Clowns To The Left, Jokers To The Right

Though it shames me to admit it, to feel it in the first place, I confess I am deeply in love with Ivanka Trump.

Her face so streamlined and non-wind-resistant it must have been worn down over the years from all that bluster snorting out of Papa's open maw. The exquisite play between her chin and bottom lip betray a real human inside that body, that frame, that life. Her father. His world-devouring ego. How unfortunate to have been given everything in life and still, still...

I like to imagine that Papa Trump gives family talks the way he gives public speeches - his potholed cantelope of a head pivoting first extreme right, then rolling across to extreme left to read from the two sets of identical prompters set up at the sides of the room. I always am overcome by a temptation to stuff ping pong balls into his mouth as it swings from one side to the other. When you first notice it it seems hilarious, awkward, extreme, stiff, over-coached. And then later on, after you've seen it a few dozen times it seems hilarious, awkward, extreme, stiff, over-coached. It's as if Sean Spicer's charisma coach took Trump off to the side one day and gave him a few tips. While it may not be working a charm Trump obviously thinks it is and therefore he must now sack Spicer so he can have the charisma coach to himself. My first recommendation would be to add a third teleprompter dead center, thereby forcing Trump to appear as if he is actually talking to a) the people in the room and b) the viewing public at home, not to mention c) not the security staff lining the walls.

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