FAIL! FAIL! FAIL!

Reportage and commentary by Gonzo First Dog Bo

The situation’s become pretty hairy. I think they may be coming unglued. The president’s always talking about wearing one of Phil Spector’s old shock wigs and seeing if anyone recognizes him. Geithner’s been running around marveling about how cool it is that America now has the historical distinction of employing more czars than the Russian Empire. TOTUS, meanwhile, stands over in the corner blasting FAIL! FAIL! FAIL! across his screen every 5 minutes.

I’ve been thinking of tucking a tube of mace under my collar. I may have to start dumping Patrón in my water bowl soon. I’m convinced they have no idea how deeply they’re digging themselves.

This afternoon’s economic “summit” was no different. We were in the usual place, the Oval Office, with the usual gang, Hussein (it’s cool to say his middle name now) and Rhambo and Geithner and Biden and even Gibbsy (whose constant drooling is really starting to get on my nerves).

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Gibbsy,” Hussein says, his feet propped on his desk, the soles of his shoes pointing toward Israel. (He’s been doing this all day since he found out it stirred up the Israelis, almost habitually, like he’s wondering if they can really see him.) “I heard that right about the time I was on the phone disrespecting Bibi the other day Rush was making this joke: ‘What do Obama and God have in common? Neither has a birth certificate. How do they differ? God does not think he's Obama.’

“I don’t get it. Why would he say a thing like that?”

“He thinks he’s Letterman, sir,” Gibbsy says, wiping a thin trail of drool dangling from his mouth.
“Well, that’s just awful,” Hussein said. “Letterman’s such a funny guy. Him and Jon Stewart…they they’re such great supporters these days.” He suddenly blurts out: “You know I wanted to be a comedian back in Indonesia, but they told me Muslim goat humor wouldn’t get me to the White House. Yuck Yuck Yuck.”

“Mr. President,” Rhambo says, his snake eyes narrowing to slits: “It didn’t. I really think we should probably stick to the economy.”

“Right, right,” the president says, taking his feet down from the desk and straightening his tie and intertwining his fingers before him, the serious man now. “We have a lot of work to do, gentlemen. What’s the story,” he asks, hunched forward, slowly panning the room with his beatific gaze.

“Well, sir….SLURRRRRRPPP…we have some problems. Unemployment numbers are ….SLURRRRRRPPP…out and, well, it’s up to 9.4%,” Gibbsy says, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

The president shakes his head violently back and forth and leans back in his chair and purses his lips. “I thought we said it would never get that high; why that’s doomsday scenario for us, isn’t it Tim?”

“Yes, Mr. President,” Geithner says through his teeth as he gnaws on a hangnail with the rhythm of a jackhammer….dthdthdthdthdth… dthdthdthdthdth… dthdthdthdthdth. He stops and looks right at the president. “And some folks out there are pretty sure that Stimulus is a failure, precisely because we’re beyond the doomsday unemployment figures and the money just doesn’t seem to be helping (not that we’ve really released that much). Since that bill passed, 1.6 million people have joined the unemployment rolls, sir.”

“If things get any worse, you’re looking at double-digit unemployment, a presidency killer,” Rhambo says, his forked tongue darting out to sample the scent of the mood in the room.

In the corner, TOTUS shivers and flashes FAIL! FAIL! FAIL! across his screen. No one pays him any mind.

“Well, haven’t we ‘saved or created’ 150,000 jobs?” the president fires back at Rhambo, the same look Michelle gave Bruni the other day crossing his face.

(I start to think I should have brought that mace. I mean, really, just how many times in history has a president been maced? I’m betting not many. Probably none by his dog. It could get interesting around here one of these days. I make a note to definitely check with my dealer later.)

“We’ve just got to spend that Stimulus money faster,” the president says, waving a hand at Rhambo. “And have Congress spend less. And get Kenneth Feinberg, our new pay czar, to get the corporations to spend less on their executives. Oh, and maybe we’ll just have to borrow a little more than a few billion for health care. Really, sometimes I think I’m the only one standing here between the country’s survival and the pitchforks. Without me, I swear we’ll be bulldozing all of the cities.”

He looks around the room again for approval.

(I’ve spent enough time around him since I came here during Easter to know he’s very insecure. He needs love and attention, someone to take him for a walk now and then and scratch behind his ears and tell him he’s a good boy and give him a treat, even when he’s completely off his rocker.)


“That’s right, Mr. President, you are The One,” Gibbsy says… SLURRRRRRPPP.

“Indeed,” Rhambo says, his tongue smelling the air again.

“You’re the man!” Biden says, ogling the cover of the most recent issue of Family Circle in his hands.

Hussein continues: “Joe…haven’t we been saying that Stimulus is a complete success, that it’s going to be a long, hard, road to recovery, yes, but we’re gaining ground? Isn’t that what we’ve been saying?”

“Hey, man, don’t ask me, this is all above my pay grade,” Biden says, flipping his magazine open and turning it sideways and frowning. “Hey…where’s the centerfold?”

“Yeah…um…right. Sorry, Joe.” Hussein looks up at the ceiling, as if he were trying to call on Allah, then lowers his gaze to the room and starts his favorite monologue, the whine in his voice creeping higher and higher with every word: “Look, people keep saying I want the government to run everything. I DON’T! I don't want to run auto companies, and I don't want to run banks. I've got two wars I've got to run already. I’ve got North Korea. I've got more than enough to do. But with all this trouble, government’s the only resource with the power to fix things.”

He finishes and looks around the room for approval, and, on cue, everyone bursts into laughter.

“I LOVE IT when you tell the press that joke, sir,” Biden says, laughing and laughing and laughing.

In the corner, TOTUS still flashes FAIL! FAIL! FAIL! across his screen, and everyone still ignores him.

“Yeah, sometimes I can hardly contain myself,” the president says, beaming.

“Alright…alright…hold on now. Let’s get serious: It’s time to ask: WWJCD?”

“What would Jesus Christ do?” Gibbsy says, his mouth suddenly closed, the drool gone, his eyes wide, as if he’s just heard the craziest thing ever.

“NO!” The president shouts. “Gibbsy, how many times do I have to tell you? We don’t say that name anymore. WWJCD stands for: What Would Jimmy Carter Do?”

“He’d run off to monitor fixed elections in Iran,” Rhambo says.

“He’d lead us into stagflation,” Biden says, looking up from his magazine and flashing his goofy smile.

“I think we’re already heading there,” Geithner says in agreement.

“Yeah, maybe. But here’s the thing.” The president lowers his voice, almost to a whisper, as if people who voted for him were nearby and wouldn’t like what he was about to say. “You know, I read the other day the economy in Washington is booming, that unemployment has shrunk to 5.6%, that college grads are shunning Wall Street and coming here instead.”

“Well, sir. That’s because about half of the jobs you’ve ‘saved or created’ are government jobs,” Rhambo says, hissing.

“I know,” the president says, smiling. He’s so pleased his ears seem to wiggle. Not for the first time since I’ve been here, I resist the urge to bite one. “That’s my point. Why don’t we just take a stake in everything?”

Life starts to color Rhambo’s cold-blooded, dead-fish face. He smiles, his forked tongue curling with delight.

“Why don’t we just go out and force the public and private business that are on the brink of collapse -- which is pretty much everyone, at this point -- into government protection. Let’s forget about small numbers, like a few million. Let’s save and create 150 million jobs through government takeover.” The president, so pleased with his plan, stands and smacks his hands together, the loud POP! jolting Biden awake, who’d fallen into a bit of a nap, his Family Circle apparently too deep for afternoon reading.

“The only thing that’s still not clear to me is how are we going to pay for it all.” The president looks way in thought.

“PAY?” Geithner and Rhambo and Biden and even Gibbsy (normally a little slow on the uptake) all say, in unison before starting a chorus of laughter (real, this time).

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

“We don’t PAY, sir,” Rhambo says. “The TAXPAYER pays! Remember? Crisis is…”

“Opportunity,” the president finishes and smiles like a loon.

I shake my head, pretending I have an itch in one of my ears. You simpleton megalomaniac, I think. You’re digging your own political grave, and taking the country down with you. Out of the side of one eye, I see TOTUS in the corner, wobbling back and forth, so violently, now, I don’t even have to turn my head all the way around to see his screen:

FAIL! FAIL! FAIL!

This satire is cross-posted at Smart Girl Nation and Feed Your ADHD.

Ten Reasons Why Medicare for All Will Be AWESOME!

From medicareforall.net: “MEDICARE FOR ALL would be like sunshine and a beautiful sky, a grassy field, people relaxing and children playing…like a sunny breezy day.”

Oh, you silly, silly conservatives, pouting and moaning and shouting from your pulpits about the dangers of socialized medicine. You just need to come back down and wallow with the people for a change in the mythology of the horrors of today’s American medical care. My recommendation? When in a Social Democracy. (It’s kinda like the “when in Rome” thing, but since we liberals say just about anything with the intent of bringing about something completely opposite, let me go ahead and spell it out for you: Smoke more dope to get in touch with your inner mellow, then pop a few Vicodin when the paranoia sets in.)

It’s a right good prescription for a new progressive vibe, the consciousness to get on board with the sweeping health care reform heading your way, Medicare for All (and the only kind of medicine you’ll really be able to find by then, anyway). This idea for health care reform is so fresh it’s like that block of Philadelphia Cream Cheese I’ve kept in the back of the fridge for special occasions, for 10 years now. What the heck, they say a little hair on the cheese is good for your insides now and then. Plus, it’s the kind of special treat you’ll reserve for yourself once you become accustomed to the exciting promise of life under Medicare.

In fact, here are 10 really cool reasons why Medicare for All will be just, like, soooooo awesome:

10. Everything will be decided for you. You won’t even have to think about it. Oh, sure, at first, your employer will dangle a few “options” under your chin, offering the choice of private insurance plans A and B or government cheese. Little by little, as more and more people opt for the easy life on government street and private insurance companies try to recoup spiraling losses with higher premiums, your employer will ask you to pay more and, then, like a sunny breezy day, suddenly blow your options back to Antarctica and shove you into the single-payer plan. From then on, you won’t even need to think about it. You’ll be under the loving arm of the Motherland, nuzzling against her for comfort and care, in health (we’ll get to “in sickness” in good time). And you won’t even have to search for your own doctor! Government health czars will find one for you. You don’t want to think too hard about choices anyway, do you? Why waste brain cells figuring out what’s best for you and your family when you could be watching Season 42 of American Idol?

9. It’ll be FREE! Free, I say. It’ll be so free you won’t even have to bother checking your pay stubs to make sure the accounting department didn’t accidentally deduct the entire company’s insurance premiums from your check. You won’t need to worry about that sort of thing anymore. Why, a simple little tax rate of 900% on your earnings (to include your benefits) will come off the top of your automatic bank deposits each payday (like your bookie’s cut of your college football winnings), nice and tidy, easy squeezy, as simple as any good government program should be. Just tuck the old way of doing things in the back of your hippocampus and forget it. And, while you’re at it, have a lollypop; they’re recycled from the floor scrapings of the Government Candy Factory, formerly known as Tootsie Roll Industries.

8. You will get more reading done. With more and more people entering the system, your chances for grabbing a doctor’s time will shrivel (what those in the biz like to call “rationing”). You’ll become intimate with the wonderful world of waiting lists, as if you’re standing at the back of a line snaking outside your doctor’s waiting room into the hallway and outside the front door and across the street, stretching to the other side of the county. You will spend your waiting time being more productive than ever before. You wanted to read War and Peace in your lifetime, anyway, right? That’s unintended enrichment right there, baby. Quality health care in the time it takes to read Tolstoy, a splendid marketing campaign that’s sure to impress.

7. Retirees and their caretakers love it; you will too! Why, it’s incredibly fun when you’re 70 to find out your doctor suddenly won’t see you because you’re on Medicare. It’s even more fun searching for a new doctor among the dwindling numbers of primary care physicians, many of whom already can’t make enough from equally declining Medicare reimbursements to keep their businesses afloat. Meanwhile, if you’re taking care of dear old mom or dad, think of the hilarious phone calls you have to make when Medicare suspends coverage for their prescriptions and the 10 different people you have to scream at to find the root of the problem and get it fixed. You have a better chance of navigating the bureaucracy of the cable company when you mysteriously get billed 6 months in a row for services you didn’t order. I like a good mystery, don’t you?

6. It’ll be better than going to Disney World. Just like Chrysler and Government Motors and the federal government overall, Medicare is already bankrupt. By 2018, Medicare will be running a deficit of around $100 billion; compared to the overall CBO estimates of the federal deficit by then, I’d say Medicare is incredibly stable, like the Titanic just before it hit the iceberg. Throw the entire population under the Medicare umbrella, and you’ll create the greatest amusement park ride of all time. The terror of experiencing the violent motions of a sinking ship is drastically overrated anyway.

5. We’ll need fewer medical students. Since doctors already earn less, thanks to Medicare and Medicaid, more would-be medical students will go into something else, like garbage collection…or undertaking. Those two businesses are easily the least likely to fall under government control anytime soon. Garbage is money, always has been (ask The Mob); for med students, taking care of the dead would be just a few steps away from operating on the live, without the $300,000 in student loan debt or the hassles of malpractice insurance.

4. We’ll see the invention of doctor trailer parks. Doctors who stay in the biz (due either to their own altruistic reasons or, more likely, to government extortion in exchange for the forgiveness of student loans or practice-related debt) will experience the community joy of public assistance, using food stamps to fill a shelf or two of their refrigerators (if they even have electricity). They’ll sell their homes at a loss and move into federal trailer parks for doctors, seeing patients out of the back room to cut down on practice overhead. The parks will have names like Bones Village and Blue Star Doctors Park and Good Samaritan Estates and take the place of hospitals, saving the federal government billions annually (because, naturally, we’ll have to bail out hospitals by then, too). They’ll become tourist destinations; we’ll plan vacations around our doctor visits and then tour the grounds, letting little Jimmy ride his first x-ray machine in exchange for a $5,000 admission fee. Universities will offer classes about them, with names like Contemporary Medical Trailer Park Economics and Staph Infection in the Trailer Park Hospital. Congress, meanwhile, will continue to conduct annual hearings on the State of the American Healthcare Crisis.

3. If you get cancer, you can see the world (or what’s left of it). The Government Health Decision Board will rule you ineligible for care, saving the taxpayers (by then) billions. You’ll use your retirement savings, or what’s left after you pulled them out of the market just before The Crash of ’12 and hid them under a stone in the hearth, to take a fishing boat to Haiti, the ocean cruise business having gone under and Americans no longer visiting any country east of Bermuda after nuclear ballistic missiles, unable to reach North or South America, wiped out every other continent during Iranian President Ahmed Ahmadinejad’s failed attempts to annihilate Washington. You’ll meet a witch doctor who will make you drink chicken’s blood and mumble incantations while stuffing his face in a bong during a 4-hour ceremony to exorcise your tumor. Amazingly, you’ll recover and come back to America and live a long and healthy life, taking annual vacations (by row boat, since you’re now broke) to Haiti for preventive health care.

2. On a related note, trailer park emergency rooms will have far less congestion than the old hospitals. Take your typical accident victim today. When he’s wheeled in, his arm is nearly severed and he needs a bucket of blood and is comatose, having had half his brain crushed when he was thrown from the vehicle. Medicare for All will simplify the whole problem. Accident victims will be treated only if they still have more than 75% of their blood and all of their limbs and at least 90% cognitive function (no substitutes, please). This will preserve the dwindling blood supply and eliminate the waste of resources required to keep a patient on life support. (Plus, it will help save the planet!) And think of the boon for transplantation! Why, with all of the accident victims unworthy of treatment ending up dead, we’ll have mobile organ harvesting sites outside each doctors’ trailer park. Donor waiting lists will become obsolete…that is, of course, if the recipients are still working and able to pay their share of taxes in support of the Motherland.

1. It’s patriotic to pay taxes. If you have to pay taxes anyway, you might as well fund a good cause, excessive taxation being the greatest form of charity (for those who didn’t earn the money in the first place). Medicare for All is as good a cause as any other, except for maybe freedom. Besides, it’s not every day you get to put best in class American ingenuity into the hands of bureaucrats and completely destroy it, all while finding your government sponsored sunny breezy day.

This satire has been cross-posted at Feed Your ADHD and Smart Girl Nation.

Delusional Dream Scene Post: "We Are Out Of Socialists"

Sun May 24 2009 8:32:18 ET

In a stunning holiday interview with G-SPAN, President b. Hussein dejectedly told Americans: "We are out of socialists."

G-SPAN host Steve Scully broke from a meager Washington press corps (only 4 reporters showed up, what with all media but Fox News and the Government-Satellite Public Affairs Network having gone out of business) with less than probing questions for the tired president.

SCULLY: You know the state of affairs: the automakers have stopped production in the U.S., all banking concerns have moved to Ireland to take advantage of the lack of corporate tax there, the Depression is going into its third year now. At what point do you run out of socialists, so it can get better?

OBAMA: Well, we are out of socialists now. We’ve been beating down doors in even the most elite neighborhoods, but all of our former supporters seem to have turned their backs on us, even George Soros. Of course this was not caused by any decisions we've made. This is a consequence of the crisis that we inherited and in fact the Bush administration’s failure to make some good decisions on everything from health care to who cleans the White House toilets.

Well, maybe it really is our fault. See we've had a short-term problem, which is we used up all of our allotted socialists to completely rewrite our governing system, we had to deal with the auto companies (and they said, screw this, we’re moving to another country) and a huge recession that turned into a Depression because of incredible deficits we were never able to get our arms around (‘cause we spent like a college freshman with his first 50 credit cards) and cap and trade taxes and bailouts for the banking and media and minority radio station and taxi cab and trucking and railroad and airline and shipping and cable and satellite TV and department and grocery store industries. Not to mention half of the country unemployed and massive inflation (Did you see the price of bread today? $100,000 a loaf…wow!) and interest rates creeping up around 40 percent.

So we have a short-term problem and we also have a long-term problem. The short-term problem is dwarfed by the long-term problem. And the long-term problem is we’ve got an election around the corner and no one to vote for us. If we don't start drugging the homeless with mind-numbing Kool-Aid to substantially vote for us, we can't stay in power to complete the remaking of America.

So, one option is just to do nothing, which is what we should have done when we came into power and just let the market and the economy correct itself. But at this point, we’ve intervened so badly and created so many unintended consequences (such as the unemployed taking their government cheese and selling it in Canada in exchange for health care…how does that happen?), that it's too expensive for us to make some short-term investments in anything, well except for maybe bread. Bread, these days, appears to be a great short-term investment. We can't afford it. We've got this incredible deficit and a subpar bond rating and not even Cuba wants to loan us money anymore.

Along that trajectory, I just don’t see us scaring up anymore socialists unless we start cloning members of the administration, but even that’s a long-term goal since our science policies were way off the mark, particularly after we discovered that using embryonic stem cells to treat disease leads to incredible cascades of cancer-cell generation, wiping out 100 percent of the human beings who were volunteered for clinical trials. But at least we put a dent in the rightwing extremist population…well, for a while, anyway.

SCULLY: When you see GM though as “Government Motors,” your reaction?

OBAMA: Well, you know -- it was a great idea on paper, but now that the puppet CEO came to his senses and moved the entire company to Taiwan overnight (kinda like when Robert Irsay moved the Colts to Indianapolis without telling anyone), it’s really only a shell company now. We do make great motors for electric toy cars. Too bad the kids can’t afford to buy them. Did you see what it costs to buy a 2.5-pound tricked-out remote control Meeko Nissan Lessthanimpressiva at Government Toys ‘B Us? $50,000, what it used to cost me to buy a slightly pre-owned Escalade before I was elected. On the positive side, just think of the kind of revenue stream we can tap into if it ever takes off with the consumer!

SCULLY: States like California are now so bad off, they’re trying to secede and form mini republics with neighboring states, will you be forced to send in the military to keep those states in line?

OBAMA: No. Unfortunately, most of the members of the military have gone AWOL and we’ve only got about 1,000 troops left (especially since we sacrificed most of them who were stationed in Iraq and Afghanistan in order to partner with Iran to destroy Israel), although we do have confidence that the vice president’s son, General Joseph Robinette “Beau” Biden III, can put a retention plan together by the year 2050.

SCULLY: William Howard Taft served on the court after his presidency, would you have any interest in being on the Supreme Court?

OBAMA: You know, I am not even sure there’s going to be a Supreme Court left once I get through, so there’s that problem too....

Developing...

Oh…damn…I’ve been sleep posting again. For a minute there I thought it was 2012, and b. Hussein had bankrupted the country, taken over too many private businesses, and stolen so much wealth that he was worried the voters were going to kick him out of office in a few months. Alas, half-lucid from insomnia, I was only twisting Drudge’s report from yesterday.

Well…at least there's still time…for real change we can believe in.

Cross-posted over at Feed Your ADHD, where I haven't slept since yesterday.

The Obamapranos: Eh Joey!

Chapter 2: “Eh Joey”

In the Oval Office, President b. Hussein leans back in his chair, characteristically propping his feet on the great English Resolute desk used by all but three presidents dating back to 1880, his eyes leveled at the pages of Open Veins of Latin America: Five Centuries of the Pillage of a Continent, the book, a present from Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez, in his left hand. A Marlboro dangles from his lips, despite White House rules against indoor smoking. He plucks the butt from his mouth with his other hand and flicks the ashes, sprinkling a few on the heirloom desktop as they tumble toward a chrome ashtray. The president frowns, brushing the ashes to the carpet with indifference, as if they were a petition from Republicans to reach across the aisle to keep the American taxpayer from having to fork over more of their earnings for social programs.

A knock sounds at the door.

“Yeah. Comin,” the president barks.

The door opens, and the vice president, one Joe Biden, walks into the room. He ambles in like an orangutan, slovenly and haphazard, incongruous to his station and his surroundings. He stops in front of the desk and waits. The president does not look up.

After nearly 10 seconds, Biden breaks the silence. “You sent for me, chief?”

“I did.” The president turns a page in his book. He does not look up.

“So…what…um…ya gonna spank me or somethin’? You’re actin’ all medieval.”

b. Hussein closes the book and takes his feet down and sets the book on the edge of the desk, swiveling his chair to face the vice president. He looks up and glares.

“Joey. You’ve become a distraction. Whahmigonnadowitchu?”

Biden raises his eye brows and grins. “Whatsamatter now, chief. You’re still not sore about that swine flu business from a couple weeks ago, areya?”

The president tilts his head to the left and rolls his eyes and squeezes them shut and sighs. “No, Joey. Itsa little more recent den dat. Memba your speech da other day, when ya spoke for me at da Gridiron Club dinner, so I could be da first president since Grover Cleveland not ta show up? Memba whatchu said?”

Biden stares blankly at the president and then, as if a little caretaker inside his brain has turned on a processor, seems to come online and snaps his head back and says: “Oh, yeah! That was a hoot.”

“A ‘hoot?’” the president says, mockingly, looking at Biden as if he were a stumblebum who just came in from Lafayette Park for a free nip and a five-spot. “Let me quote you.”

A young naval officer giving me a tour of the Naval Observatory showed me the secret underground bunker where Cheney hid during 9/11. It’s behind this massive steel door. It’s got an elaborate lock with a narrow connecting hallway lined with shelves filled with communications equipment.

The officer told me that when Cheney was in lock down, this was where his most trusted aides were stationed.

“Sound remotely familiar, Joey?”

“Um. Yeah. I’m beginning to remember saying something like that.” The vice president looks down at his shoes for a moment, then back at the president and holds up his hands. “But…hey…ya gotta remember. It was, like, the heat of the moment. I was just warming the crowd up. They had this guy speak before me, I think his name was Bob Schieffer, who was all boring and stuff, kept talking about how CBS News sets the industry standard for journalistic fairness.” Biden slaps his thigh and opens his mouth and lets out a booming laugh. “We all know they’re so far up your cornhole they’ll have an exclusive if you ever grow polyps.”

“ENOUGH,” the president screams, standing up behind his desk. “I picked you to be vice president for your experience, but you keep acting like a two year old. I have enough problems with Nancy Pelosi and her expanding and ever-changing tale of when she knew about waterboarding. I have Dick Cheney gaining popularity on me in the polls. Dick…FRIGGIN’…Cheney! I’ve gotta get the Waxman-Markey bill and backdoor national health care through Congress these next few months. I can’t have a vice president running around, dropping mouth bombs like Don Imus every 5 seconds.”

The president turns away and shakes his head and stares out at the South Lawn. “Don’t make me do something I’ll regret, Joey.”

Biden lowers his eyes as if ashamed but…then…can’t help himself…and tries to break the ice:

“Well, look at it this way, chief. If Nancy’s next in line after me for your job, you’d better plan on sticking around for a while.”

The president sits down hard in his chair and leans forward and puts his head in his hands.

“Joey. I sweartagod…oh…crap…I keep forgetting we don’t say that here anymore.” He looks up at Biden, his eyes as hot as Bill Clinton’s libido if he were forced to stay in the same room overnight with a drunken college co-ed. “Don’t push me, Joey.…I’ll don't wanna have to make you an offer you can’t refuse. You don’t wanna know that side of me.”

Biden, thinking the president is joking, throws his head back and laughs and laughs and laughs. "That's a good one, sir. Who says you're not funny." And he laughs and laughs and laughs.

The lights go out.

And Biden screams.

Cross-posted at Feed Your ADHD.

Exposure

Obama's 'deal with devil' exposed in satirical film

The makers of a "mock-mentary" film premiering this month say their purpose is to "strip bare" the 44th president and his intentions for America.

Mirroring President Obama's career, "O.B.A.M. Nude," which stands for "Occidental Births a Monster," tells the satirical tale of a freshman at Occidental College in Los Angeles who makes a deal with the devil. In exchange, the main character, O.B.A.M., gets admitted to Columbia University, becomes a community organizer in Chicago, attends Harvard Law School and rises to the presidency of the United States.

Ok, where's the satire? Sounds fairly accurate so far. :) The left has no sense of humor when it comes to The ONE. It was real funny when they compared Bush to a chimp. It was hilarious when a film showed him being assassinated, but this type of film? Well, now, it will be denounced from the highest, and lowest, corners of the MSM.

Read more (video) at An Ol' Broad's Ramblings.

EXCLUSIVE! Inside Obama’s Secret Post Tax-Day Tea Party

As witnessed by Gonzo Journalist First Dog Bo:

We were somewhere inside the Oval Office when the drug of power began to take hold. b. Hussein sat slumped behind his great English mahogany-oak Resolute Desk, inebriated, his head balanced sideways on wads of cash stacked all around him, drooling long beads of satiated saliva on the silk-Kevlar desk blotter, a nearby neon sign flickering on and off:

The World Is Mine … The World Is Mine … The World Is Mine.

All around him, strewn on couches, lounging on chairs, balled like vipers into tight little rolls of writhing socialism were various members of his gang. They had unsavory names, one and all, like "Tax-Cheat" Timothy Geithner and Hilary “Billary” Clinton and Joe “Sixpack” Biden” and Rahm “Rahmbo” Emanuel and Janet “Top Cop” Napolitano and Robert “Ahhh!” “Gibbsy” Gibbs. Teleprompter stood off in the corner, alone and brooding, his power relay recharging. I sat silently at the president’s side, as I’d been instructed in obedience school, exercising every ounce of puppy restraint not to jump up and bite off the big ear jutting into the air like the Superdome.

It was the day after the Tea Party craze, when those loony Right-Wing Extremist Conservatives and Libertarians and Constitutionalists and Fed-Up Americans, all 12 of them, if you believed CNN, shamelessly holding 2-year-old babies as props, screamed and foamed at the mouth and pleaded for their futile voices to be heard, loud and clear, as far away as about two blocks, again, if you believed CNN, about uncontrollable government spending and high taxation and general dickheadness toward freedom-loving people not smart enough to embrace the utopia of b. Husseinism.

...................................................................................................................

The president, picking up his head, licked his lips: "Can somebody get me another straw? I need to do another line of this shredded cash?"

Gibbsy, uncoiling himself from the closest chair, hissed and handed the president a straw and tried to speak: "Ahhhh….ahhhh….ahhhhh."

b. Hussein: "That’s okay, Gibbsy, don’t strain yourself. Hey, Geithener. This is good stuff! Too bad the American people can’t keep it in their wallets anymore, what with me stealing it and giving it to the poor and all!"

Billary: "Bring in the Fembots!"

Before making her announcement, she’d picked her head up from one of the couches, where she'd been passed out in a drunken stupor for most of the afternoon.

b. Hussein: "Hilary! For crying out loud. Quit clowning around. Will you be serious for once?"

Sixpack: "Yeah, and shake that hangover off!"

b. Hussein: "Joe! You, too. We have serious work to do."

Sixpack: "Ja, mein Führer."

b. Hussein: "Rahmbo, what’s the SITREP" ... giggles … "I just LOVE this new lingo they have here" .... giggles some more … "What’s the SITREP on that Tea Party business from yesterday."

Rahmbo: "Well, Mr. President. Our people on the ground, the news media, are telling us anywhere from 60,000 to 120,000 ‘people,’ and I use that term as if I am unclean, attended more than 750 rallies in 50 states."

b. Hussein: "So…that means…no one rallied in the other 7 states?!!!! That’s GOOD! Rahmbo. They still like me there!!!!"

Rahmbo: "Ah…yeah…Mr. President. That’s…umm… what it means. But, if I could continue, when you consider the various right-wing news sources, and bloggers, of course, well, the figure may have been somewhere closer to 250,000…or more."

b. Hussein: "Tim? What’s that mean, like 2,000 people in every state?"

Tax-Cheat: "Huh? Hey, don’t ask me, man. I don’t do math, man. Um…can you pass that straw and those rolling papers? I wanna show you something I saw in a Cheech and Chong movie once, man."

b. Hussein: "Ooookah! Well, Janet…it couldn’t be that bad, could it?"

Top-Cop: "Well, sir, by our calculations, and this is based solely on conjecture, you know, the entire basis of that fabrication we put out to all the police departments called Rightwing Extremism: Current Economic and Political Climate Fueling Resurgence in Radicalization and Recruitment, I would recommend you reconsider closing Gitmo. We’re going to need somewhere to put all these domestic terrorists, well, after you release the current Gitmo residents to suburban America, of course."

b. Hussein: "The Tea Party people?"

Top-Cop: "Yes, sir. They believe in the Constitution. Constitution…baaaad! Socialism… gooood!!!!"

In unison, everyone in the room breaks into a chorus of zombie chanting not unlike the way voters mumbled “change you can believe in!” as they marched haphazardly, limbs and flesh and hair falling from their withered frames, toward the voting booths: Constitution…baaaad! Socialism…gooood!!!! Constitution…baaaad! Socialism… gooood!!!! Constitution…BAAAAD! Socialism…GOOOOD!!!!

Sixpack: "Hey. Anybody got a Budweiser? I’m thirsty as all hell."

b. Hussein: "Alllright, alllright. Let’s get back to work here. So…Gibbsy? What’s our response to the American people about these parties?"

Gibbsy: "Ahhh….Ahhhh….Ahhhh. Fidablkebunk!"

b. Hussein: "Gibbsy: One of these days, I’m going to have to buy you your own teleprompter. Yuck. Yuck. Yuck."

The rest of the gang in the room laughs politely, many forcing smiles so big they resemble House Speaker Nancy Pelosi…or the Joker.

Rahmbo: "Um, sir? If I might interject…I believe it’s time we start implementing, well, to coin a phrase, the hit squad."

b. Hussein: "The hit squad, Rahmbo? What in God’s name?…oh…I forgot…we don’t use that name here anymore…hey, wasn’t it pretty cool that no one in the mainstream media reported that we had Georgetown cover up Jesus when we did the speech there on Tuesday? What was I saying…oh…yeah…ahh…ahh…the hit squads. What on earth are you talking about, Rahmbo?"

Rahmbo: "Like moveon.org, sir. We need hit squads. To take down the tea partiers. Where they live. It’s only going to get worse, sir."

b. Hussein: "Couldn’t you just, you know, break another finger off in one of their eyes and send a message?"

Rahmbo: "Um…no sir. It’s that bad."

The Bitch: "Bring in the Fembots!"

b. Hussein picks up his straw and snorts two more lines of shredded cash and buries his head in his hands and says: "Oh, dear!"

Teleprompter, his power relay fully charged, suddenly awakens and shudders and starts to lurch across the room toward the president.

b. Hussein: "What in God’s name…DAMN!…I did it again!"

Teleprompter flashes words across his screen: "DANGER BARACK OBAMA! DANGER!"

Sixpack: "Hey! Anybody got that beer? I’m pretty dry over here. Hey! Hilary…bring me a beer!"

Teleprompter, excited to the point that his circuits start steaming, reaches the president and flashes this strange message, again and again and again:

sniaG nacilbupeR 0102
sesoL amabO 2102
sniaG nacilbupeR 0102
sesoL amabO 2102
!sniaG nacilbupeR 0102
!sesoL amabO 2102

b. Hussein: "What the…? Oh, dear." He finally understands.

Rahmbo, understanding too: "Shall I have them hit, sir?"

Gibbsy: "Ahhh….ahhh…ahhh...sarsaparilla!"

Geithner: "Dude! I saw that movie!"

Sixpack: "HerE’S, JOEY!"

Hilary: "You know, this reminds me of the time, back in Arkansas, when my husband first confided in me that it was okay to start telling everyone I was really a man….hahahahahahahahahahahaha!"

I left them there, ignoring the overwhelming desire to chomp on the president’s ear. I could still hear them, as the door closed behind me, cackling away, braying like ninnies, confused and befuddled and lost, as if they were trying to figure out an end to the recession, or what to order for dinner from the Chinese place down the street, the realization they’d awakened something genuine they couldn’t possibly stop warming me from the inside.

And still, in the background, I could hear:

b. Hussein: "Um…Sixpack…while we wait…you think you can show me how you do lines of shredded cash with your butt again? That’s the funniest damned thing I’ve ever seen! Except for Joe Biden sober!"

DISCLAIMER: No employees of Fox News, nor anyone affiliated with said cable television network, had anything to do with the writing of this satire. I'm Dr. Dave ADHD, and I approve this message.

R-rated version cross-posted with little reason or sanity at Feed Your ADHD.