Michelle did her fucking job. She kicked all the chairs out from underneath you, you sleepy-eyed, coddled, shitgibbon enablers — and apparently you couldn’t tell ruthless political commentary from a fugly joke, if your journalistic integrity depended on it.

The simple fact is that if someone laughs, it’s funny. Like that nutty dress that some people saw as gold and some saw as blue, comedy is really in the eye of the beholder and, if you can’t take being made fun of, best to quietly hide from the rest of society, content to be left out of the discourse and live out your life pain-free.

The White House Correspondents’ Dinner is more pathetic a work event than any kind of team-building game night or scavenger hunt even the most creative HR Director can think of. If they don’t want the roast, they shouldn’t hire a comedian to headline. Hire Jared Kushner instead. He won’t say anything mean. He won’t say anything at all. Unless there are Russians in the room. But that won’t offend anyone.