Maybe we’re wrong to judge Wendi Murdoch for her giggling evasian of New York Magazine’s prying questions about whether she likes or watches that fuckhole Glenn Beck.
“‘I can’t say!’ she said, laughing and covering her mouth, while leaving the New Yorkers for Children gala on Tuesday. ‘I have to let my husband say. I can’t say. Sorry!’
Sure, it seems she’s tee-hee-heeing her way through life. Okay, she seems like a brain-dead trophy wife. And of course, it’s pretty gross that she must defer to her husband for an opinion, lest her riches be snatched back and her ass drop-kicked back to China. We may think these are signs of weakness.
But listen, Wendi Murdoch has got to be strong-ass woman. It probably takes a lot to bite your lip, close your eyes, and get screwed frequently by
the Devil Ol’ wrinkly scrote Rupe. That shit can’t be pretty. Lady must have a stomach of steel.
We’re talking about old balls here, people (balls that have lived seven decades!). Old balls and Glenn Beck in one conversation, and Wendi Deng is still standing. Good lord, she deserves a goddamn medal.
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