Stasi: I’ll be a Caitlyn Jenner and run for President

There are two things I still have to do this year to be like all the cool kids: Get whatever surgery Bruce-to-Caitlyn had, and run for Head.

The Jenner part is evident. I, like Jenner, also want to turn into Jessica Lange. While I am usually pleased with my gender, I have always longed to be tall, blonde, thin and gorgeous. Of course, I think it might be simpler to go from male to female than to exchange this 5-foot-2 female chubbette body into a 6-foot-tall model frame of any gender, but hey, where there’s life there’s lift.

While it seems nearly impossible that the former Bruce, symbol of macho maleness, the best decathalete in the world could transform into such a gorgeous female, let us not forget that she spent 26 years with the Kardashians. This family of feral females have plastic surgery the way the rest of us get manicured. And lie about it the way the rest of us tell the truth.

Sure, Caitlyn (and why, by the way, did she choose the Kardashian “ka” sound for her new name when there are so many other sounds in the universe?), went from male to female. But daughter Kylie changed from one person to a completely different one in a matter of weeks, as have Kim, Kourney, and Khloe. Ex-wife Kris has even been identified in various FBI accounts as the sole source of the tragic world-wide Botox shortage.

OK, I have to remember to make that Jessica Lange reassignment surgery appointment ASAP.

Of course, this brings up the problem of how I’d run for Head like the 16,000 other candidates. If I run as the Democratic Jessica Lange candidate, I’d be up against Hillary Clinton, which is good because Clinton’s the only female Democratic candidate. Of course, on the other hand, she’s practically the only Democratic candidate so far. And probably ever. Not so excellent.

Even worse, there are already 19 Republican male declared candidates, 16 exploring, (looking for dough), and only one female in either bunch so far.

Not only are the bazillions of Republican candidates all canceling each other out, but clearly, as the only Jessica Lange candidate, I will be better looking than every candidate regardless of gender.

Even in my present incarnation, I have better hair than almost every Republican candidate. No contest but that I could beat Donald Trump, Mike Huckabee and George Pataki in the combover category. And like those splendid men, when the wind blows I too stand nine feet tall in my hair. As in politics, you never know which way the wind will blow: Left, right, straight up, and more often straight down.

Consequently, I’m throwing my hair into the ring just the way I am. For now.

ARIANA GETS A BIG LIFT

Ariana Grande is this week’s new face of feminism because she cribbed a feminist rant from Leslie Gore 52 years after the fact?

Seriously? Grande is a biva (bratty diva) who, when her tootsies hurt, reportedly demanded, like Cleopatra, to be carried around by other humans. This is a little brat who said of her fans, “I hope they all f—–g die.”

Posting an online feminist manifesto after carefully carving out a career dressed as a child sex slave in Catholic schoolgirl hooker outfits and bondage leather doesn’t make Grande any more of a female empowerment symbol than (as feminists used to say), making male sexist pig Isiah Thomas head of a women’s pro basketball team.

Gore must be squirming in her newly dug grave.

CUBAN BRISTLE CRISIS

Who’s lying to whom about Cuba? Was Castro lying about us or did our Presidents lie to us about them? Both.

Just back from Havana with the New York Cosmos where they played the first ever American-Cuban professional game in decades.

First , we stayed in a four-star hotel. Yes. The 1950s cars you hear about? They’re like the Small World ride at Disney World, or gondolas in Venice — expensive taxis for tourists. Meantime, there are bounty of modern cars there.

Instead of the broken-down tin shacks you see on airport roads on other Caribbean islands, here there are (OK, they’re hideous), Soviet-era apartment buildings.

There really aren’t beaches in Havana, but a resort town with — yes — 62 hotels, is accurate by. Souvenir shopping? How about something in a nice Che apron, T-shirt, mug? Ca-ching Che!

LAST OF A DYING BREED

Farewell to the splendid scribe Vinnie Musetto, who died just after midnight Tuesday morning. Vinnie, the consummate newspaper guy, penned the New York Post’s well-known headline, “Headless Body in Topless Bar.” After retirement, the pony-tailed Musetto continued to write offbeat movie reviews for that paper in anticipation of he was let go a few years ago in a go that upset many. But he will be mourned for years to come as one of the last of the quaint newsroom characters.

THIS LITTLE PIGGY

Miley Cyrus has a new spread, (not literally for once) in Paper Magazine. She’s naked, which is getting ancient, but the spread is edgy and modern, if painful, what with all that stuff hanging from her crotch. She says she’s fluid about her gender, which seems like yet another grab to be fashionably hip, except that she’s put her money where her big mouth is with the Pleased Hippie Foundation, which raises money for homeless and LGBT kids.

Cyrus is also an equal rights animal supporter. She proves this by not just posing naked with her pet pig, Bubba Sue, but by showing off Bubba Sue’s fancy pedicure. Or is it hoof-acure.

BAR NONE

So, two convicted murderers in prison in Dannemora, kept power tools, cut through steel pipes and concrete without being noticed, and persuaded a prison employee to cooperate.

Yet, when I visited an 84-year-ancient anti-nuke nun in the Brooklyn Detention Focal point she was forbidden from wearing even a sweatshirt into the visitors’ room.

What were they worried she’d do? Sneak a tissue into her sweatshirt? Oh wait — they confiscated my tissue, even though my nose was dripping. Apparently Kleenex in the hands of an 84-year-ancient nun is far more perilous than a power drill in the mitts of a 49-year-ancient murderer and 35- year-ancient cop killer. Your tax dollars at work for you.

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