Here’s yet another reason to love our women’s soccer team.
When asked if she was excited about visiting the White House should the U.S. win the World Cup, team co-captain Megan Rapinoe didn’t mince words:
RAPINOE: Pfft. I’m not going to the fucking White House. No, I’m not going to the White House. We’re not going to be invited.
INTERVIEWER: You’re not going to be invited?
RAPINOE: I doubt it.
Rapinoe has also caught onto Trump’s petty “you’re invited — no you’re not!” game, as was noted in the online version of Eight by Eight magazine:
“[Trump] tries to avoid inviting a team that might decline. Or, like he did when the Warriors turned him down, he’ll claim they hadn’t been invited in the first place.”
Is the co-captain speaking for the whole team here? Rapinoe pauses, long enough for her mouth to curl into an impish grin. “I don’t know everyone’s voting patterns on our team,” she says, chortling, “but I would hope no one voted for him.”
Yeah, I would hope that, too. In fact, that’s one of my greatest hopes.
Honestly, I don’t know why anyone would want to visit the White House these days. In fact, I’m pretty sure I won’t ever want to visit again. I mean, the place is liable to smell of Chicken McNuggets, Hai Karate, xenophobia, and molted Trump rind longer than Chernobyl stays radioactive.
But thank God we can feel proud of our soccer team as July 4 approaches. That’s something, right?
Is Trump still singeing your sphincter? Dear F*cking Lunatic: 101 Obscenely Rude Letters to Donald Trump and its breathlessly awaited sequel Dear F*cking Moron: 101 More Letters to Donald Trump by Aldous J. Pennyfarthing are the salve you need! Reviewers have called these books “hysterically funny,” “cathartic,” and “laugh-out-loud” comic relief. And you can get them for less than the price of a cup of coffee … or a black-market Xanax … or five minutes of therapy. It’s time to heal, my friends. Buy now!