Whenever I see a picture of Melania Trump, the stunningly gorgeous Melania, who has learned how to maximize her already unforgettable features and style making her even more bewilderingly beautiful than ever, I get discouraged. Not because I'll never be as beautiful as Melania. No, I've been pretty enough and around enough models to know that physical beauty without inner beauty is laughable in about 5 minutes. 

 What discourages me is the frighteningly intransigent resistance to this obvious, flagrantly, irresistibly lovely creature. It reminds me of Churchill's quote about socialism being "the philosophy of failure, the creed of ignorance and the dogma of envy, whose only virtue was shared misery." Appreciating beauty refines our senses and lifts our minds to the ideal of truth and beauty in God. 

 I write novels about human beings with feelings who are searching for happiness. Clearly, the only happiness approved by the left is the joy of shared misery. What a rat hole to live in. I know my work and the response to it has been deliberately suppressed because I write happy endings of love and love of life and God. 

  If they can keep Melania off of every magazine in the world, what chance has a aspiring novel write like myself got?