2016’s presidential election has devolved into a nationwide Maury Povich brawl, and my response is “Good.” The latest mudslinging match between last, best hope Donald Trump and GOP establishment last man standing Ted Cruz has revolved around their wives and sex lives. A few days ago, the National Enquirer dropped their own H-bomb, publishing an expose claiming that Cruz – squeaky clean, principled Christian conservative Ted Cruz – has cheated on his wife with five other women, three of whom have already been identified.
While the story has sent the GOP cucksultant class into meltdown mode, Cruz himself isn’t actually denying the allegations, instead calling them “garbage.” Even his most fervent fans aren’t defending him on the basis that he’s too honest to break his marriage vows; they’re claiming he’s too much of a dweeb to get laid. And with Trump holding a wide delegate lead and the upcoming contests unfavorable to Lyin’ Ted, the presidential race has become like sex after the money shot: bask in the afterglow and mop up the fluids.
Ted Cruz is so phony and insincere he comes off like a replicant grown in a vat off the Tannhauser Gate. When he’s not lying with women other than his wife, he’s lying about his competitors dropping out so he can steal their votes, lying about his connections to the GOP establishment, and lying about his favorite characters in children’s cartoons. Even when he’s defending his wife from one of Trump’s broadsides, Cruz is so devoid of humanity that he lifts lines from a movie. He might as well tout himself as America’s first autistic president.
What kind of woman would willingly sleep with this man? And I’m not just talking about his paramours, though it’s not inconceivable that the aura of power could make even the great, soft jelly thing that is Ted Cruz seem sexually palatable. Who is Heidi Cruz, and why should you be concerned about her?
Make no mistake: Mrs. Cruz is as inseparable from her husband’s career as a remora is from a shark. She’s a political animal who met Ted when they were working on George W. Bush’s first presidential campaign and has been intimately involved with his campaigns, and she’s a former member of the globalist Council on Foreign Relations. When Heidi isn’t leading Ted around like a North Korean detainee, she’s breaking out her kneepads for vampire squid Goldman Sachs, helping it jam its proboscis into every orifice of American society.
I have the unfortunate distinction of having seen Heidi Cruz in person – when she was stumping for Ted in suburban Chicago earlier this month – and the experience was nearly as unpleasant as seeing the man himself. The Bill and Hillary Show should have convinced Americans to run screaming from political power couples, and hopefully the Ted and Heidi Show will drive the point home. Heidi Cruz is as every bit as Machiavellian and insincere as the man she’s unhappily married to.
My Heidi Cruz misadventure began when I boarded the wrong Metra train. She was holding her meet and greet at a cheesy diner in Park Ridge, but I mistakenly set foot on an express train to Arlington Heights, which was a half-hour northwest of where I needed to go. I hopped on an Uber as soon as I could get off the train, but by the time I got to Park Ridge, Cruz was done talking:
Much like Ted Cruz’s own appearances, Heidi’s audience stank of cholesterol and artificial pacemakers. The lady herself comes off like a heterosexual Hillary Clinton: snide, fake, and nauseated by the seal-clapping proles she has to pander to. Unlike Hilldog, Heidi Cruz at least tries to look like a woman, offsetting her studly jawline with a feminine haircut and bimbo blonde hair dye. I have difficulty believing she’s even slept in the same bed as Ted; she probably had him consummate the marriage by humping a pillow.
After she was done speaking, Heidi stuck around to chat and take pictures with her stent-sporting fanboys. I contemplated mugging for a selfie with her, maybe post it on Twitter with a snarky caption – “She was begging to sit on my caucus!” – but the crowd was too thick and I didn’t care enough to stick around. Hilariously, Cruz kept getting trolled by a troupe of protesters outside on the sidewalk:
The pranksters were on Heidi like hair on an Indian girl’s nipples. Every time she tried to pose for a picture with one of the elderly attendees, the protesters would roll up behind her flashing their signs. Whenever she moved to dodge them, they followed right behind. When I asked them who they were supporting, they replied, “We’re voting for whatever candidate respects civil liberties.”
Ultimately, Heidi Cruz’s attempt to make her husband seem human were all for naught: Trump won a decisive victory in Illinois, sweeping Chicago and its suburbs, thanks to Bernie Sanders’ drones instigating an anti-Trump riot in the Windy City. Ted Cruz’s only triumph since then has been in Utah, aided by potential George Soros-funded voter fraud and the anti-American attitude of its Mormon population.
Unfortunately, Cruz’s wandering pene may spell the end of his campaign. He’s been able to keep pace with Trump due to his ability to marshal the GOP’s Christian voters: the gin-blossomed evangelicals preparing for Magog’s invasion of Israel and offended by the fact that Trump gets laid. Without that patina of moral superiority, Cruz is just a permavirgin with a Super PAC.
Much in the same way that Bill Clinton’s affairs were the product of his nerdy, sexless adolescence, Ted Cruz’s infidelity stems from his hyper-religious, sperglord youth. And like Clinton, Cruz is in thrall to a domineering wife who controls him just as thoroughly as Theodora controlled Justinian. It’s time to send these scheming power couples packing.