Miss Match Suggests Comfort Foods for the Broken Hearted Silvio Berlusconi

As I write this, Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi is packing up his office, stuffing hundreds of framed photos of starlets and strippers into an empty Xerox box, grabbing the Mother-of-All-Rolodexes, and muttering a cranky farewell to his secretary.

He finally saw the writing on the wall. No, that’s not accurate; he had his face shoved up to it. For decades he’s had one eye (and a few hands) on the ladies and barely the other on the state of affairs in Italy. His focus has been almost exclusively on his personal life, much like a teenage boy whose hormones have just kicked in.

We’re all sympathetic to the need for politicians to have a personal life, but Berlusconi made it his full time job to minister to his primal needs, rather than prime-ministering to the citizens of Italy. It’s difficult to imagine a man possessing more bloated self-importance than Berlusconi. I’m even a tiny bit concerned that my writing a post about him will bloat him up more.

Having lost much of the support of his coalition, he was powerless to enact any measures to help Italy out of its debt crisis. Too many distractions paved the way to inertia and further economic crises: for example, his being on trial for corruption, tax fraud and paying for sex with a minor. His own newspapers made fun of him, women’s groups spoke out against his blatant sexism, and voters overturned laws he passed, including the one granting him immunity from prosecution. Immunity from prosecution… well, I’m surprised Silvio didn’t install red lights in his office, cart in a heart-shaped bed, and appoint a Minister of Lasciviousness. Or do away with the Chamber of Deputies and create a Chamber of Debaucheries.

Could there be a more ignominious way to leave office? Well, I suppose there could be. Berlusconi’s departure will put a huge crimp in his social life, I imagine. Young chicks can always find another self-important, wealthy, fat oaf waiting in the wings—one that has a job and isn’t the laughing stock of the country.

The ex-Prime Minister will struggle to find his way in the next few months. He’ll probably sequester himself in his villa in Milan, shuffling from room to room in his silk pajamas, wondering where it all went so wrong.

Miss Match can’t resurrect his reputation, but she can suggest some tasty treats to help soothe the broken hearted.

HEARTBREAK FOOD #1:  CHEETOS
By the time you get all that disgusting orange stuff out from under your nails and off the carpet, you’ll have forgotten all about your troubles.

HEARTBREAK FOOD #2:  COOKIE DOUGH
A well-known fact is that by eating stuff that rhymes with “woe” you’re less likely to consider jumping off a bridge.

HEARTBREAK FOOD #3:  CHOCOLATE
Its most important quality is that by lowering your blood pressure, you’re less likely to go after them with your 9-iron.

HEARTBREAK FOOD #4:  LITTLE DEBBIES CAKES
Little Debbie’s real claim to fame is that she’s been married 12 times. See what a massive dose of sugar and trans fats can do for ya?

HEARTBREAK FOOD #5:  WHIPPED CREAM
Though it may remind you of happier times, the sound it makes when you press the button will drown out even the most energetic sobbing.

HEARTBREAK FOOD #6:  CHEEZ-WHIZ & CRACKERS
There may be nothing close to resembling “natural” in this cheese product, but neither is the voodoo doll you created of all your exes.

HEARTBREAK FOOD #7:  MAC & CHEESE
Life is hard, isn’t it? Eat up. What with the emasculating journey you’ve been on, it might be ages before you experience anything resembling al dente again.

HEARTBREAK FOOD #8: TIRAMISU
It’s quite pretty but lacks substance. Perfect for the man who appointed television show girls to political office.

It might look as though my last few posts have focused a bit heavily on the Scoundrels Club, whose members are men. I’m hoping that December will lighten my mood, unless someone digs up some dirt on Santa Claus. Oh, woeful, woeful, woeful day!

Berlusconi in Love (Amor!)