Dear Mr. Avenatti,
Honey, when I see you on TV, I go grab a glass of red and a few Reduced-Fat Triscuits and make it a party. Thank you for bringing a little sump'n-sump'n back to my life.
I mean, it is so refreshing to see a man in this kabuki theater we're calling politics these days who doesn't have those little white spray-tan cups under his eyes. And who isn't wearing a bad rug, or doing a comb-over, or Hair Club for Men.
And who has some coglioni, for God's sake. And knows how to defend a lady.
AND who finally stands up to that Halloween Limited Edition Orange Jet-Puffed Marshmallow in the White House. Who my 13-year-old niece could beat at arm wrestling.
You know. President Spanky. And I gratefully lay his new nickname at your Italian-leather clad feet.
Keep it coming, sweetheart. This is the most fun I've had since January 20, 2017. Randy Spears. Who knew?
In bocca al lupo,
and Anthony Scaramucci's fourth cousin, once removed
(Maybe you could give him some lessons, right?)