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I’ve sat in the darkness and sobbed salty, wet tears… tears from knowing that no one has ever suggested I’m the Smartest Guy in the Room and … sigh … never will.

It’s all good and well though, cuz I know I’m not alone.

When I watch Sarah Huckabee-Sanders walk into the Press Briefing Room of the White House, I think much the same about her.

Intellect need not apply. Sarah is today’s Queen of Grand Fiction. We all know who the King is.

I feel humiliated and dirty like a well-worn diaper when I watch and listen to her, maybe even like a male rape victim… beat up and confused.

But c’mon, really, is that a fair assessment?

Sarah’s doing a job, paying the bills, makin’ the bacon. She has conviction and blind faith. She has more balls than Sean Spicer (Spicey) was ever endowed.

No one has ever accused her of sexually harassing the poor men and women of the press. There’s never a suspicion that she’s grabbed anyone by the pussy or penis. She’s just good folk.

So, is Huckabee-Sanders just a hard-working Mom who’s found a place in the world to bring in a few dollars to support her family? Is any level of bottom feeding acceptable when it comes to feeding Scarlett, Huck, and George? Does she peer into her morning mirror and smile at herself with satisfaction at an important job well-done?

My only answers must be… drumroll please… NO. NO. And please NO.

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Huckabee-Sanders is a propagandized parrot that grew up at the knee of ignorance who continues to chew and regurgitate beefy Washington Whoppers fed to her in the back rooms of Maniac Mansion.

She can’t help it. Her ignorant sneers of disgust and self-deception are built-in.

It’s in her genes. After all, her father Mike Huckabee, former Arkansas Governor, was interviewed by Canada’s Rick Mercer once, and asked this question:

Our capitol building in Canada is actually a downscale model of your Capitol building, except it’s made out of ice. It’s an igloo, you see. Now, we’re worried about global warming and the fact that it might, uh, melt, so we’re putting a dome over it but in order to pay for it we have to attract tourists. Would you be interested in visiting Canada’s National Igloo?”

Huckabee smiled into the camera, and looking the perfect politician, beamed congratulations to Canadians on the success of their campaign.

“Hi, I’m governor Mike Huckabee of Arkansas, wanting to say, congratulations, Canada, on preserving your National Igloo.”

The very same Mike Huckabee attempted runs at the presidency in both 2008 and 2016, proud daughter Sarah at his side. Warms my heart.

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Sarah and Dad Mike

Just like her boss, Sarah is totally fascinating to watch. She’s a 35 year old buzz bomb.

Normally, you know, I take a passing, ho-hum, interest in American politics.

But the past year’s fun and frolics in Washington have me mesmerized. I can’t help it. I’m totally entranced by the characters and plotlines that are moment-to-moment stunning in beauty and scope.

I’m in awe of this scenario playing out in much the same way I felt when I stood at the rim of the Grand Canyon and looked over the magnificence. It feels otherworldly and breathtaking and… dangerous.

Huckabee-Sanders is a Waste Management officer that collects all the foul, ugly “stuff” off the floor of Trump’s Oval Office and then gleefully returns to the Press Room with a disdainful curl of her lip. Once installed at the lectern, she opens the garbage bag and begins flinging the musty trash into the gobsmacked gathering.

It’s hilarious and fascinating… and yes, scary as all hell.

Here, let me put it another way.

In my musical world, I play with a little cool gadget called a looper.

The looper is a metal box, about the size of a cigarette package (do people still smoke cigarettes?) that sits on the floor with a button (my button is definitely smaller than yours!).

When I want to tape a short segment of my guitar playing, I press the button with my foot and the loop records my guitar licks until I press the button with my foot once again.

When I come back around to the same place in the song I just recorded, I press the looper button twice with my foot and it replays the section I recorded earlier.

This allows me to play another slice of music that adds a layer onto what I’ve already played. In effect, I become a one-man band as I play with myself (hmmm… maybe I should re-word that section! Fuhgettaboutit!).

Sarah Huckabee-Sanders often reminds me of my looper in the manner that she says something totally fabricated and ridiculous, and then when questioned further, loops back and adds another sonic layer of absurdity over the base line she’s already laid.

Sarah’s a press room virtuoso (a) with a southern drawl.

Each day, senselessness is produced anew.

As Frank Bruni wrote in the New York Times this November: “For some 20 minutes every afternoon, down is up, paralysis is progress, enmity is harmony, stupid is smart, villain is victim, disgrace is honor, plutocracy is populism and Hillary Clinton colluded with Russia if anyone would summon the nerve to investigate her (because, you know, that never, ever happens). I watch and listen with sheer awe.”

I could dish up innumerable strange utterances that have come from Huckabee-Sanders throat but I can’t type and giggle incessantly at the same time.

Sure, I normally abhor reality TV, but the real-life version is too intoxicating to ignore. If only Shakespeare had lived to write his comedies and tragedies in the 21st century. The source material is endless.

The cast and characters of this American tragi-comedy have given me something akin to ice cream brain-freeze. I love it and I hate it.

Just because reporters say something over and over and over again doesn’t start to make it true.”

Hopefully, one day Sarah Huckabee-Sanders will listen and take her own words to heart.

A bright, active imagination like hers could be put to productive use if she joined a club of writers and added her voice to the world of Grand Fiction.

In the meanwhile, Huckabee-Sanders brings bittersweet levity and laughter to millions like myself as we await the arrival of divinely perfumed spring.

I avidly look forward to Sarah’s next press conference and find myself pondering if maybe… maybe… sweet songsters Hall & Oates were prescient when writing their tunes in the 1970’s:

If you feel like leaving you know you can go
But why don’t you stay until tomorrow?
And if you want to be free
You know all you got to do is say so
Sarah, smile
Oh, won’t you smile awhile for me, Sarah?
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