laugh. They talk about the nightlife and the restaurants and the artistic community like it was Paris instead of being a hemorrhoid on the asshole of America. I mean if you have been in New York or Paris or London or Tokyo or even Boca Raton you have to laugh at their pretentious twaddle.
Corey set me up with an event at a catering hall right outside the University of Wisconsin. I think they actually call it a “supper club.” Not a supper club like they have in New York where you dress in black tie and dance to the music of a big band orchestra. More like fish sticks on a vinyl tablecloth with a one legged toothless goober playing polka music on his accordion. Anyhoo I had to tough it out and take one for the team. Just like when I had to let Frank Deford come on my tits so my modeling company would get the Sports Illustrated photo shoot. But that’s another story.
When I walked in I felt like I had stepped into a Todd Browning movie. Or for you more illiterate American readers it was just like the bar in the first Star Wars. What a bunch of misshapen losers. I accepted a bunch of wilted flowers from a cross eyed school girl with a stained jumper, listened to an off key rendition of America the Beautiful and made a few short remarks. Then I sat down to sign autographs and to meet the voters.
The first Wisconsinite in the line sort of set the tone. He was a large greasy man in a sweat stained green sports jersey with a big G on it. He had on ill-fitting sweat pants that he had relieved himself in several times. He took my hand with a limp handshake and started mumbling about secret routers and would Donald have the Justice Department investigate Governor Walker if he won. Corey grabbed him and wrestled him away. Great. Another lawsuit.
Next a raddled desiccated old crone dressed in dandruff covered black velvet came up to the table. She was accompanied by a shifty eyed beta male carrying a little dog. I couldn’t believe it but it looked like he was sticking his finger into the dog’s anus and then smelling it. I was weirded out.
Oh did I tell you that this elderly bleached blond claimed to be a professor at the University. That couldn’t be right could it? I mean she could barely put together a coherent thought. She reminded me of Bette Davis in “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane.” I guess Baby Jane became a Law Professor. She was a lethal mix of pomposity and ignorance that I had not run across since the last time I spoke to Lawrence O’Donnell. Anyway she was screeching away about legal issues and how Donald had to appoint the right person to the Court and strangely enough about not wearing shorts. It was very disconcerting. Then she demanded that the government find a cure for people who had lost their sense of smell. Which was obviously her problem since her boyfriend smelled of desperation and dog feces. Luckily the advance team stepped in and forced them away.
The stream of Wisconsin Weirdos continued. A wiry gentlemen who claimed to be a private eye who wanted to rant about reality TV and that Donald appoint some guy named Turley to the Supreme Court. A flaming gay man of about fifty with tufts of hair growing out of his ears who said he was fabulous and wanted Donald to name a “Clumber” as the Official National Dog. Weirdo after weirdo. Wisconsin seems like the epicenter of weirdness in the United States. It is the Area 51 of fuckupedness.
I can’t wait to get out of here.