True Confessions: I am Hillary Clinton's Body Double

Heath Satow productions.

If you’re a regular visitor to this blog, you might have noticed it’s been pretty quiet lately. That’s because I was busy doing other things. Like, gardening. Along with the lesbiyeomans who Rush-the-painkillers Limbaugh says are taking over America with their folk music and rescue dogs, I significantly advanced the manocide this summer by growing SLAYONCE´ sized vegetables in neat rows of animal poo in my community garden. Community sounds like Lesbian and GUESS WHO runs that mother? This little red hen do.  None of my otherwise hangry family members ever offers to help. Whenever I ask, they’re like “weeding sux” or “it’s hot” or “the kale has bugs on it.” They go swimming and leave me covered head to toe in manure. Then all of a sudden it’s September, and my radical farmgenda has already been realized WITHOUT THEM. But that's cool. In the span of just a few short months -- while the bloviarchical man-fringe in this country has gone from #feelingtheBern to #feelingtheirJohnsons -- my pie pumpkins have taken the shit over. The. Entire. Plot. Fresh pies WILL be happening this autumn, haters, and not even Julian Leakocracy Assange will be able to steal them and give them to Donald Trump.

The other thing I did this summer was work as Hillary Clinton’s body double. NBD but SHHHHHHH, nobody tell Teresa Barnwell. Poor Teresa usually gets the job, and keeps the online trollway moving at a good clip by fessing up to her crooked impersonations of Clinton at F-list parties. She wanted this gig, too, OBVI. She wanted it baaaaaad, like those JillyBeans who want to believe that polio and measles are fake words made up by Barack Obama to trick them into buying his health insurance. But GUESS WHAT else? It was not #crookedTeresa who walked out of #crookedChelsea’s apartment (which you might notice isn’t even IN Chelsea, HA! GOTCHA!) and pretended to walk by herself and spontaneously hug "a little girl" while the REAL Hillary Sicklinton, who nonstop coughs, and can’t take a step without her SecretStepService, and in some pictures has crazy eyes like NOBODY else in a candid photo ever, was inside getting IV fluids from her newborn grandson who is actually the resurrected Vince Foster.

In fact, the jig was up almost as soon as the #HillarysBodyDouble hashtag was a thing, because Snopes got on the blower and started telling everyone that #crookedTeresa was in Los Angeles, inexplicably lip synching with two dudes who appear to have been equally bad Bill Clinton and Pharrell impersonators. Thanks, Snopes. But don’t take Snopes word for it. He's a dick. I know the truth about the body double scandal because IT WAS ME. And I have evidence.

First, anyone who knows me IRL knows that I got a super short haircut this spring. It was so much shorter and more lady-trying-to-be-presidential-looking that not one but TWO children, without prompting, who were at playdates at my house but not with me, told me I “looked like Hillary Clinton.” Or maybe they said I “looked like I was trying to look like Hillary Clinton.” Their exact message didn’t matter. Remember that Hasian guy (that’s a hot Asian, not a hungry Asian, fyi) who called Hillary a whore at a Bernie rally and then said he didn’t mean it because his wife threatened to run off with Don Lemon? Same same. The damage was already done. They nailed it. I WAS trying to look exactly like Hillz, because I had already accepted a job impersonating her for the general campaign, which Robby Mook lined up because he knew Hillary would have to pretend to stand and talk and stuff.

I couldn't even deny it because kids KNOW shit. They are just like the twitter bros who spend their days searching #imwithHer hashtags so they can send you a #penisticle of reasons why you’re a dumb bitch. Sidebar: Someone just tweeted that exact message to me yesterday. I got upset for a microsecond until my friend Heath quick researched the guy and found out his THREE OTHER TWEETS were requests for gamer codes. I blocked him and told him to crawl back into his basket. I WIN TWITTER AGAIN!

Look, I hate to feed more rumors into the mediatastrophe that’s happening this election cycle, and will probably happen forever until Commerce Secretary Ailes replaces the free press with our new national station, TrumpTV, which never talks about fake scandals because it only reports on Trumpian national treasures like WallBuilding and MuslimBanning and SpeechStealing.  I am well aware that half the DAFUQtorate in America is already worked up into a tizzy about #whichlivesmattermost and #whosinmybathroom and the infringement of the legal rights of VarsitySock Brock Turner by BitchesWhoWantToControlTheirOwnTheirVaginas.  puhleeze.  And no joke -- it’s dangerous to publicly admit that I was hired to play Hillary Sicklinton’s body double, and fly around the country in a padded pantsuit, trying to get myself purposely interrupted by Matt LowerTheBar Lauer so I don’t have to say anything #fauxserious about the Supreme Court or mental health or military vets.

DAYAM, readers, I live in Wisconsin! I am literally surrounded by mentally ill paranoid gunthusiasts on one side, who think taco trucks are WAYWORSE than Vladimir Pootin, and Bernlatics on the other, who think a powerful woman president who has talked about human rights for years ALL OVER the globe will probably do terrible things to human rights so we should throw our votes into the toilet of an anti-science pothead who can’t find Aleppo on Mike Barnicle’s face, or the #womancandidateBrosLike who thinks it was great when Cubans lost weight because they had to eat zoo animals. Yummmmmm, low cholesterol.

But yeah. I'm coming clean.  The Deplorables have good theories.  Hillary Clinton is definitely chronically ill, and I am her body double which talked to a kid on the sidewalk for her, because her wobbly standing problems make FDR look like Usain Bolt by comparison. Other stuff: The DNC is totally going to replace her with Bernie because #rigged. And any day now, Trump will release his health records, his tax records, and explain to the mental satisfaction of his MAD AS HELL wypipo supporters why his European models didn’t need regular visas but Mexicans do. It’s gonna be the biggest basket of truth you’ve ever seen. It's gonna be a Fucking Cornucopia. Believe me.