What is Kari Lake’s future?

What is Kari Lake’s future? If Trump doesn’t offer her a gig in D.C., oh, dear, oh, dear, what will she do? Anyone hiring a full-time experienced liar?

Temp Service: Have a seat, please. Name?

Lake: Governor Kari Lake.

Temp Service: Unusual first name.

Lake: That’s my title. “Governor”.

Temp Service: We don’t have any openings at this time for a “Governor”.

Lake: I’m also a “Senator”. At least I will be. Once the truth comes out.

Temp Service: Sorry, Mrs. Lake. We don’t have any openings at this time for a Senator. Arizona just hired one.

Lake: Excuse me, for just one moment, young man.

Lake picked up the wastebasket at her feet, lifted it up to her face and screamed foul epithets about Senator-elect Ruben Gallego into the wastebasket. And then set it down.

Temp Service: Are you okay?

Lake: I’m fine. What are you looking at? I’m fine!

Temp Service: You have some—

The interviewer pointed to his own lower lip suggesting she had spittle on her lip, which she brushed away.

Temp Service: May we continue with your interview?

Lake: The people of Arizona know bullshit when they see it.

Temp Service: Thank you for sharing that pearl of wisdom, Mrs. Lake. Now tell me. What is your work experience?

Lake: I was a Fox News anchor in Phoenix for about twenty-years. After that I became a full-time candidate for office. Offices that I won. If you flooded the news, you’d know I was cheated. I was robbed! This world is run by liars. I sued. And I sued. And I sued.

Lake picked up the wastebasket again, held it up to her face and screamed “Liars! Liars! Liars!” into the wastebasket. She held it over her face until she regained her composure. And then she set it down, fussed with her skirt and tossed her head back.

Temp Service: My clients are not enthusiastic about hiring employees known for filing frivolous lawsuits. Or insanity.

Lake: Frivolous? Who says I’m frivolous? What if invisible deep state forces are conspiring to steal your destiny from you?

Temp Service: Talk to your employer’s Human Resources department. They may offer mental health care with their health coverage. Mrs. Lake, what are your skills?

Lake: Listen I’ll take anything you got. I’m running out of cash. Does anyone need a Vice-President? How about Fox. They have to want me!

Temp Service: Mrs. Lake, please, stay focused. What are your skills?

Lake: Reporting on car crashes…reading news crawls on teleprompters…and working up crowds in arenas. I’m really good at that! Listen, I’ve had a hard time finding work. Think tanks don’t want me. MAGA doesn’t want me. Fox News has younger and slimmer and prettier—

Lake began sobbing. She picked up the wastebasket and held it up to her face and screamed “%@#! young Slut Whore %@#! Fox News Bitches” into the wastebasket and then set it down, cleared her throat, opened her compact, checked her makeup and slammed her compact shut with a dramatic click. Mrs. Lake sat up straight, brushed some lint from her shoulders, folded her neatly manicured hands across her primly crossed legs and smiled at her interviewer.

Temp Service: Feel better? Mrs. Lake, you mentioned you’re good at working with crowds in arenas. Arenas, huh? Have you considered temp work as a rodeo clown?

Lake: What?

Temp Service: Plenty of openings. Rodeo clowns are always getting sidelined by injuries. I can see you’re a wiz at makeup. And during your campaign you proved you’re fast on your feet. You’re excellent at backpedaling. Done any unicycle work? We watched you juggle for years. Have you ever worked with steers?

Lake: Listen you pipsqueak, you nobody, you—Argh! I’m the Governor—and most probably Senator—of Arizona. I am Kari Lake. The Kari Lake. And I know Donald Trump. Personally. You may have heard of him. He’s going to be the President!

Temp Service: We saw that reference to Mr. Trump on your application, and we can’t verify the glowing endorsement you quoted. No one is answering at that number.

Lake picked up the wastebasket at her feet, held it up to her face and vomited into the wastebasket. And then she sat it down, cleared her throat, and kicked it across the room.

Lake: My foot slipped. How unfortunate. Shall we try again? Call the goddam number I gave you. NOW!

Temp Service: Nah. We tried. Number has been disconnected.

Lake: So, you have nothing for—

Temp Service: The world needs rodeo clowns today and you have what they need.

You’ll get to wave flags.

You’ll get to dance and spin and do flips and “work the crowd”. 

You have an interview tomorrow at 8AM. Westwood Fairgrounds. Says here, “Bring your own makeup.” Anything else comes up, we’ll call.

Morty, send in our next temp applicant. And replace the waste basket.