“Don’t wait for karma,” I tell people on this blog all the time. Get on with your life! Go be awesome! Embrace meh!
Assuming you even believe in cosmic comeuppances, you shouldn’t wait for them. Who knows the ways of the karmic scheduler? (I suspect he’s often asleep at the wheel.) But sometimes… just sometimes… Justice throws a lightening bolt of pure Schadenfreude so magnificent we must take notice.
I know what you’re thinking. And it’s not “How can I get in on this sexy wet-wipe action?” It’s, Rielle, is this what it’s come to? Cleaning countertops? A decade ago, weren’t you defiling stuffed animals in a GQ spread? Top of your kibblewhore game?
(You might also be wondering who Rielle Hunter is. She was mistress to presidential candidate John Edwards, as his wife Elizabeth Edwards was dying of breast cancer.)
Imagine the psychic pain of Rielle The Influencer. Will no one watch her menopausal-sex-moppet shimmy? Or trademark her indecipherable war-whoop “Azamaka-KAH-ya!” Or comb her hair?
Rielle says she’s here to bring “joy and laughter into the world.” And I think she’s succeeded. But perhaps not as she intended.
Your Fun Friday Challenge is to tell CN, Where They Are Now. Have the batshit fallen after flapping too close to the sun?