Excuse me, dahrlings, but...

You Like Me! You Really Like Me!

I received a note from a Pumpkin today, dahrlings. And one a few months ago. It’s a veritable deluge of fan mail!

Truth be told, I also got a card about 10 years ago.

I feel so wanted. I do. Almost as much as a Bombardier aircraft. Always late, but never unloved. Although I’ve never been bailed out by the feds under the guise of an AC order. (Notice this is not the same as being under the guys. That was also about 10 years ago.)

I think I’m just feeling my age, dahrlings. I looked at all the 18 year olds on the red carpet and thought they forgot the rest of their dresses at home. What worried me even more is that they all said this was the most exciting, most important, thing on the planet. Well of course it is, dahrling. Don't worry your pretty little head about Rome burning all around you.

And speaking of hair and makeup, I'm just tickled to see the orange glow I perfected years ago on a man running for president, dahrlings. And the hair! The Trump look doesn't just happen, people. I should know. Americans are sucking it up like mother's milk. 

It's really no wonder I get fan mail.

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