Ruh Roh! The First Dog seems to have slipped her Presidential leash

I'm not ugly. It's your imagination.

I'm not ugly. It's your imagination.

Fat, ugly and stupid is no way to go through life Helen Thomas!  But hey, better late than never you stupid old bitch.

Nixon didn’t try to do that,” Thomas said. “They couldn’t control (the media). They didn’t try.”

“What the hell do they think we are, puppets?” Thomas said. “They’re supposed to stay out of our business. They are our public servants. We pay them.”

“When you call the reporter the night before you know damn well what they are going to ask to control you,” Thomas said.

“I’m not saying there has never been managed news before, but this is carried to fare-thee-well–for the town halls, for the press conferences,” she said. “It’s blatant. They don’t give a damn if you know it or not. They ought to be hanging their heads in shame.”

But be prepared, you stupid dingbat. In the future: No cookies for you! You will be shunned. You will never get another question. You. Don’t. Fuck. With. The One.

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