More than three years ago, Sen. Elizabeth Warren told the Internal Revenue Service that he had donated $50,000 in used clothing and “household items” to local thrift stores in 2014.
Fifty grand worth of clothes! Donated! In one year.
That was the fake Indian’s story and she was sticking to it – until late yesterday afternoon, after we inquired about her rather, uh, profligate spending habits.
Suddenly, the fake Indian’s story changed.
The totals, her flack said, were “entry errors.”
Hey, Senator, glad I could be of service, in helping you correct your false filing. (And I assume the returns, signed under pains and penalties of perjury, will now be corrected.)
Entry errors – I must remember that the next time I get busted lying on my taxes. If only President Trump had thought to claim “entry errors” when the New York Times came to him for their magnum opus on his taxes in this morning’s editions.
How far do you think Judge Kavanaugh would get with the old “entry errors” alibi? Or Warren’s GOP opponent, Rep. Geoff Diehl?
The fake Indian’s flack said her entry errors “did not affect the ultimate amount that she owed to the IRS because the deductions taken (column h) were correct.
She continued, “The accurate original value was closer to the original value of similar clothing and household items in Senator Warren’s 2012
taxes (around $8000).”
Actually, $9,376. I might say something about a forked tongue, but perhaps the better phrase would be “entry errors.” Whatever, it’s almost as difficult to pin her down on how much she’s spending on clothes as it is to get her to admit exactly how high she wants to raise your taxes.
But the other question is this: How much do you spend on clothes?
I’m guessing it’s less – a lot less – than the fake Indian.
Even it’s only 10 grand that she spends on clothes every year, that seems like an awful lot for someone who grew up on the jagged or ragged edge of the middle class (it all depends on what day you ask her).
Are you telling me she spent that kind of dough on clothes while she was a teacher at Harvard Law School?
As someone who went to Harvard Law – to drop off and pick up my kids at the day care center there – I can tell you that you could clothe most of the faculty there for… closer to $35 than $35,000. Total.
According to her bogus 2014 returns, the $50,000 also included certain “household items.”
It would be interesting to know exactly what the latter is. Back in the first presidential campaign in 1992, the Clintons reported “donating” used underwear and mildewed shower curtains for $3 per item.
I have a theory that the fake Indian’s breathtaking expenditures on clothes are related to her abrupt announcement last weekend in Holyoke that she’s taking a “hard look” at running for president.
She spent all that money on pants suits, matching outfits, shoes cashmere sweaters and the like, and there she was last week, all dressed up and nowhere to go, for one simple reason.
She’s not on the Senate Judiciary Committee.
Imagine how it felt to be watching her fellow legends in their own minds grabbing record numbers of eyeballs on television as they sanctimoniously asked Judge Kavanaugh about high-school flatulence jokes.
The fake Indian must have been channeling Leslie Gore – it’s her party and she’ll cry if she wants to.
“I watched,” she pontificated on what she’s called the west coast of Massachusetts, “as Brett Kavanaugh acted like he was entitled to that position –“
When we all know is that the only person she truly believes is really entitled to anything is… herself.
But all the facetime went to Da Nang Dick Blumenthal, and T-Bone’s friend, Cory Booker, the groping Spartacus from New Jersey. Not to mention Kamala Harris, Willie Brown’s ex-girlfriend.
It’s not fair that she didn’t get to harangue Kavanaugh like the Democrats on the committee did.
All that money spent on clothes, and she still has to compete against not only the solons on Judiciary, but all the other Democrat statesmen who dream of running for president.
Hacks like, say, Joe “Hands” Biden, a plagiarist. And Bernie Sanders, he of the 1972 piece in the hippie weekly in Vermont about how women “fantasize about being raped by three men simultaneously.”
Suck it up, fake Indian. I have just the cure for your sadness about being relegated to a town hall meeting in Holyoke when everyone else was raising the big bucks on their Instagram hits.
Shop ‘til you drop.
