Kelly Anne Conway burst into the collective consciousness in 2016 and like a herpes sore around a summer season hooker’s mouth she is showing every sign that she is here to stay.
After having previously characterized Donald Trump as something of an ‘unpresidential whiny liar,’ she managed to perform the kind of volte-face that figure skating duos lie awake at night dreaming off.
As a Trump victory in the primaries became increasingly likely she threw her lot in with the GOP’s great orange hope in much the same way bulimics throw themselves thin.
“Trump is far from the bloviating oaf you all think he is,” she demurred.
“On the contrary. He’s the fucking messiah.”
Nobody can deny that she hit the ground running; indeed, she took off as if somebody had unexpectedly nailed her labia to a passing freight train.
Far from content with being just another pundit, Conway climbed inside the inner sphincter of Trump’s most trusted advisers ingratiating herself via demonstration of a complete lack of integrity, self-respect, and/or grace. Like a Jackson Pollock painting constructed entirely of last night’s excreted burrito, she spattered herself over the canvas of American politics with little regard for those unfortunate enough to be caught in the splashback.
With no sense of shame or common decency holding her back, answers to questions could be deflected with consummate ease. A verbal regurgitation of whatever policy-turds Trump happened to lob her way became a potential media tactic; then a viable one and finally, an applauded one.
She gave it her all. Nobody can deny that.
Presidential lies became alternative facts. Schrodinger’s cat became simultaneously alive, dead, on vacation and at times ‘not so much a cat as any one of several possible mammalian quadrupeds.’
She claimed Mike Flynn had the full trust of the president mere hours before he was fired and reversed her position quicker than a coked up porn star playing blindfold twister on an El Niño-year yacht cruise.
And then there was this:
“What I can say is there are many ways to surveil each other. You can surveil someone through their phones, certainly through their television set—any number of ways.”
“Microwaves that turn into cameras,” she added.
“We know this is a fact of modern life.”
What? Holy shit! Why weren’t we told this earlier?
Still, thank god for Conway and her ‘this is going to hit you in the dick’ expose.
But are Microwaves all we have to fear? Might there be other seemingly innocent household appliances lying around our house crackling with nefarious intent?
Thankfully, Conway supplied us with a list.
Dust Bussed In
The Dustbuster. That once ubiquitous handheld couch-hoover has fallen from grace of late. Although the technology itself dates from 1979 it wasn’t until the 1990’s that what has been dubbed ‘The Golden Age of handheld vacuuming,’ truly began.
The avowed enemy of dust bunnies went on to sell more than 100 million units and thanks to Conway, we know that danger lurks within each and every one or them.
“The dust gathered is often collected by government agencies and stored in special containers. Each and every mote contains a wealth of DNA information and you know, it doesn’t take much to reconstruct DNA,” She told MLH:
“Just one stray pubic hair would be enough to create a thousand life-size copies or pretty much anyone,” she insisted.
“And that liberals are sending millions of these dust clones all around the country in order to illegally vote for Hillary Clinton is just a fact of modern life.”
I thought the whole microwaves spying on us was bunk till I caught my stove & microwave battling it out this morning… pic.twitter.com/NzzdsVBW3X
— The Anti-Trump (@IMPL0RABLE) March 13, 2017
Irony In The Fire
The humble clothes Iron has been with us since the first century BCE but the modern electrical appliance did not come onto the market until 1882. Early versions were made primarily of iron – hence the name – but the modern appliance is generally constructed from plastic and aluminum. It’s the latter part that is of great concern Conway as she explained.
“The surface is reflective and if you happen to look at it (which most of us do because who doesn’t spit on an iron to see if it’s hot?) then it can capture that image and transmit it back to Washington. The image can be projected back out of the iron at a flip of a switch and while you are in the bath, sleeping, out shopping or whatever, your holographic doppelganger could be rifling through your possessions. They could have access to documents, they could be listening in to conversations. That they might even go through your panty drawer and steal a pair or two is just a fact of modern life.”
According to the New Webster’s dictionary, a shoe is defined as an outer covering for the human foot typically having a thick or stiff sole with an attached heel and an upper part of lighter material.
According to Conway, they are so much more than that.
“It’s a fact of modern life that we all wear shoes when we go out but the real story behind them is what they are doing behind our backs. Whether you leave the shoes in the hallway or store them in a closet scent particles trapped within the weft of the materials they ae constructed from contains acids that can generate electrical currents when they come into contact with the floor.”
“The now ‘digital’ floor is able to relay information back to hackers situated all over the country. They can measure your weight, know where how many steps you have taken, estimate your daily wedgie readjustment rate and so on and so forth.”
The Light Fantastic
Kelly had more to tell us of course but as the sun began to go down, the switch to electric light unnerved her.
“You know that the bulbs can detect vibrations, right?” she asked us.
We confessed that we did not.
“Sure,” she offered, flicking her golden locks with well-manicured nails.
“They use them to detect our mood. The light goes back along the wire and into a special bulb that lights up different colors. Red for angry, blue for calm, magenta for discombobulated and mauve for horny.”
“What about for Bat-shit crazy?” we asked her.
“Oh, you know,” she answered as she packed up her possessions.
“Peroxide blonde, generally.”
Please note: For those who didn’t get the joke, this is pure satire.
Featured Image: Screenshot Via Twitter.