This. Is. The. Last. Straw. (At least for this month. We hope.)
It’s bad enough that, after ordering a missile strike against bad-guy Assad last week, your husband’s policy in Syria is still ping-ponging back and forth; he’s rattling his saber at North Korea; his press secretary had to come back and assure us that, on second thought, Hitler, was a bad guy, too. And Russia? There’s not enough ink.
None of the above is your fault.
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But the friggin’ Easter Egg Roll? Girl, it’s on the ropes — news reports say it’s going to be a disaster! And it’s not unfair to say that you bear some of the blame. It’s not sexist, either. Don’t you think First Gentleman Bill Clinton, who’s just a big kid himself, would have had this thing nailed down on Jan. 21? And didn’t President Obama seem to genuinely have fun running around and reading to the kids and whatnot?
(Speaking of books, getting the Easter Egg Roll in gear, even at this late date, could help make up for that cringe-inducing session where you were reading Dr. Seuss to sick children in the hospital. Absolutely, positively everybody looked unwell. But that 25-carat diamond ring was the bomb! Conflict-free, no?)
Monday’s Easter Egg Roll, a 138-year tradition on the White House South Lawn, is on track to be an anemic, poorly planned rush job, with way fewer than the 37,000 people who attended last year; reportedly only one “Sesame Street” character (and the cuts to PBS haven’t even happened yet); and a general Trumpiness to the whole affair.
According to the New York Times, y’all got a heads-up in February from the panicky Wells Wood Turning & Finishing company, alarmed that no one had ordered the commemorative wooden eggs for the event. And — they’re no dummies — they tweeted! “FYI manufacturing deadlines for the Easter eggs are near. Please reach out!” said a post directed at the president, daddy’s girl Ivanka — and you, FLOTUS.
Melania, wives get it: Your husband gets on your last nerve, doesn’t he? He didn’t escort you up the White House steps for the Obama-Trump handoff. A video caught him turning your smile into a frowny face on Inauguration Day. Sad.
But your adopted nation needs you. Your days as a hard-working immigrant are not over, not now that you’re first lady. You need to be one of those immigrants who, like so many others whom you husband, unfortunately, has made frown, makes a contribution to this gonna-be-great-again nation.
You’ve got to move to the White House. You’re costing us — gazillions. It’s just not right. Your weekend jaunts to Palm Beach have stretched the Secret Service too thin. Local law-enforcement budgets are pushed to the max. You’re holed up in Trump Tower at great expense. The Secret Service has requested a $60 million funding increase to protect you and the other high-flying Trumps and close aides next year.
We know that by moving to the White House, you will be slumming. Tough. Consider it giving back.
Plus, once you move, you can find your voice, take up a cause. Like the Easter Egg Roll, it’s tradition. You’ve been a bit enigmatic, coming across as rather … hard-boiled. You said you were going to attack online bullying. What’s up with that? No matter, we have a few suggestions:
▪ Advocate for the nation’s elderly, especially those at risk of going hungry. (Wink!)
▪ Don’t you think more Americans with health insurance is better than fewer? (Wink!)
▪ You could push for, um, recently revoked workplace protections for women. Now, who would have done that, hmmm? (Raised eyebrow.)
But start small — help get the Easter egg thing right.
Just roll with it, girl.