Scribblings

What’s the point?

What is the point of the White House Correspondents’ Dinner? And who in their right mind would agree to be the host? You get asked to a dinner that is based on satire, humor and bashing icons that the rest of the year you have to pretend to respect.  You do your best and then, when the dinner is over, you get completely trashed for being mean. Every year as this event gears up and starts looking for a host, I imagine comedians all over the country peer at their phones with fear that they will get the call.

And poor Sarah H. She was sent as the sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. Shouldn’t surprise anyone. This wouldn’t be the first time a man sent a woman to do a dirty job he didn’t want to, or couldn’t, do. She sat there looking as though there was a stick up her ass, trying to pretend she was a regular person able to take some good-natured ribbing. I don’t think she could have looked more uncomfortable if the POS currently occupying the White House was under her on that chair.  But then, he wouldn’t be. She clearly doesn’t meet his stringent standards for beauty and size.

There was a time when we had presidents with class who would attend this affair with their spouse and laugh and join in the fun. In case you haven’t noticed, POS has no class, doesn’t go anywhere with his spouse unless she is forced into submission, and wouldn’t know a good joke if it bit him in the butt. And sending Sarah as a substitute was just pathetic… kinda like those bone spurs he used as an excuse to send someone else to die for him in Vietnam.

Let’s retire this dinner to the trash heap of history where is belongs. It’s simply too painful to watch anymore. If the guy at the top doesn’t get the joke, there is none.

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