I was never married before my current bride, but seeing the naggy, grating likes of such Democrat archetypes as Abigail Spanberger (D-Langley) and Mikie Sherrill (D-Wall Street), I think I understand why society loathes evil first wives. Moreover, these harridans make clear why these faux first wives are such an abomination when allowed to participate in our governance. They are VERY disappointed with us, and they won’t shut up about it. Sure, their partners in whine can – and will – call me “sexist,” but that complaint is going to get lost in the tsunami of gripes, complaints, and grumbles their kind endlessly generates. Why anyone would want anything to do with this brand of naggy scold is beyond me; I don’t get it, but I also don’t get why anyone would vote for Kamala Harris (not really a first wife; more like the cause of divorces by decent ones).
For whatever reason, Democrats eagerly promote other very irritating categories of stereotypical candidates. You’ve got your flat-out Marxists, often seasoned with a diversity imprimatur via a quasi-Aztec first name like Xochilitanicnl, a girl-penis, or maybe a hint of Muslim supremacy. You have the hirsute hicklib who talks like an amalgamation of Yellowstone’s Rip Wheeler and a pony-tailed TA in a Decolonialization of the Patriarchy seminar at the University of College. You have the female black radical who mimics every sassy best friend in every 2000s rom-com, including the ones who code-switch out of the fluent English they learned in private school to fluent ghetto they apparently learned watching rap videos. And then, you have the male-identifying black radical who channels Shaft if the detective were on the down-low – he’s the black private d**k that’s a sex machine, just not necessarily to all the chicks.
These archetypes are all terrible in their own way – DEI means that every kind of idiot can be uniquely ridiculous and add colors to the Democrat Party’s rich tapestry of stupidity. But the faux first wives are special, probably because we often encounter their real-life analogs as we go through our normal lives. They’re the annoying middle-aged women complaining at Whole Foods because there are no gluten-free bran crackers, and Kaden is gluten intolerant, and how will Kaden have bran crackers if there are no gluten-free bran crackers?
If they aren’t officially named Karen, they could have been. These are the women who demand to speak to America’s manager because those MAGA people seem to be having far too much fun, and that is triggering their transing “daughter” Ashleigh.
The faux first wives have several things in common, all awful, all tiresome. Let’s get superficial. They all look so worn out. Take Sen. Patty Murray of Washington. She looks like a shoe, and hectors like a shrew; every once in a while, I accidentally activate one of her countless X videos, and after three seconds, I’m giving up my name, rank, serial number, and the time and location of D-Day. They all dress in Very Serious clothes and have Very Serious hair, which I assume means they are listening to their straight male political consultants instead of finding a fabulous gay stylist like normal women. Sen. Elissa Slotkin looks like she’s on the way to take her place at a school board meeting where she ignores parents complaining that some sex offender pretending to be Carmen Miranda is waggling his banana and grapes in the local middle school girls’ locker room. Spanberger and Sherrill have both adopted a simulacrum of womanhood – “We are strong, powerful womyn, and we’ll show it by suppressing any trace of femininity.”
And they all look like that. Once you see it, you can’t unsee it. The face of one of the faux first wives pops up on TV or X, and you brace for her unloading a bunch of complaints about how hard conservatives are making it to kill the babies they will probably never have. In contrast, a conservative lady pops up; she may not be a traditional beauty, but she is attractive rather than off-putting because she’s happy.
It’s not purely physical because some of these faux first wives are structurally sound; rather, it’s a manifestation of the bitter hate inside them. That’s what drives them, their sense of resentment and anger that defies explanation or description. What are they so damn mad about? Is it residual rage over the fact that their daddy did not love them enough? That the guys in high school didn’t appreciate them? Some weird self-hatred for being part of the fairer sex? Is there some quasi-sexual thing going on? Yikes, let’s leave that Pandora’s box locked tight.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and they sure are demonstrating symptoms consistent with scorning. Beyond their obsession with promoting fetuscide, it was this genre of women who seemed most open to the idea that Charlie Kirk was asking for it; they definitely hated his lovely and accomplished wife. Spanberger standing there in that debate going full system-crash Stepford Wife when asked why she was sticking with her homicidal ticket mate Jay Jones – the guy who wants to murder Republicans, presumably after making them watch their kids die – was right in character. And so was Sherrill’s lashing out at those who revealed the Annapolis honor discipline she had so carefully hidden from the voters so as not to mar her image as the second coming of John Paul Jones, except in sensible shoes. These women are pressure cookers of hate, their unfocused fury building up and up and up inside them, just waiting to blow. If you don’t think they would cheer as you were hauled off to the gulag for felony wrongthink, you have not been paying attention.
And, of course, they are also insufferable strivers, the white-knuckle good girls who did student government and sweated for pats on the head from the teacher. When 2:59 p.m. on Friday rolled around and Miss Parsons had forgotten to assign homework for the weekend, it was their hands that shot up to remind her. These were the insufferable, asexual Tracey Flicks who built their resumes on yearbook and at the Model UN. Respect their achievements, damn it! Nothing makes CIA alums like Spanberger and Slotkin madder than when they announce they worked for the Agency, and we laugh and tell them we think it makes them suck more. The impertinence! They are like mama bears when it comes to protecting their precious CV entries. That’s why Sherrill was so outraged by Cheatgate being revealed – her whole thing is she went to Annapolis, and the truth tarnished her shiny little trophy.
And they are still striving, except in politics. They want to be governor or whatever, not to do things beyond seeking revenge on their enemies, like men and fetuses, but merely to be governor or whatever. They want the job; maybe a new accolade will fill that void inside them. Like evil first wives, they have no inner life. They exist only as what their title is – wife, senator, governor. Yet, these massive character flaws make them perfect Democrat candidates, until we voters finalize the divorce.
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