"Sir, does the president still accept the authenticity of the Access Hollywood tape?"
We didn't get much of an answer. Nobody expected one. The real question is why anyone's asking when we know what kind of answer we'll get.
Would I rather have Francis Underwood as President? Don't we already? Frank's charm is, perhaps, more dangerous than Donald's "Yeah, I said I apologized, but actually, that doesn't work with the conversation now, so I didn't do it." If Chuck Schumer mysteriously drops dead tomorrow, I'll know who's behind his sudden demise. That scene in House of Cards in which Spacey whips out a blade, terrorizes his tough, Hillary Clintonish secretary of state, who's just snapped, "I'm not afraid of you!" must be all too real.
The kicker would be Melania turning out to be Claire Underwood, that steel magnolia Lady Macbeth. Melania's style might be more that of Livia, the wife of Augustus Caesar, who allegedly sweetly poisoned him. If I were Melania I'd want to poison my husband. But I suppose I wouldn't actually do that, because I'd want some real revenge. I'd think of something much more embarrassing. You wouldn't want to make him a martyr, done in by the young wife he trusted so much, would you? But you'd find a way to get those taxes out there. You'd find a way to remove him to the very same facility as Harvey Weinstein. You'd get him on his knees, wouldn't you?
You go, girl.
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