Now that the Democratic elite have successfully defenestrated Joe Bye-den, America must brace for an ear-piercing possibility:
Presi-Brat Coconut Tree Harris.
(Don’t understand me? Sorry, oldie!)
I don’t care what the polling says. General elections in the US always hang on the most nimble of knife-edges, the final result a toss-up that teeters on the fickle feels of independents and fence-sitters.
As she’ll never let us forget, even Hillary Clinton won the popular vote — so by my calculation, there’s a 50-50 chance Crazy Kam actually wins.
And if that giggle-filled dystopia comes to pass, this is — I imagine — the scene in January 2025:
There she is gulping down the herstory, strutting in her revenge-red pantsuit onto the balcony of the U.S. K-apitol Building (renamed for the inauguration).
With a fist pump and a wink to her former paramour Willie Brown, she thinks to herself, ‘He’s still got it at 90.’
Dumpy Doug Emhoff is there, beaming and licking the innards of a jelly donut off his fingers.
As Second Gentleman, he led a campaign against ‘toxic masculinity’. At this point, Kamala would settle for any masculinity whatsoever.
But President H has so much to be proud of today.
After defeating The Donald in a hard-fought election, she unleashed the IRS on all ten Trump grandchildren driving the family underground.
Rumor has it Eric Trump is rallying a rebellion of viking-helmeted loons who also look strangely mole-like.
But that’s a problem for another day.
‘It’s Momala’s turn!’ she shrieks.
Dr Jill Biden, still seething over the coup that foiled her plans to rule the country through ventriloquism, is seen visibly vibrating in her end-of-row seat.
She’s left Sleepy at home in Delaware with a tub of Breyers.
Up front, next to Vice President George Clooney, is First Daughter Frida Kahlo, I mean Ella Emhoff.
She looks dashing in a Calvin Klein keffiyeh and matching Palestinian-flag shift.
VP Clooney nods approvingly, his ivory veneers glittering in the January sun.
He was tapped to be running mate after hammering one of the final nails into Comatose Joe’s Presidential coffin.
But Amal Clooney, now-Secretary of Defense, is the real winner.
In her first official act, she had Seal Team Six grab Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and deliver him to the International Criminal Court for swift prosecution.
The Surgeon General is Dr. Dre, because he has more robust medical credentials than Dr. Jill. (Plus, Kamala loved smoking weed and listening to him back in the 70s.)
And Kimberley Cheatle has been restored to her rightful position as Secret Service Director. For in this administration, diversity will trump credentials!
Kamala looks out over the dozens in attendance. Since gasoline is now illegal, most found it too onerous to ride their bikes into DC.
And so she begins her historic address:
‘Today is what yesterday wanted to be, and tomorrow this will be our yesterday.
We stand here as a nation, which is a country, but not a continent, but part of a continent with other countries and nations.
We are all children of the community, which was a sitcom, unburdened by coconuts who lived together in commune.
I’ve never been to Europe. Amen.’
Thanks to America’s Border Czarina that wasn’t, our collective goose will be cooked. On a gas-free stove, of course.
Sofa so ugly
Trump VP pick, dumpy couch-potato J. D. Vance, is already deflating like a West Wing whoopee cushion and slumping low in the settee of Republican estimations.
The brazen Buckeye is in deep yogurt after feline-loving females like Jennifer Aniston bit back at his bitchy trashing of Kamala as a ‘childless cat lady’.
Meanwhile, some whisper that Don feels regret over selecting the lackluster, sexist sofa-surfer. Can you blame him?
Billy the bully
Speaking of hayseeds, Billy Ray Cyrus has exposed himself as an abusive jerk in a newly unearthed recording where he’s heard berating every woman who’s ever suffered him in his 62 years.
Of his third wife and latest ex, Aussie singer Firerose, he said: ‘You’re a selfish f***cking b**ch.’
He labelled his famous daughter Miley a ‘devil’ and a ‘skank’; his youngest, Noah, a ‘slut’; and their mom Tish – his second wife – ‘scum of the earth’.
Now Miley insiders says this was the ‘last straw’ and that Bilious Billy is ‘dead to her’. For a talentless man who has only ever found relevance and fortune through the sparkling women in his life, that will no doubt be the greatest punishment of all.
Gold meddling
The Paris Olympics appear to have lifted the prudish 2020 Tokyo ‘intimacy ban’, dishing out 300,000 condoms to the 10,000-odd athletes who’ve descended on the city. (That’s 10 per person per week!)
Meanwhile, the ‘recyclable’ cardboard-box beds and wafer-thin mattresses provided by the cheese-eaters have been mercilessly mocked. But no fear, well-groomed British diver Tom Daley filmed himself jumping up and down on his in all-four formation – proving they can take quite the beating.
Muscle hustle
Daley’s diving teammate and greedy gold-medal winner Jack Laugher whines that he doesn’t make enough in the pool, so he and other strapping sports girls and boys are supplementing their incomes by baring their Speedo-covered bits on OnlyFans.
These tacky titans have no shame but plenty of followers – including impressionable youngsters, whose understanding of Olympic grit, determination and bravery will forever be tarnished by this disgusting smut.
Lonely Queen Jennifer
For her Hamptons bday bash this week, JLo channeled Bridgerton’s lonely Queen Charlotte and rang in 55 with a themed soiree. Conspicuously absent: her estranged, moody husband who was presumably too busy doing who knows what.
If she was trying to lure him up Long Island in her busty period gown, perhaps powdered wigs and ballroom dance weren’t the best bait.
Next year she should blow out the candles at Fenway Park with Hooters wings and waitresses. Ben would definitely show up for that.
Melania bares all
It seems elusive former First Lady Melania Trump may have beeen absent from the stump for good reason – the plucky glamorpuss has been putting pen to paper, writing her memoir which is cleverly titled ‘MELANIA’.
We don’t yet have a release date (sometime before the election, we’re told) and there’s no word on the titillating revelations tucked inside – but who cares, we’ll all be reading.