Miz Bulimia USA strolled across the set-ignoring the Uber, just as he had ignored her-like a model with large phony boobs on a cat walk. Her gorgeous mop of auburn hair flowed down her shoulders and  wisped into her deep brown eyes. She had a gorgeous tan. Perhaps a little too tan? Thinking of people of color. Sorry.  I mean it’s winter. How does one get and keep a tan like that? Must ask.

She made me feel fat. Okay, I’m born again. A good Christian but not quite as humble and submissive as I should be. A little too much Palin in me, I guess. Love to hunt and shoot the bare. That’s a laugh line. Fortunately I chose among the wide variety offered on  market a religion that teaches, preaches and practices forgiveness. I’d nearly worn my string of beads out.

Miz Eat-it-up-throw-it-up, understand she actually has a vomitarium in her mansion in the Hamptons, slouched gracefully in the arm-chair and crossed her long slender legs. My, dear, I could almost see up the lagoon.

“Darling, Rhoda” I gushed. “Beautiful as ever. How do you keep your figure?”

“Exercise. Exercise. Exercise. Proper diet. And, fortunately, I’m barren. My husbands & I adopt and raise the lost and abandoned -of every color-as all good Christians should.”

“Of course. The really really black one from that funny country in Africa-or was it Australia- is so precocious and special.”


“And you. You have such a lovely tan. However do you keep it?”

“It’s my natural color. Year in. Year out.”

“Dark skin in the woodpile?” I dared to tease.

“My great grandmother’s roots are none of your business. I am here as a one precentor. THE one precentor. Taxes, not paying any, is our main objective. The economic structure of this wonderful land must remain the most successful economic system the world has ever known. Pure capitalism.  My husband and I sell vast quantities of the best and healthiest condiments-at the best prices-to the military to nourish our brave young troops. Otherwise how could they eat the slop some others in this country would feed them? It is our hope that those we must deal with remember that.”

“I’m sure they will,”  Oh my, I did touch a nerve. Might’s well hit another. “Didn’t see you in church last Sunday.”

“Of course not. Our church is of the ivy coated tall spire variety. Church of England.  Our God is the same. Our covenants differ.”

You can say that again. “Have you anything more you’d like to say to our vast audience? Your beauty, grace and candor entertains us.”

“I’m sure it does. Life styles of the elite has always  entertained the masses.”

“Bread and circus.” She tossed her hair. Switched legs and crossed ankles. My nose awakened. “What is that heavenly scent?” She out-sniffed me. “Is there anything else you might relate to the multitude who love you?”

“Yes. Be brave. Be loyal. Be happy in your work. It’s money like mine that keeps you going. I’m hiring grooms and gardeners now.”

She rose with no further ado and vanished from the screen. My cameramen knew the ropes. I wiggled and rolled my eyes.

4 Responses

  1. Another wild and wicked romp!
    Love it!

    Naughty yet insightful, as ever!
    [I hope you’re ashamed of yourself, you naughty, naughty girl … NOT!]
    ::: shaking finger :::

    Keep up the good work.
    The best insights come with a seasoning of humor and yours are great!


  2. OK, I have to agree with Emerald!
    This is both wickedly hilarious but full of truth to boot!

    That is the best kind of writing!

    If this book project you are working on is like this stuff, you’ll have a runaway best seller!

    Doug / DDWiz


  3. Dear Bettejo —

    You are spot on and I agree with Doug and Emerald too — naughty and wicked, but in the nicest possible way! Humor truly is the most effective messenger of wisdom!



    • I’m watching strikers everywhere. Isn’t this something? maybe I can work up something funny. Try to interview a serious 1%er. I actually think they’ve all moved to Paraguay. Love you Me


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