Jill Biden Bends the Record

Bad news for President Trump. Six months out from the November midterms and the economy looks shaky. Single moms are working longer hours; the greenback doesn’t stretch as far; ground beef prices keep a-climbin’; the laptop class is being forced to train its AI replacements; and most inauspicious of all, former presidents can barely scrounge a nickel!

See of recent days: Joe Biden. Or should I say his better, more functional half, the esteemed doctor of readin’ good, Jill Biden.

The former First Lady is doing what all washed-out political figures sink to once the wishing well dries: the dreaded memoir tour.

Except, Mme. Biden isn’t flogging feel-good liberal platitudes to wine grandmas. Nor is she peddling Claudedrivel about “female leadership in an increasingly unstable world.” What Dame Biden is pushing is the prime commodity of her sex: behind-the-curtain gossip. Not just any hotsy totsy, but the genus of Washington goss that whole newsrooms make payroll with.

What’s more, her professed crack is bald can-covering. In other words, We Bidens are innocents! is the Simon & Schuster yarn she’s spinning. And it’s yielding returns, if a few dishy morning-show segments count as coin.

Matron Biden, more than anything else, wants to put the record straight, clearing her family of the perception of malfeasance while holding the highest office in the land. Her husband’s humiliating withdrawal from the presidential race remains an underdiscussed event in the era of oversharing. So why not tickle that insatiable Washington itch and give an insidery scoop as to what really went down in July 2024, when an incumbent head of state was sidelined? And pocket some cash from curious readers in the process?

Profiteers have to hand it to Biden Inc. Its principals never stop noodling on how to wring out every last penny from the most tenuous connection to government power. Every play is a shade of the Burisma buckrake.

Unfortunately for Baroness Biden, she lacks the dime-flipping chops of her spouse. And stepson. And brother-in-law. And probably that little Arkansas bastard whom the family ignores like a relative locked up for double homicide.

Sales of View from the East Wing: A Memoir have been, to use an oft-repeated crit word, “modest,” which is a gentle way of saying it’ll be remaindered by August. Mrs. Biden isn’t a Trump Administration insider talking out of school. This isn’t a Javelin tell-all. The magic beans she hoped to plant into gold have been spoiled by her own mendacity.

Washington is already a town of shameless excuse-mongers, who cast blame outward so often their fingers are rigor-mortised. Rare is a politician who accepts, without qualification, responsibility for anything, from nuking a third-world country to primordial sludge to ignoring blatant graft to boinking the comms director. But even in the pompish District, with all its wastrels, gutternsnipes, skivers, debauchees, poltroons, and “psychopathic authoritarians,” there exists, even in the sloppiest, braggiest, lecherous K Street crook, a healthy self-awareness. To crib Janet Malcolm: Every Beltway Booster who is not too stupid or too full of himself to notice what is going on knows that what he does is morally indefensible.

Jill Biden either overestimated her prevaricatory skills or simply assumed she’d be handed a hall pass to gloss over her husband’s ignominious downfall. Every interview she’s done, from legacy media to friendly chickies at “The View,” has featured one central question: Did you honestly think you’d get away with it?

The “it” being the notion that Joe Biden, after a term of stumbling around the Oval Office, dropping more malapropisms than an off-the-boat Chinese migrant with a broken mandible, was hale and hearty enough for four more years. The imperious mulier was reportedly the Edith Wilson behind the Biden Administration, coaxing her enfeebled breadwinner to gut it out. Then the infamous June debate put on broadcast what the White House desperately tried to veil: a Grandpa Simpson-in-Chief. A month and a Trump-bullet-piercing later, it was bye-bye Biden, who was put out to pasture by his party’s purseminders.

A majestrix like Jill Biden is certainly foresighted enough to anticipate questions on that extraordinary 24-day-drag. Politics, as it’s said, ain’t beanbag. The business craves headlines and viral video snatches. A seasoned pol-spouse should know.

Except Boss Bitch Biden tripped out the gate. During a CBS interview, she claimed during the disastrous forum when her husband was stringing illegible utterances on stage, that, “I thought, ‘Oh, my God, he’s having a stroke.’ And it scared me to death.”

Scared? Death? Stroke? All three of those fatal thoughts ran through your mind, so you congratulated him for a “great job” then rushed your suffering hubby off to… Waffle House? And we’re to accept this belittling revision with a “ho-hum” shrug, then ask about her summer reading list?

The recounting is an inartful excuse pulled from her bookful of ducks. The First Lady actually has the gall to claim: “Certainly, if [President Biden] exhibited cognitive impairment, I would not hesitate to say so. His staff would not hesitate to say so. But he was nowhere near that point in the summer of 2024.”

Nowhere near? This isn’t a plea to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears; it’s an order to gouge your irises and lance your lobules.

Gibbering Jilly can’t bring herself to admit she and her prezman did anything but act like selfless citizens until some mysterious, shadowy forces convinced the impeccable family to return to their beach homestead, like Cincinnatus exiting to honorable retirement. Is she dense? Is she lying? Is she genuinely off her onion? Is she going through manic psychosis, utterly convinced her angelic, well-meaning servant-spouse could have hobbled along to save the country?

A deep Freudian diagnosis isn’t necessary. The Bidens really are that full of themselves. By picking open the festering wound that was the 2024 election, the Delawarean Dukes do their party no favors. “Why are we rehashing years-old scores and clinging to relevancy to sell books about palace intrigue within a wing that doesn’t even exist anymore?” is how one former Biden apparatchik described the book-hawking roadshow.

Turns out, Joe Biden didn’t enter the arena to fight for the soul of the nation. He only sliced and stabbed to soothe his ego. And maybe earn a bonus fiduciary return.