Oh, hello there, filthy Wonkette freaklings. I didn’t know today was the Skank Parade! Aren’t you cute, with your sallow whorefaces and your characteristic odor of rot? I suppose you’ve come to this space in search of your weekly dose of breathless celebrity reportage about a man who is greater in body, mind and spirit than you can even contemplate. Well, ye shall have it, though ye deserveth it not. It’s time for another edition of “Barry, Can You Hear Me?” As usual, we’ll rely on White House Videographer Arun Chaudhary’s Frederick Wiseman-esque groundbreaking documentary series, “West Wing Week,” to guide our journey.
On Friday, Barack Obama greeted former Secretary of State Condalengua Ross at the White House for, I don’t know, a stop on her book tour? The video is sort of cute, because he apologizes to her for all the security stuff and she goes, “Mr. President, you do not have to apologize!” and he’s all, “You’ve been through the drill.” and everyone has a nice laugh. Then these two brilliant black humans went into the Oval Office and shut the door and had themselves a great, hearty, long laugh tinged with unmistakable evil. “We run this shit!” Barack chortled, because this is how all black Americans talk, according to Comedy. Constance Linguist-Rolf, who does not curse, smiled demurely and said something guttural in her native Russian.
As usual, Arun tells us nothing of the President’s weekend. We can assume that the hooker-fucking and subsequent cocaine-overdosing proceeded apace.
On Monday, the White House had itself a Science Faire, which is like a Renaissance Faire but with batteries. The event was subtitled, “Keeping Up With The Chingity Chong Chongs, Cursed Be Their Name” and involved a lot of casual racism in the name of “satire.” And HOLY SHIT, Bill Nye was there! Where the fuck was Beakman? The answer is: performing Cunnilingus Rice on every lady Democrat in the House. Also, the science dorks sitting behind Barry at the big event were weirdly hot. Like, really super-hot. Go check it out at like 1:40. I’m sure they’re all 18.
On Tuesday, the racists on the White House Photo-Op Committee had a goddamned mariachi band up in the joint to celebrate Obama signing an executive order to improve educational shit for Latinos, like they even have school in the burrito fields. Then he pronounced “Latino” in the adorable way he does, and every woman within 300 miles instantly got pregnant.
On Wednesday, he flew to the West Coast to tell people, “Oh hey, please still vote for the Democrats, thanks.” That was pretty much it for Hump Day. It is possible that he stopped in Portland to visit one of Al Gore’s alleged favorite masseuses, but probably he just got a giant cookie at Powells Books and, like, read The Four Agreements. Honestly, I don’t even know if he stopped in Portland. He has definitely read The Four Agreements.
On Thursday, Barack performed yet another home invasion in the backyard of photogenic white people. He talked about women and the economy, as if one had anything to do with the other. This all happened in Seattle, so everyone drank great coffee and then an already-legendary young musician shot himself in the fucking head, for old time’s sake.
That’s it for now. I shan’t be writing this here column next week, for I shall be on assignment for my other “job” in Washington, D.C., where some of the higher-ups from work are throwing a giant party at a mall. But more importantly, I am doing yet another live comedy/theatrics programme, on Thursday, October 28th at the D.C. Arts Center at 7:30 PM. I may or may not be wearing this fine piece of Wonkette apparel. Now go gentle into that good night, dear Wonketteers, and beat off to the thought of Sharron Angle’s acceptance speech on November 2nd. Maybe listen to Enya, while you do this, just because.