As I ranted two days ago, Michelle Obama is catching flack in the media for being too sexy–for daring to go sleeveless. What the media fails to realize is that there are presidential prostitutes aplenty.
Yesterday, I recounted the first five FLOTUS (First Ladies of the United States) Floozies. Well, dear readers, it’s time to crack open another cold can of awesome.
Here are your final five floozies, in no particular order:
Our girl Harriet, in a feat unparalleled by any of our other Floti—kept the White House party going throughout the run up to the Civil War, managing to organize the seating arrangements for her formal dinner parties in order to keep Confederates and Damn Yankees from being forced to sit next to one another.
Angry Black Lady wonders what the hell she was doing on the side in order to keep that peace? Hrm? Fools were trying to secede and this chick was worried about her guest list. Brava, Ms. Lane.
“Her only error in judgment was when she invited friends on board the USS Harriet Lane for a party, only to be sharply reprimanded by her angry uncle and press since the ship was government property.”
Yeah right. The only error in judgment that we know of.
This broad threw a party on a fucking boat. In the 1850s. Come on y’all, can you imagine if they’d had Facebook back then?
Status Update: “Harriet is sandwiched between Robert E. Lee and Jefferson Davis. LOL!!!11”
“Just Say No To Drugs.” Because Nancy Reagan never could.
I mean, bitch, please. The only reasonable explanation for Nancy’s hell-bent crusade to rid the world of all drugs is that she was a (recovering?) addict herself. She wasn’t content to do away with her thirsty lust for her particular brand of poison. Oh no. She dropped the anti-drug peoples’ elbow on e’rybody, including such family-friendly drug users as these:
Thanks a lot, Nancy. Just because you couldn’t control yourself while living it up as Ronny Reagan’s gal during the golden era of Hollywood—doing fistfuls of cocaine with Hollywood giants—doesn’t mean you had to harsh all of our mellows.
Recently, Nancy praised Obama’s reversal of George W. Bush’s ban on stem cell research. And she’s a Republican (or at least her husband was, and really, who the fuck cares what political party she actually identifies with.)
Not falling in line with conservative principles? Of course, she’s fucking high.
Well, well, well. What have we here?
A FLOTUS with a goddamn stripper name, that’s what. Psst! Hey, Ladybird! I CAN SEE YOUR ARMS. Quit trying to hide your brazen sleevelessness with high-end couture and silk georgettes. We are not amused.
You’re the reason Jackie and Michelle O started their whole War on Sleeves. I hope you’re pleased with yourself.
Oh and Ladybird? It’s obvious that you have a serious club drug problem:
Look at that smile and how she’s twirling. You just know a trance beat and X is all that’s driving her. I bet she’s hiding some blow pops, a couple glowsticks, and a whistle underneath all of that silk.
Jacqueline Onassis Kennedy
Jesus Christ, woman.
PUT THOSE ARMS AWAY.
The only difference between you and the current FLOTUS Floozy is that Michelle O is all free-thinking and shit, and I’m fairly certain you, my dear, are a Stepford Wife:
It’s ok, Jackie. We understand. That silverware and china is fascinating.
The Big O. Sleevelessly going where no FLOTUS has gone before. Hosting a party with Earth Wind and Fire,
hosting a party with Stevie Wonder,
hosting culinary students in the White House kitchen,
and unleashing (probable) sleevelessness upon homeless people as she serves food in a soup kitchen, all the while telling the media to fuck right off:
“If I want to wear no sleeves to hear my husband speak, that’s what I’m going to do.”