Mitch McConnell’s Face Found Between Two Women’s Breasts at Motif Music Awards
Senator Mitch McConnell from Kentucky, on his 83rd birthday this February, announced that he will not be running for re-election next year. He decided to celebrate his freedom from the GOP by attending the Motif Music Awards in PVD. Event planner, Tess Lyons, is quoted as saying, “I only found out Mitch was attending because his PR was requesting bottle service. I told them, ‘Hey man, we’re a free paper, you think we can afford bottle service?’ And then Mitch grabbed the phone and started muttering something about 2016 and ‘filling the seat’ with someone who can get him champagne.” We didn’t think he was going to make it after that strange encounter, but turns out he’s pretty good at playing sides! After numerous drinks, we found McConnell during intermission, in the corner bar, with his face between the breasts of two unidentified women. After a talk with one of the women, she told our sources, “What? He’s one of the only Republicans openly voting against Trump!” Get it, girl. In a brief statement from McConnell as he came up for air, we captured a sweet, but breathless, “YOLO!” •
Behind the barricade: Brown Medical School shores up support for MDs
The national administration has decided to help Rhode Island with its painful shortage of physicians, by … deporting some. In a not-so-astounding case of meanness over mindfulness, Dr. Rasha Alawieh, a kidney transplant specialist at Brown Health, was refused entry to the US and, as of this writing, was on a plane back to Lebanon. We would be pissed, but we’re afraid to damage our kidneys with fewer specialists to take care of them now. Inside sources say cardiac specialists will likely be next, as “This administration has no heart anyway.” In an attempt to protect those who specialize in saving lives, Brown Medical School has reactivated Brown’s long-standing network of sub-campus tunnels to smuggle physicians away from eager deporters. “What’s the big deal about medicine? If something hurts, a little ICE will always cure it,” said one government official in response. In related news, astronauts Butch and Suni, who were trapped on the International Space Station for nine months, have made it back to Earth. Returning to an America very different from the one they left, they first reenacted the final scene from Planet of the Apes (“You maniacs! You blew it all up!”) People Motif was going to spend a day with them to discuss gravity and their favorite snacks. Unfortunately, it was pointed out that they did not have visas in their space suits, and they are currently being deported back to space. •
Lauren Boebert Seen Sniffing Lady Gaga’s Iconic 2010 Meat Dress at RISD Museum
Rhode Island School of Design just scored a big one: Lady Gaga’s 2010 Meat Dress. The dress has since “Jerkified,” according to designer Franc Fernandez, and was recently bought by anonymous RISD donors. Boebert, the unseen hero of all-things-meat, couldn’t resist making a trip to see the infamous dress. As she rode in the passenger side of a tractor-trailer, barreling through the Midwest, our sources followed her to a rest stop, “I hitchhike so I can get a better sense of the people and the land. That’s the only way to see our beautiful country, Goddamnit!” For emphasis, she pulled a Glock out of her holster and began shooting blanks into the sky. We had to reassure her that she wasn’t in Washington DC before she settled down and put the gun away. Needless to say, she had to hitch another ride. Boebert finally arrived in RI in the back of a scarcely packed egg truck. Boerbert tells us, sandwiched between cartons, “In order to truly understand what Bidenonomics has done to eggs, I wanted to follow the journey of the egg, from chicken to store. I want people to think about the sacrifices I’ve made, and remember: ‘Lauren Boebert was in The Egg for three days.’” When we reminded her that Gaga, too, spent time in The Egg, she started waving her gun around and shouting, “I am nothing, nothing like Gaga!” Once inside, a teary-eyed Boebert leans past the sign that clearly says “Do Not Sniff,” and sniffs the hanging meat dress. It was an emotional moment for all, to which she says, “It smells like freedom. It smells like Gaga.” Motif was later informed that Beobert was inspired by this trip and plans to re-open her shuttered restaurant “Shooters Grill” in PVD, where Dusk used to be. •
Moms of Liberty, Washington County: Where Are They Now? A Terrifying Encounter.
Now that Trump has won, we here at Motif were curious to see what sort of trouble the Moms of Liberty could still be stirring up in lil’ Rhody. We sent our most valuable staff writer to a Moms of Liberty meet-up at a local dive bar. Our writer recounts the harrowing incident: “I thought it would be pretty easy to slip in, have a few beers, munch a few fries, and eavesdrop on their conversation. How hard could it be? Moms love happy hour. That was my first mistake. I arrived on the scene, 4pm on the dot, as any well-to-do reporter from any reputable magazine would. A group of white, WASPY, blonde and brunette women were mulling around the parking lot, looking suspicious. I slouched low in my car, put on my disguise with apt precision, and watched as they quickly loaded into a large Honda Odyssey. Nice ride, I thought, before I thought again… Wait! They are supposed to be going in for greasy sustenance, not leaving! As the Odyssey peeled out of the parking lot, I had no choice but to follow them. Good thing I brought snacks, because I was very hungry and looking forward to some good bites. Alas, duty called, and I am nothing if not a professional. I followed them through the twisting roads all the way to Charlestown Beach. I thought, what the hell are they doing here? My curiosity was insatiable. I shoved the wrapper of my last candy bar in between my seats and followed them across the sands.
They were doing something weird, kind of like birds, walking in a straight line and not speaking. I suddenly became very aware that they would notice me, as I was trailing behind a considerable distance. I had two options: Abandon the mission, or infiltrate. Infiltrate it was. I drew in my biggest breath, and yelled out a high-pitched, ‘Heyyyy ladies! Yooohoo!’ They turned around simultaneously, their faces seeming to have transformed into large moons with yellow eyes. I was terrified. Yet I had to commit…”
Our reporter pales at this final memory.
“I… I don’t remember much after this. I’m in a cave, I hear the waves of the ocean beating against its walls. There are small candles all around us… we’re sitting in a circle and we’re chanting. I’m covered in essential oils… I’m naked. I’m naked and covered in essential oils. What are we chanting? ‘Liberty, once lost, is lost forever.’ Over and over. Over and over. My body is covered in red. Essential oils? No, blood. I’m covered in blood. All the moms are chanting, and smiling, smiling. There is a pile of books in the middle of us. A mom picks one up and passes it to me, her wet ’n’ wild fingernail polish glitters in the candlelight. She whispers in my ear, her tongue almost on my lobe, Burn… Burn. I look down at the cover, Rupi Kupir’s Milk and Honey? I didn’t hesitate; I brought it to the flames and watched it crumble. I can still hear their cheering, their exultations. I’ve never felt so good. I was never one for Instagram poetry anyway… Oh no, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” At this, our reporter bursts into tears. •