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The Wit, Wisdom and Fashion of Michelle Obama

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This is for all you fashionistas out there like me. Looking good is the best revenge:

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How I admire Michelle. Here's a woman who wrote in her senior thesis that people told her she couldn't get into Princeton--and she wrote it from Princeton. And how wonderful of her to write a thesis on what it is like to be black at Princeton. Why study the works of someone else when you can stick your head up your own ass and talk out of it?

Because there is nothing more important than how you feel in the world.

I know. I'm like that. When I shut my eyes all of you disappear.

I love Miss Resentment.

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Commissar, Michelle has so much to be resentful about: living in a fine house, having taxpayer-paid guys with guns take her shopping for arugula and kale (which the taxpayers also paid for), being worshipped by legions of drooling media sycophants, having to make do on a few million bucks worth of freebies a year.... And on top of all that, she still made the sacrifice and flew for free on Air Force One to enjoy luxury hotel accomodations in Copenhagen. These humilitations she endured for the chance to plead for the IOC to send the Olympic games to Chicago FOR THE CHILDREN!!!! And in spite of all that effort, those bastards had the nerve to turn a deaf ear. It disgusting how cruel some people can be. I don't blame her for being resentful. If such things were to happen to me, I don't know what I'd do.

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You know, Opiate, I do take your point. I was in a store getting something and the clerk, a superannuated queen, sniffed at me, no doubt thinking that I was going to try some advance when all I wanted to do was give money for merchandise. Store merchandise. So flooded were my eyes with tears that I'm glad I made it home safely. Of course my leaning on the horn all the way might have helped. If I am hurting the entire world ought to hurt too.

After spending all night drenching my bed with salty tears, I managed to take myself in hand and rise this morning and find my way to work. I expected all the streets to be festooned with black crepe, and was affronted when the sun came out from behind a cloud.

It's sucks to be me.

And to be Michelle.


 
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