Happy happy Christmas week, you elf-fellating scum! Yes, it’s time for the Season of Lying to Children about the existence of any one of a number of Magical Miracle Men. To truly get in the Christmas spirit, I suggest you cut down a Druid’s tree, set a sacred pagan grove on fire, and start an apocalyptic desert cult that grows into the world’s oldest and largest child-fuckery concern. Make it an LLC, or pretend it is “nonprofit,” whichever suits your tastes! And now, on to the worship of the One True God, Barack Hussein Obama.
On Friday, the preznit went to an elementary school in Arlington, Virginia. The tiny rich imps squealed and shrieked, and then the prezzydent read from “Of Thee I Sing,” the Creative Memories (TM) scrapbook he put together between sponge-painting the front bathroom (the one with the seashell theme!) and having the girls over for Bunco. Then he moved on to “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas” and oh, it was so cute. When the children yelled, “Encore! Encore! Encore!” he pretended to walk out of the library, then smiled winningly, bounded back onto the carpet, and totally wailed on a killer 8-minute version of “My Pet Goat.” (Haha, it is really called “The Pet Goat,” did you know this?) After that, he paused while Michelle Obama appeared, leaned down, and whispered in his ear, “I am gonna blow those two big black symbols of American excess UP tonight.” This is what the Obamas talk about when they talk about Barack’s balls, and the oral sex that will temporarily empty them of some of their contents. Never forget.
After that, he met with some people who know a bunch about labor, not like the kind where your wife shot your screaming, wet, red, ugly, improbably-stupid varmint out her pussy (yeah right, she totally had an elective C-section with a tummy tuck), but the kind where people work. Did you know that Hilda Solis, Secretary of Labor, is really pretty? She is. I hope I look that pretty when I am older and also a Secretary of Labor.
Christmas miracle alert! At about 1:19, you get to see the back of Deputy Director of Oval Office Operations Brian Mosteller, who is my own true love and who has been mentioned countless times in this very space. What are you doing New Year’s Eve, Brian? The answer could quite possibly be “me,” not as in you, but as in ME. Email firstname.lastname@example.org for further information.
On Monday, the president signed the Child Abuse Prevention and Treatment Act, taking all the fun out of having kids.
On Tuesday, Barry ran into Secretary of Commerce Gary Locke. Everybody in D.C. knows Gary is good for one thing and one thing only, so Bammerz whispered, “Yo, you holding?” “You know it,” Gary said, and that’s how Barry scored a hot copy of the 2010 U.S. Census Report. It said that the browns will murder us all in our sleep sooner or later, and that Nat Turner will be elected King. But you knew that. This was therefore a good day for the prazzledent to meet with the Congressional Hispanic Caucus. High-fives all around!
On Wednesday, something beautiful happened. Here is some shit that actually made me cry, for realz. Watch from about 3:09 on to 3:50 and if you like homos (I do) and/or sometimes are one (I am, 35% of the time) then I dare you not to feel a wee bit emotional. Watch Barney Frank cry at 3:40! Sure, our military industrial complex is Mostly Evil, but isn’t it nice that the faggers and dykelings can be a part of it if they want to? Yes, yes it is.
On Thursday, Barry flew away to the Sovereign Nation of Hawai’i, where he is Coconut King, to lick Tom Selleck’s mustache or something.
And that’s about it for this week. Merry Christmas to all you fuckers, and to all a good fucking night!
Sara Benincasa will be distributing special presents to all imps and faggers and dykelings and prazzledents tonight. Act like you are not awake, probably!