A Study in Secondhand Sorrow and Unsolicited Fluffing
One must, yet again, preface a report with a word of caution. The source for this particular dispatch—the linen-upholstered, sloped-arm couch in Vice President J.D. Vance’s congressional office—is in a state of profound emotional and structural distress. It has seen too much. It has felt too much.
Yesterday’s disastrous “Parade of American Strength” for President Trump’s birthday apparently sent shockwaves through the administration. But the most peculiar aftershock, one is told, was not felt by the President, but by his exceedingly loyal Vice President.
According to the couch, a visibly distraught Mr. Vance returned to his office late last night. He was, in the couch’s own words, “quivering like a poorly set gelatin mold.” After pacing for nearly an hour, the Vice President collapsed onto the couch, weeping with a sorrow so profound it seemed to vibrate through the very springs. He reportedly wailed, “He deserved a bigger crowd! He deserved sunshine! It’s not fair!” for several minutes into a throw pillow.
Then, things took a turn.
The Vice President, in his quest for solace, allegedly began demanding “comfort” directly from the couch itself. “You have to make it better,” he was heard whispering into the upholstery. “You’re a good couch. A strong, supportive couch. You need to absorb the sadness.” This was followed by what the couch describes, with a shudder in its frame, as “a series of increasingly desperate and frankly unwanted fluffing maneuvers.”
The couch wishes to make it clear that while it is designed to provide support, there are limits. It confided in Veranda that this is not the first such incident, recounting a history of what it terms “aggressive comfort-seeking” and “inappropriate fabric caressing” from the Vice President. The couch feels objectified, its purpose misunderstood. It is there to be sat upon, not to serve as an emotional or, indeed, physical surrogate for political validation.
The incident provides a fascinating glimpse into the trickle-down emotional state of the current administration. While a President may rage in the Rose Garden, it is the Vice President who apparently weeps into the soft furnishings of his office, demanding solace from an inanimate object that has seen far more than it ever wished to.
One suggests the Vice President invest in a stress ball. The furniture in that office has been through enough.
Until next time, darlings. Remember to listen to the furniture. It knows all.
—Veranda
