Opinion: This snake can’t shed his skin

  • Maureen Dowd
  • The New York Times
12:00 a.m. Tuesday, Feb. 27, 2018 Opinion

On her way to work one morning, down the path along the lake, a tenderhearted woman saw a rich, coldhearted, frozen snake.

His tangerine skin was all caked with makeup and his bald spot was frosted with the dew.

“Poor thing,” she cried, “I’ll take you in, and I’ll take care of you.”

“Take me in, oh tender woman. Take me in, for Heaven’s sake.” sighed the vicious snake.

She wrapped him up all cozy, tucking in his absurdly long tie of silk, and laid him by her fireside with two Big Macs, two Filet-O-Fish, and a chocolate shake of milk.

She hurried home that night from holding up a torch on Liberty Island, and soon as she arrived, she found that the freaky snake, transfixed by his own image on TV, had been revived.

“Take me in, oh tender woman. Take me in, for Heaven’s sake.” pleaded the cunning snake.

She clutched him to her bosom, which he really seemed to like. “You think you’re pretty,” she cried. “But if I hadn’t brought you in, by now surely you would have died.”

She stroked his puffy Velveeta scales again, and kissed and held him tight. But instead of saying thank you, that grabby snake wrapped around her you-know-what and gave her a vicious bite.

“Take me in, oh tender woman. Take me in for Heaven’s sake.” sighed the sneaky snake as he changed to “Fox & Friends” for news that was fake.

“I saved you,” cried the woman. “And you’ve bitten me. Heavens, why? You know your bite is poisonous, and now I’m going to die.”

“Oh, shut up, silly woman,” said the serpent with a grin. “You knew damn well I was a snake before you took me in.”

The woman was aghast. “You promised you could be classy enough in the Oval Office to impress socialites from Palm Beach. But instead, you are surrounded by porn stars and Playboy bunnies — just a tacky leech.”

As she felt his venom coursing through her body, she moaned in despair, “We kept praying there would be pivots, but instead there were only divots.”

He gave a snakey shrug and said: “I’ve had the greatest first year with the biggest crowds and the best people of any president. I’ve certainly put to shame that disastrous previous resident.”

“Shame?” she repeated with exasperation to the titular head of the nation. “You have none, and for that you have my sympathy. Even with a horrific mass shooting, you need Hope Hicks to script your empathy.

“You say you want to end the human sacrifices and protect our kids at school. But arming overworked and undersupplied teachers is the act of a fool. You simply refuse to recognize the problem is the guns. Is that because you’re afraid of the monstrous NRA and disarming your big game-hunting sons?”

With beady blue eyes, the snake watched his victim gasp for air. He ignored the note from Hope to “Pretend you care.”

“Oh, dying woman, you really don’t get it,” he said. “The NRA poured millions behind me early — earlier than any other candidate in history — and I never will forget it.”

Her muscles clenching, her organs failing, the woman found herself wailing. “It is just like when you promised a ‘bill of love’ to save the Dreamers. But you let that collapse in Congress because of Stephen Miller and the other alt-right schemers.”

The woman mocked the snake even as the toxins won, reminding him that his coldblooded dad would not tolerate a loser as a son. “The Mueller net is growing tight with more convictions within reach, and now it probably won’t be long until you hear the word ‘impeach.’

“Papadopoulos, Flynn and now Gates have all flipped. How long can Manafort keep his lips zipped?”

“Oh, daffy woman,” the snake hissed disdainfully. “You know that’s an illusion. As I like to say, THERE WAS NO COLLUSION.”

Even as she gasped her last, the woman gave him a triumphant blast. “You really are an asp. Oh, vain and ignorant snake, you may extinguish me. But never my torch. Oh, Liberty.”