On Friday, the New York Times reported that Sean Spicer resigned from his job as White House press secretary following President Trump’s appointment of Wall Street financier Anthony Scaramucci as communications director. Though we’ve only been together for six short months, we’ve been through so much: Spicer lying to us, Spicer humiliating himself in front of us, Trump humiliating Spicer, us laughing at Spicer. Let’s take a walk down memory lane and reflect on the Spicey-ist moments we’ve shared.
That time he had spinach in his teeth during a briefing and nobody bothered to tell him.
That time when, while talking about Assad, he said, “You had someone as despicable as Hitler who didn’t even sink to using chemical weapons,” and even seasoned reporters couldn’t hide their reactions.
And also mostly every time he was forced to defend Trump’s megalomaniacal and incoherent tweets.
Watch a supercut here.
That time we learned that he really, really hates Dippin’ Dots.
That time we found out he used to play the Easter bunny at the White House Easter Egg Roll because of course he did.
That time he hid in the bushes to avoid the press.
But claimed he was merely “among” the bushes
That time he was tasked with lint-rolling Stephen Miller’s suit.
That time Trump purposefully excluded him from a meeting with the Pope.
Spicer — a devoted Catholic, huge fan of Pope Francis, and high-ranking staff member — “was informed before the meeting there wasn’t room for him on the roster.”
That time people found his Venmo and kept requesting money from him.
That time we found out that his office décor was appropriately bleak.
Bare except for a framed picture of himself, a book on Naval warfare, and a Super Soaker.
Every time he tried to speak, really.
Farewell, Spicey. We’ll chew and swallow an entire pack of cinnamon Orbit gum in your honor.