The fake Indian is officially announcing her presidential candidacy Saturday in Lawrence, the fentanyl capital of New England, and I have what should be the doomed campaign’s official theme song.
“Don’t Tell Me You’re Sorry (‘Cause I Know How Sorry You Are),” by Loretta Lynn and Conway Twitty.
In case you haven’t heard, the fake Indian is sorry, very very sorry, now that she’s been busted for pretending to be a Native American. Nothing new here, of course, we’ve been reporting it here at the Herald for, what, seven years now. But finally even the alt-left “journalists” have decided to stop printing nonsense about the fake Indian’s, uh, family story.
Everybody except the Globe, of course. They still think she’s an Indian – I heard she showed some of the bow-tied bumkissers a feather to prove it, and she was passing out autographed tomahawks in the newsroom, I mean, the fake-news room.
But even the craven toadies of the mainstream media have now turned on the fake Indian, and the press gaggle Wednesday in Washington was unprecedented – a Democrat was actually being grilled, asked tough questions.
She was caught lying – red-handed, you might say. And she is very… red-faced.
It ran 4:37, and here are the greatest hits:
“I am also sorry… I have apologized to Chief Baker and I have made a very public apology… I have apologized both to Chief Baker, who was very gracious about it, and I have apologized… My apology is an apology for not having been more sensitive about tribal citizenship.”
When the fake Indian says “tribal citizenship,” she means “the truth.” She wasn’t sensitive about the truth. White eyes speak-um with forked tongue.
“It is about an apology,” she kept saying, “an apology about not being more sensitive to tribal citizenship….”
Hey, fake Indian, don’t tell us you’re sorry. We know how sorry you are.
If he were still around, Conway Twitty would be feeling her pain. See, in the old country song, Loretta catches him in a honky-tonk with a blonde waitress in his lap – “It ain’t what you’re thinkin’, so think before you slap.”
The problem for the fake Indian is, this goes back at least as far as 1984, and continued until approximately 2005, when she decided to become a white person again.
As the oppo research piles up, the fake Indian’s record of prevarications is beginning to resemble a career criminal’s rap sheet. What I mean is, perps tend to start small. First time out, they don’t usually rob, say, an armored car. Shoplifting is more like it.
As far as we know, the fake Indian’s first fakery was plagiarizing a French recipe for the cookbook, Pow Wow Chow, in 1984. No one noticed “Elizabeth Warren – Cherokee.”
So two years later, she upped the ante a bit, with that Texas bar application. Now she was “American Indian.” Again, no blowback. Her confidence began to grow – it was time to try for a big score.
It was 1987, and she put her name in the law school directory, as an aggrieved minority. And suddenly, she lands tenured jobs at not one, but two Ivy League law schools.
Of course, one false statement after another about her “race” had absolutely nothing to do with her meteoric, post box-checking rise in academia.
“That,” she assured the reporters, “is a claim that has been fully investigated.”
Of course it has, by The Boston Globe. Which couldn’t even do the math on her DNA test.
The problem, of course, is that she became a full-blown faker. As Sir Walter Scott wrote, “Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”
She doesn’t even know how many smoking guns are out. She was asked about it Wednesday – any more fraudulent documents out there.
She sighed: “This is what I grew up believing. This is our family history.”
Riiiiight. She was asked again, are there more documents involving your recidivist racial fraud.
“So,” she said, “all I know is during this time period….”
Something tells me there are some dodgy operatives who have turned up other… documents. And should the need arise, these people will put another rocket in the fake Indian’s pocket. If, that is, she does well in the campaign.
My guess is, that won’t be necessary. The fake Indian’s campaign is on the Trail of Tears, headed for the not-so-Happy Hunting Grounds