The owner of the infamous Red Hen in Lexington, Virginia stirred up a hornet’s nest the other day by suggesting there should be “new rules” when it comes to serving supporters of President Trump.

Stephanie Wilkinson, the owner of the Red Hen, became the poster child for Trump Derangement Syndrome in 2018 when she told then-White House Press Secretary Sarah Sanders to leave the restaurant.

Writing in the Washington Post, Ms. Wilkinson said that in the era of the Trump administration restaurants should impose a new set of rules on conservative diners.

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“If you’re an unsavory individual – of whatever persuasion or affiliation – we have no legal or moral obligation to do business with you,” she wrote in the June 28 edition of the newspaper. “And that, too, is right.”

In essence, the policy is: no shoes, no shirt, no Democratic voter registration card, no service.

“In the meantime, the new rules apply,” Wilkinson wrote. “If you’re directly complicit in spreading hate or perpetuating suffering, maybe you should consider dining at home.”

Ms. Wilkinson singled out an incident that occurred at the Aviary, a high-end cocktail bar in Chicago. A waitress accosted Eric Trump and spit directly into his face.

Trump’s wife, Lara, addressed the attack during an interview on "The Todd Starnes Show."

"Thank God I wasn't there, Todd," she said. "As a seven-plus months pregnant woman, if you spit in my husband's face, I might have had a different reaction. But kudos to him for keeping his cool."

While Wilkinson said no one in the industry “condones the physical assault of a patron,” she did seem to suggest with a wink and a nod that she sympathized with the waitress.

“If you think about it: you can’t call people your enemies by day and expect hospitality from them in the evening,” she wrote.

Could you imagine the ordeal it must be to get a reservation at the Red Hen.

Hostess: Good afternoon, Red Hen reservations

Man: I'd like to reserve a table for two, please.

Hostess: Let me see what I have. Inside seating or outside?

Man: Outside.

Hostess: Is this for a special occasion?

Man: No ma'am. My wife just had a hankering for some fried chicken and they say y'all make a pretty good bird.

Hostess: And the name for the reservation?

Man: Clodknocker. Earl and Darlene Clodknocker. But I call the missus Sugar Blossom.

Hostess: Let's see, I just have two more questions to ask and we'll be ready to confirm that reservation. Are you a registered gun owner?

Man: Well, yes ma'am. I'm mighty proud to say I'm a card-carrying member of the National Rifle Association. And I have a CCP so if anything goes down during suppertime I'll have your six.

Hostess: And one final question, sir. Are you a Republican or a Democrat?

Man: Ma'am, I'm proud to call myself a gun-toting, Bible-clinging, Deplorable!

Hostess: (pause) Oh dear. I'm terribly sorry, sir. But we don't serve Deplorables here. Perhaps you might be more comfortable at a Waffle House or a Walmart?

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Man (slams down phone and hollers): Sugar Blossom, go get in the pickup truck. We're eating supper down at the Chick-fil-A.

So, if you plan on dining at one of those caviar and foie gras joints, be sure to ask if there’s an upcharge for the self-righteous bloviating – and don’t forget the Pepto-Bismol.

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