Dear Diary: The Beto Edition
Dear Diary,
They bought it! I can’t believe they bought it!
My adoring groupies actually think I raised 6.1 million dollars the day I announced my candidacy! Can you believe that? Never underestimate the stupidity of the Average American. Without it, I’d be thrusting hooves up my analytic passage or buffing balls for a living.
I mean, I had my doubts. How could any rational human being believe I managed to draw over six mil in campaign contributions when I can’t even fill a coffee shop with supporters?
Well, they believed it during Hillary's sad-ass excuse for a campaign, why not mine? Plus I’m waaaaay cuter and played in a punk rock band!
And, bless their little derpy hearts, my minions don’t question how long it took me to name a figure, nor does it phase them that I haven’t coughed up a donor list. They are happy to wait until April for “proof” and then devise another delusion to cling to.
How dumb do you have to be?
But really, who cares that 4.5 million is ALLEGEDLY leftover cash from my senatorial race with Ted Cruz who handed me my waxed ass on a silver platter? Or that I copped another million bucks just by raiding the wife’s change jar? And the rest was from my allowance.
It’s all LEGIT.
Money is but a trifle in light of my winsome awesomeness and Master's Degree in Bullshit Flinging. Give the people what they want — an empty suit buffing the balls of the fossil fuel industry. And I’m just the guy for the job. I was born to do it!
And thank god they don’t expect me to actually address policy or present any platform, never mind a cohesive one. After all, all good Democrats know that the only objective we have is ousting Donald Trump and — well, that’s it.
Trump must be punished for besting the Howling Hagbag, and since Mocha Hillary(you know, Kamala Harris) isn’t getting any traction, me and my has been designated to carry the corporatist DNC banner.
And all I have to do is flail my arms and spew empty platitudes! A crooked grin, the occasional subtle bum-wiggle and they are eating out of my well-manicured hand. God bless America!
That’s all for now diary. I’m off to scrub my balls, wax my ass, and perfect my table standing technique. Because let’s face it, that’ll be the only stand I ever take.
