You can say one thing about bebe Zygote that's sure: living in the womb these five years has led to a sheltered existence where presidents and peas are always suspect.
She naively dreams in vain of a better world, and persists in doing so out of a sheer zygotish belief that she can will the world into reform just by waiting out the storm.
I recall how our same brave Little One, as a college sophomore, refused to vote for Ronald Reagan for president because she believed that an actor (read "pretender," "entertainer," "charlatan" "poser") could never impart to the sacrosanct Oval Office the dignity it deserved. (And had it been known that Good Wife Nancy consulted astrologers, little Zygote would have probably set her hair on fire, if only she had some.)
But she was proven wrong. The Bedtime for Bonzo star actually wore a tie to work every day for two terms, earned the respect of most of his critics, and as far as anyone can say, never acted out his sexual fantasies while on the job the way slick willy Billy Clinton did, probably because Reagan was God fearing enough not to have any. But AmZyg always thought him goofy, even though she liked many of his political stands. Especially that one about the sanctity of all unborn human life.
Now, Mr. T may just surprise us all in the same way. Also goofy, at least he is earnest. And if he does succeed, I may have met the reason this morning at a banquet for a charity in Compton. The founder and president of A Thousand Praying Grannies was sitting one table away from me. With a team like that in your corner, you, Mr. Trump, cannot possibly go wrong.
Now, pray Grannies. Pray, pray PRAY and then keep on praying. And when your knees grow sore, I've got some prayer pillows to sell you.
All aboard,
Tiny AmZyg
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