It didn’t help when he referred to the concentration camps as “Holocaust Centers,” which put these arenas of murder in the same category as centers of outlet, Lawn and Garden, and Rockefeller.
His argument that diffusing poison gas from the skies was fundamentally different from telling your victims they were going to have a shower and then suffocating them with hydrogen cyanide did not prove convincing. It only shows Teutonic efficiency. Death camps don’t waste gas like sarin bombs do, by poisoning the landscape at large, possibly killing rats, goats, camels or the rare Syrian Desert Beaver* as well as their targets. Death camps just kill your own people.
The Spiceman made the further faux pas of advancing his theory on Passover, the most importantly religious holiday of the year for Jews, who comprised the majority of Hitler’s victims.
All of this was completely unnecessary, because there’s nothing in international law that says you have to be worse than Hitler before you deserve a nice trial for your war crimes.
So, the rumor is, that in the bitter breakfast served at the White House every morning, Spicer will soon be the toast. This is so unfair to him, because his only disqualification for the job is that he can’t lie smoothly enough on his feet. You watch the man lying. His eyes bulge and he lashes out like a drunk uncle at the assembled media. His brain cramps up under the pressure of prevarication, and then he blurts out something about Hitler.
There are many of us, the majority perhaps, that can’t lie any better than the Press Secretary. But his lack of natural mendaciousness make the Spicinator a bad mouthpiece for a President like Trump, who can’t stop lying unless he’s sleeping or chatting about vagina.
But a President can’t not have a Press Secretary, and when Spicey is demoted to making midnight corn liquor runs for Steve Bannon, someone will have to step forward, and the money here is on Kellyanne Conway, spin-mistress extraordinaire.
Sure, the K-girl has been quiet lately, nearly as quiet as all of the victims of the Bowling Green massacre. But I, for one, have never lost faith in her. The glistening fake smile, the perky nose, the lips that can let preposterous nonsense slip through them as easily as if it was coated with grape jelly, and the freezing stare that makes me think that the two last things I’d like to be on Earth is eaten by a wild animal or her husband. There’s a real liar. And that’s no alternative fact.
The only thing that might stop her ascension to Head Mouthpiece is Trump’s reputed distaste for anybody he thinks might be better than him at anything, and Kellyanne is certainly the superior liar to Trump, who is constantly under suspicion that what he says and Tweets are not lies to him at all, just brain flatus caused by excess consumption of Fox TV, a condition he has in common with many of his supporters.
But not Kellyanne. The divine power of deception radiates from every pore of her being, all the more so because it is dead certain that she knows that every time she opens her mouth, she is lying her Spanx off.
So give her the job. Spicer will be able to find other work. And so will Melissa McCarthy.
*Doesn’t actually exist. Would make a great screen name, though.