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In a plot twist that could’ve been scripted by a particularly cynical Hollywood writer, a former Sports Illustrated swimsuit model has just peeled back the layers of the ’90s nostalgia to reveal a groping incident with none other than Donald Trump—a man recently described as a professional buffoon by those who know him intimately. Stacey Williams claims that during a fever dream of power, wealth, and questionable fashion choices, she found herself outside Trump’s office, caught between a meeting with the real estate mogul and an encounter that would’ve made even a soap opera writer blush.
Picture this: it’s 1993, and our heroine is on Fifth Avenue, arm-in-arm with Epstein, the man who would later turn out to be the gift that keeps on giving—for all the wrong reasons. They pop into Trump Tower, and suddenly it’s like being in a bizarre episode of “Pimp My Ride,” but instead of custom rims, it’s all about custom gropes. As Williams recounts, Trump approached her like a contestant on a game show—”Congratulations! You’ve won the unwanted hands-on experience!”
Back in the Tower, Williams found herself a motionless prop in a poorly written buddy comedy. She describes the scene as Trump fondly touching her person while he and Epstein chatted about… well, who cares? The real story was happening on the other side of her body! It seems this was Trump’s very own “hands-on” meeting, short of an official presentation, complete with “PowerPoint” slides of the 1990s ‘trophy life.’
Once removed from this theatrical travesty, Williams walked away to discover she had involuntarily been awarded a postcard from Trump that, quite hilariously, claimed “Your home away from home.” Because nothing says ‘I care’ like a postcard depicting a resort you didn’t ask to be groped in. Even the Trump campaign, engaged in verbal acrobatics that would make Olympic gymnasts jealous, spoke up to deny the claims. Of course, the denials were as convincing as a magician’s disappearing act.
But hold your applause folks, the plot thickens! Just as Williams bravely begins to recount this amusing tragedy of cringe-inducing proportions, the narrative takes a detour into the realm of political theater. While Williams shares her story in the context of a “Survivors for Kamala” event, her allegations are conveniently branded as a ploy to distract from allegations against the Second Gentleman, Doug Emhoff. Talk about deflecting like a seasoned politician! It’s like trying to escape a tragic comedy with a sharp-tongued review.
In the end, it’s another day in the circus we call politics. Williams, a Democratic supporter, is now catapulted into the public eye, dissecting not just a personal horror but the collective absurdity of political power plays where hand-shaking is the least of one’s concerns. As she reflects on the “monster” possibly returning to power, one can only hope she finds a way to laugh at the grotesque comedy that’s turned into a macabre political show. After all, what else can one do when the tent is set at the White House?
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