Donald Trump And His Wife Are Awful And Their Son Tastes Like Caviar


It's imported from France

DISCLAIMER: This is not a joke. This is a real actual thing. It seems like a joke because it is RIDIC, but just remember that this is a real actual thing:

Melania Trump, model, businesswoman and wife of Donald Trump, doesn't cut corners when it comes to raising her son, Barron. When it comes to clothes, he dresses in suits like his dad. When it comes to skincare, he uses mom's caviar-enhanced skincare line.

You read that correctly. The 7-year-old Barron uses Melania's Caviar Complex C6 moisturizer every night after his bath.

"It smells very, very fresh," Melania, who launched the skincare line exclusively in Lord & Taylor this week, told ABC News. "I put it on him from head to toe. He likes it!"

Do you need a moment to pick your jaw up off the floor, because we certainly do. [Picks jaw up off floor.] Okay, moment's over. Let the kvetching commence.

First of all, Barron? Barron? Was Spawn of Rich Assholes too nuanced or something? Second, a seven-year-old needs "skincare"? Isn't that what normal kids just called "bath time"? Third, CAVIAR MOISTURIZER?!?! Are you fucking kidding us?

Sadly, no. No, you are not fucking kidding us even though we wish you were because Jesus leg-humping Christ, CAVIAR MOISTURIZER?

It is a key active ingredient in her entire beauty line, the products of which run from $50 to $150. She imports the caviar from a cultured sturgeon farm in the South of France, where it is harvested at optimal ripeness to maintain the nutrients, according to a press release.

So basically, little Barron's "skincare" routine could feed an entire African village for five years, but hey, he likes it. We think we would like it too, because getting rubbed down with caviar sounds awful nice. We also think having Mrs. Trump send us large piles of cash would be nice too. For our complexion.

But maybe we should not judge, because Mrs. Trump is just a regular ol' mom like any other regular ol' mom who says that being a mom is "the most important job ever." She takes mom-being very seriously and does regular mom things with little Barron:

"I cook him breakfast. Bring him to school. Pick him up. Prepare his lunch. I spend the afternoon with him."

And then she rubs him with caviar because he likes it!

Great American hero F. Scott Fitzgerald was right: The rich are different from you and me, because we buy our moisturizer at Target (even though sometimes, we pretend the second "t" is silent to make ourselves feel all fancy) and our moisturizer is not made from little imported eggs and does not cost $150.

And that is why we should eat the rich. Not just because they are awful people who name their children Barron and rub them with $150 moisturizer made from French fish fetuses -- even though they are and that's a damn fine enough reason -- but also because apparently, they will taste delicious.


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Guys, it's been one more shit day in a shit week in the fifth shit month of another shit Trump year. Which is why I need to remind you that it's not ALL shit out there! Oh, sure, it's MOSTLY shit, but you know what isn't shit? YR WONKETTE, and the strange community of strange internet people who have made getting through all this shit a bit more tolerable, that's who and what. Which is why you should give us money, so we can keep whanging away at the walls of shit with our shovels and laughing at the shit getting all over, because one of these days we will get it all cleaned up or at least not be up to our waists in shit, and we can all laugh about what a crazy fight it was, as St. Molly Ivins always kept reminding us.

In case you're new here, let me just remind you that Wonkette literally got me, Yr Dok Zoom, out of what wasn't quite poverty, but was pretty much paycheck-to-paycheck desperation. I started reading the site shortly before Barack Obama was elected, began commenting sometime in his first term, and submitted a story tip to Rebecca a few months after she bought the site for 47 dollars and a sandwich (I now understand it was a bit more than that). It was Memorial Day 2012, and she wrote back she was busy with some "stupid thing I have to do for some muneez," but would I like to try writing a blog post myself? "I understand if you say FUCK NO. But maybe you are thinking FUCK YES?" And then she warned me she paid only in Ameros. I did, the post was forgettable but OK, and then I wrote a thing (borrowed from now long-lost comments) that went semi-viral, and suddenly I was that hottest thing in publishing, a freelancer!

In less than a year, Rebecca asked you all to buy me to be your very own pet blogger, and my life suddenly became incredibly good, like as good as an Abba song. It's as good as "Dancing Queen." Thanks to the timing of the whole thing (and to Barry Obama and Nancy Pelosi), I actually had health insurance for the first time in years, a not inconsiderable thing. And you had an Editrix who was not working 12 hour days six and a half days a week and drinking too much from stress. Your continued donations helped hire Evan full time and Robyn and Bianca part time and a whole raft of freelancers, and now Rebecca is down to eight-hour days, five and a half days a week, and drinking because there's a madman in the White House and everything's terrible.

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There is a very normal article circulating on the internet right now by a fella named Don Boys (that's not the joke, the jokes are coming), who is both an insane batshit preacher, and also an insane batshit former member of the Indiana House of Representatives. (Also sometimes he blogs at the Daily Caller about how Mike Pence really went balls deep into the gay agenda when he swore in that insane batshit gay guy Rick Grenell as America's ambassador to Germany.)

This article, of course, is about Pete Buttigieg, because what are anti-gay buffoons obsessed with right now? Pete Buttigieg. Boys (still his name) is primarily concerned not with the simple fact that Buttigieg is gay, but with how gay Buttigieg really is. IN THE SEX WAY!

Well, Don, since you asked!

Shall we dive into this thing without the proper prophylactics? We shall.

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