Michelle Malkin

Michelle Malkin.
Christ…it’s enough to make me wanna write a book (TOTALLY fictional, of course) about a child born to immigrant parents who grew up in America with a strange last name and dark skin.
The child, a bright girl, endured years of teasing and grew bitter, longing for anything resembling positive attention.
She eventually attended a very liberal college where, much to her disappointment, there were far too many equally bright, equally pretty young girls for her to ever stand out from the crowd and get the attention she craved.
Then it happened. One night, drunk and angry, she made some offhand remark about people of color. Her comment was misheard by those present, some of whom had been nursing their own rebellious feelings (and who hasn’t had those when surrounded by the smug self-assuredness of rich, liberal, ignorant crotch-spawn?)…
Nevertheless, the misunderstood epithet resulted in something the desperate, young craver had never felt before – the light of positive attention.
The very next day, mostly as an experiment, the budding young neocon engaged in an argument with one of her sociology professors. Amazing! Not only did this seem to anger the other pretty young girls, but her spunky, take-no-prisoners style seemed to catch the eye of some boys who sat quietly in the back.
Before you could say Richard Milhous Nixon, the young sprite was being invited to participate in gatherings, meetings…even to write a “balance” piece for that damn left-wing student paper!
The button-down crowd had never had much success attracting cute chicks…especially cute, sorta-minority chicks. They had only a very few Camilla Parker-Bowles looking harridans who refused to put out unless you presented them with notarized proof of the size of your trust fund.
Job interviews followed…offers, opportunities, meetings…
It never once occurred to our heroine that, like a punch drunk champ whose manager is hand picking no talent stumblebums, that her ensuing string of “victories” and climb up the ladder had far more to do with the fact that she was a chocolately bit of vicious sweetness who DIDN’T look like Camilla, than with her amazing footwork and vicious right hook.
Eventually, she married an equally bright boy who was more than happy to stay at home and be her bitch while she waded into the world of pissing people off and being paid for it. Pointless, nonsensical yammering…who would ever have thought it could be a meal ticket?
As the story draws to a close, our heroine is beginning to sense the truth…that she isn’t really very bright, and is commonly wrong about most things. But what, then, could be behind her meteoric rise to success…why do people heap all this attention on her?
Sadly, full awareness will never be achieved by our lead character, for as she’s pondering these very questions she chokes to death on a slightly oversize bit of food, which is totally ironic because she fucking well TOLD her goddamn useless bitch of a husband to cut it up into BITE SIZED pieces!

Total work of fiction. But one can hope.


One Response

  1. Similarly, I feel the same way about Sarah Silverman

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