I am Matisse
I am Matisse, and this is a kid’s story, because I am a kid. I am nine years old and very responsible for my age. The other Matisse, at least the only other one I know, was a great painter, the father of abstraction. I have decided to be empress of the universe. I’m what adults call precocious.
My Grandma-ma always speaks to me as if I’m the smartest person she ever met. My mom still thinks of me as only nine and my dad, well he just smiles at me all the time. Actually he beams. He doesn’t say much of anything.
If the Royal Family has enough sense in their inbred brains to support the arrest and subsequent punishment of the Andrew Formerly Known as Prince, then American leaders ought to have equal sense to investigate and punish the other Epstein-related offenders. Or, at the very least, admit that American Power is too insulated for true justice to ever have a chance at prevailing and own up to being a criminal enterprise. Something far worse than being inbred. (Though, probably not as bad as being married to Meghan Markle.)