President Donald Trump on Jan. 24, 2017, in the Oval Office of the White House in Washington, D.C. Behind him are former White House chief of staff Reince Priebus, counselor to the president Kellyanne Conway, soon-to-be-former White House Communications Director Hope Hicks, maybe soon-to-be-former senior adviser Jared Kushner (second from right) and former senior counselor Stephen Bannon.
Photo: Shawn Thew-Pool (Getty Images)

Remember way, way, way, way, way back when Love & Hip Hop: New York was centered on Peter Gunz and his revolving sister wives? And way, way, way, way, way back before then, when Erica Mena was still on the show and hurling wine flutes like ninja stars at Rich Dollaz’ neck? And way, way, way, way, way back before then, when curmudgeonly fuckboy Joe Budden proposed to Tahiry in Times Square?

OK, maybe you don’t remember any of this. And if you do—if you are one of the few people able to recall the myriad principals and principal storylines of each season of LHHNY without the aid of Wikipedia or a 22-year-old niece—you probably forgot that you remember all of this, and I apologize for reminding you.


I had to share this nostalgia with someone, though, because this afternoon, as I learned that Hope Hicks would be the 637th person to exit the Trump White House, I couldn’t help thinking of the parallels between that caucastic clown car and the trials and tribulations of our favorite light-skinned and not-quite-married, New York-dwelling, H-list celebrities. AND WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT IT, THE PARALLELS AREN’T EVEN ALL THAT FAR-FETCHED!

Isn’t Reince Priebus (remember him?) the Trump White House’s equivalent of Consequence? Isn’t Sean Spicer just Winter Ramos with a comb-over? Isn’t Anthony Scaramucci just an Italian Rashidah Ali? I mean, we’ve all heard about Safaree’s, um, situation, and we know Steve Bannon likes to suck his own cock, but HAS ANYONE EVER SEEN SAFAREE AND BANNON IN THE SAME ROOM AT THE SAME TIME?!?! (AND YES, I AM NOT SO SUBTLY IMPLYING THAT THEY MIGHT BE THE SAME PERSON!)

My only hope now—really, this is literally my only hope—is that two years from now, after the entire Trump clan is indicted and Melania is returned to Ikea, I’ll have a similar moment of nostalgia about these motherfuckers. “Holy shit. Remember way, way, way, way, way back to that year-and-a-half stretch when Trump was president and still a free man? Holy shit, that was a bizarre fucking season. What were the producers thinking?” Basically, I hope to think of Darth Cheeto the way I think of Mendeecees.