The facts
Kristi Noem, formerly the governor of South Dakota and a homeland security secretary under Donald Trump, has filed for divorce from her husband, Bryon Noem, after 34 years of marriage. The divorce claim, citing "irreconcilable differences," was disclosed in court records filed in Hamlin County, South Dakota. The document was signed by Noem’s lawyer, Michael Sabers, on April 6, just over a week after the Daily Mail published photographs of Bryon Noem wearing inflated fake breasts under a spandex shirt. Kristi Noem stated at the time that she was "devastated" by the images and that the family had been "blindsided." The papers were filed in court this week, according to The New York Times. Sabers confirmed the filing and stated Noem would reserve further comments for the legal process. Bryon Noem’s attorney, Tim Bottum, said his client was "saddened that the marriage is ending" and would welcome the opportunity to share his perspective if court proceedings were necessary, adding that Bryon’s priority is to protect the family and move forward as loving parents and grandparents. The revelations follow weeks after Noem lost her job at the department of homeland security. Speculation about the state of her marriage had already surfaced amid rumors of a relationship with her aide, Corey Lewandowski. Noem, 54, married Bryon Noem, 56, in 1992, and they have three adult children.
Our take
Well, fuck. After 34 years, the glue holding together the Noem household wasn’t political ambition, shared values, or a mutual love of shitty governance - it was apparently the structural integrity of Bryon Noem’s goddamn spandex. The governor, fresh off getting punted from a job where the only qualification was licking Trump’s boots, has decided the final straw was seeing her husband dressed as a bargain-bin Pamela Anderson impersonator. She was "devastated" and "blindsided," which, in political-cunt speak, translates to:
How the fuck do you spin a press release when your life partner’s main hobby is publicly testing the load-bearing limits of synthetic fabric with prosthetic tits? This is a man who looked at a family photo album and thought, ‘You know what’s missing? Me looking like a horny air mattress.’
Now the lawyers are involved, with all the solemnity of a clown-car funeral. Her attorney files the papers. His attorney says he’s "saddened" and his priority is to "protect the family." Protect them from what? Further paparazzi shots of him cosplaying as a rejected ‘Baywatch’ extra? The man’s idea of a midlife crisis isn’t a sports car; it’s a chest so artificially inflated you could bounce a quarter off it and fund a Super PAC.
Let’s not pretend this split is some profound tragedy. This is the collapse of a partnership built on a foundation of pure, unadulterated vanity, now crumbling because one half finally dressed his up for the whole world to see. She’s a political grifter who got fired; he’s a walking anatomical prank. They deserve each other, but apparently even Kristi Noem has a limit, and it’s her husband’s fucking falsies.
