We already know what happened between porn star Stormy Daniels and Donald Trump. We know how the two met. We know that Daniels and Trump started fucking shortly after Baron was born in 2006. We know that Trump likes to be spanked with a rolled-up Forbes magazine. We know all we need to know, and unless Trump told Daniels that he plans to give reparations to black people and allow Latinos to live peacefully, then those who voted for Trump don’t care. They aren’t going to condemn this man or find him morally reprehensible.
We know all of this because Daniels, born Stephanie Clifford, couldn’t stop telling her story back in 2011. So, Stormy Daniels, we don’t care. We don’t care that now you can freely tell your story because the president’s lawyer seems to have broken the nondisclosure agreement that you signed right around Election Day last year.
On Tuesday, Trump’s personal lawyer Michael Cohen claimed that he paid Daniels $130,000 out of his own pocket. And now Gina Rodriguez, a manager for Daniels—why she has a manager I will never know—is informing the press that Daniels is ready to talk.
“Everything is off now, and Stormy is going to tell her story,” Rodriguez told the New York Daily News.
Daniels has juiced the pulp out of this affair with the president, and while I don’t blame her for getting her coins, I’m growing tired of her story. We—those of us who didn’t vote for Trump—know that Daniels’ story is true. We know that the president of Loaf-n-Jug, Tenn., ain’t shit. We knew it before he ran for office. So hearing that he chased Daniels around the room in his “tighty whities” before they had generic, geriatric sex isn’t shocking; it’s vomit-inducing.
Maybe Daniels should just stick to her “Make America Horny Again” tour and starring in films like Good Will Humping because unless she’s going to tell America that the president is secretly a black woman who wears a satin cap before bed, his base isn’t going to move, and therefore, Daniels’ time in the spotlight is coming to an end.