Well, it looks as if Omarosa Manigault Trump IV is on her Chrisette Michele “Welcome me back, black America, because I didn’t know what I was doing” tour, and the first stop is Celebrity Big Brother, where Omarosa, the former director of communications for the White House Office of Public Liaison, proved that she is not, in fact, made of old goat hooves and abandoned car parts when she cried to castmate Ross Mathews about her time in the Trump administration.
I watched the full clip below, and it is with all due consideration that I say, FUCK OMAROSA.
Omarosa came into our lives as a villain on The Apprentice and has prided herself on being the villain ever since. When she learned that her master was in the running to actually become president of the United States, she was out here popping mad shit.
Remember when she claimed that the White House had a hit list of names?
“Let me just tell you, Mr. Trump has a long memory and we’re keeping a list,” Manigault, then the campaign’s director of African-American outreach, told the Independent Journal Review. Notice her use of “we’re,” as if her job were anything more than a personal Diet Coke getter from the executive fridge.
And let’s not forget this performance at the National Association of Black Journalists convention, in which the moderator couldn’t even ask her about how she came to work for such a divisive administration:
Yeah, so when it comes to Omarosa crying around a bunch of washed-up celebrities, I ask, who really gives a shit? Omarosa was the devil’s best worker and sold her soul to join an administration that cared nothing about anyone who looked anything like her. So why is she here now, and who are the tears for?
It’s too late for Omarosa to act as if her joining the Trump administration was a mistake. She loaned her blackness to his ministry. She sold her people out for a paycheck. She was one of the few black voices stanning for the president. This was a calculated and concerted effort. She campaigned for this man, spoke on his behalf, issued vague threats and challenged journalist April Ryan, who was only trying to do the Lord’s work for her people.
Make no mistake about it: Everything Omarosa does is calculated. Which is the reason she hopped right out of the White House and onto another reality show. This is her attempt to try to ingratiate her snakelike way into human form. This is merely an attempt to revamp her image, since one thing Omarosa cannot handle is being a nonmotherfucking factor; but in losing her executive-privilege guest pass to the presidential refrigerator, she has also lost her relevancy.
In spades terms: Omarosa outbid her hand.
In DJ Khaled terms:
I’m surprised that she was able to conjure enough emotion and zoo dirt inside the vacant and trampled space where her soul used to be to actually leak human tears. Omarosa’s relevancy ended right about the time when Trump had his folks toss her ass out of the White House, so this swan song of sadness and erstwhile regret—as if she was forced to take a job with a person who has emboldened white supremacy across the country—is not only phony as fuck but also offensive. The right-wing side of America may be willing to take you back, but know that your time on this side of the cafeteria is done.
The cool table doesn’t fuck with you. The White House doesn’t fuck with you. And soon, the Celebrity Big Brother house won’t fuck with you. I just called God to see where she stood and she said, “Steve, don’t bring me into this, but you know how I feel about Omarosa out here acting like medicated Tyrese.” We all know it’s only a matter or time before Omarosa goes full Omarosa and shows her entire ass, and my hope is that it’s the last time we have to see it.