Yesterday was a pretty amazing day. I feel like a gentleman has returned to the White House. You know, a guy who appreciates classical music and poetry and good wine. A guy who could possible get through an entire cabinet meeting without scratching his balls. A guy who calls people by their rightful names rather than a bunch of nicknames suitable for my dog.
I could write a commentary today, but for some reason, I’m more interested in being an idiot. So, without further ado.
Separated at birth
Yeah, I can’t tell the difference either.
I could act right today and write something really thoughtful and brilliant, but I really don’t have it in me. So instead of discussing the call to service from yesterday, let’s talk about Di’s hair. I truly believe that it is a hair helmut comprised of Kevlar and tin foil so that her brain is not penetrable by bullets or alien brain manipulation.
Case in point. DiFi’s hair in the 1970’s
Not that different from the 1980’s
OK, she’s little scary with the automatic weapon but this wasn’t long after the Moscone and Milk murders. Nah, this is just scary. She probably hates her hair in that picture.
Here we can see DiFi as she ages but her hair does not.
This would be the beginning of her “red” period. Her jowls drop but the hair remains dark and in place.
More red. I am woman hear me roar.
I would say this is from her “Hepburn” period.
The CNN version of the hair helmet.
Halloween at Feinstein’s Senate Office. (You know she hates that picture)
And yesterday’s version, which I’m sure everyone noticed the same thing I did. In that brutal Northern wind, it did not move.
No Kevlars were injured in the preparing of this blog post. More jackassery later. I may have to add a category for jackassery.