In My World: Stopping the Oil Leak

“I’m here to stop the oil leak!” President Obama announced as he approached the oil-soaked beach.

“Oh,” the BP official said, “I didn’t think you were going to help.”

“I have been helping,” Obama said, “I’ve been yelling at you to do better. That’s a sort of helping. But then I thought of a way to stop the oil leak for good. Know what that method is?”

“Well… I guess we could–”

“Science!” Obama shouted gleefully. “I thought maybe we could use Science! to stop it.”

“Actually, we’ve been using–”

“I got all the best scientific minds together,” Obama continued, “and they were like, ‘Stop bothering us, Obama!’ Then they made fun of my ears. They were mean scientists and I don’t like them anymore. But in the end, Professor Science! agreed to come and use Science! to stop the oil leak.”

A man in an impressive white lab coat holding a test tube approached the shore. “It is I: Professor Science!, and I will stop this leak using… Science!”

“Yay!” Obama exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly.

“Now stand back, laymen,” Professor Science! said. “Make room for… Science!” Professor Science! approached the shore and held his test tube high. “By the power of Science!, I command the leak to stop!”

Everyone was silent for a few moments, waiting to see if anything happened. “Did it work?” Obama finally asked.

“The Science! on whether an oil leak is slowing is… complicated,” Professor Science! said, “but I think it’s… um… yeah, it’s slowing.”

“Yay for Science!” Obama shouted. “Well, I guess we’re done here. I’m going to go to Arizona now and yell at them for being racist.” He started heading away with Professor Science, telling him, “I read that it was racist on the internet.”

“The internet was made with Science!”


Alone on the shore, the BP official bowed his head. “I wish I thought of using Science!.”

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In My World: Ticking Time Bomb

This blog post was written in real time.

Barack Obama walked into the Oval office and turned on the lights. He then heard the door slam behind him. He turned around to see a grizzled-looking man. “Who are you?”

“Mr. President, I am former CTU agent Jack Bauer.”

“Oh, thank me,” Obama sighed. “I thought you were a teabagger.”

“I’m here to tell you about a grave threat to this country.”

“Why did you have to sneak in like this? Couldn’t you have gone through official channels?”

“Sir, I didn’t have time.”

“Couldn’t you have texted me?”

“I didn’t have time — I’m really bad at texting. Takes me like ten minutes for a simple reply.”

“Then how do you update your Twitter feed?”

“Sir, we’re getting off topic. There is a threat to this nation from either nuclear or biological weapons… or possibly biological weapons that are radioactive.”

Obama gasped. “That sounds bad!”

“It is very bad, sir.”

“Any idea where this attack might take place?”

“Usually, terrorist attacks occur in the LA area, but that’s started to change in the past few years.”

Obama shook his head. “I don’t like going to LA; I always get attacked by cougars there.”

“I am not surprised. Anyway, to find the details on this attack, I need to use harsh interrogation techniques against a known terrorist we’ve detained. I wanted to get your permission for that.”

Obama thought for a moment. “Alright. If the situation is that dire, I’ll allow you to loudly shout at him.”

“Sir, this will take more than shouting.”

“You want to slap his belly? I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”

“I was thinking of a lot more than belly slapping.”

“If you’re suggesting waterboarding, there is no way I’m approving that.”

“Sir, I warm up with waterboarding.”

Obama frowned. “Torture is wrong; you are a bad man. This is why people like me hate America.”

“Sir, I know there is a lot of pressure on you as this nation’s third black president — and the first who isn’t a Palmer — and it has to be scary knowing the last half-dozen presidents all ended up either dead or in prison…”

“I’m hoping for prison!”

“We all are. Anyway, I know there must be a lot of pressure on you, and this must offend your sensibilities, but there is literally a ticking time bomb out there–”

“I would think time bombs these days would use digital timers.”

“Excuse me?”

“They would use digital timers, so there wouldn’t be any ticking. Thus you used the word ‘literally’ incorrectly. I’m very smart.”

“Sir, once again, I think you’re focusing on the wrong things. Tens of thousands of people could die unless I get the information out of that terrorist.”

“Well, Jack, tens of thousands of people die from car accidents each year, so I don’t know why you want me to get all worked up over that. Here’s what I’ll do, though. I’ll release a bunch of prisoners from Gitmo, and we’ll see if that will impress the terrorist enough to talk.”

“This is a man who thinks nothing of murdering children; I sincerely doubt he’ll talk out of the goodness of his heart.”

Obama rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know; you red-staters just want to hurt all the bad men and think that solves everything. Instead of torturing, though, have you ever tried to be his friend? Maybe give him a hug?”

“A hug will not do anything, sir.”

“Maybe you’re hugging wrong. Here, give me a hug so I can see how you’re doing it.”

“Mr. President, I never put my arms around another man without him ending up dead afterward.”

“I don’t think this conversation is going anywhere. Here’s what I’ll do for you, Jack: I’ll try to make sure you have a fair trial for even suggesting torture. I’ll probably have to make an example out of you, though; I don’t want the rest of the world thinking we let people like you still run around.”

The door opened and Joe Biden walked in. “Hey, I just wanted to–”

Bauer immediately got Biden in a choke hold and choked him unconscious.

“Hey! That was the vice president! And the doctors have already been saying he’s not getting enough oxygen to his brain!”

“I’m well aware of who he is, sir; I just didn’t have time to explain things to him.”

“What’s it with you and not having enough time? Sounds like you just need better time management.”

“I’ll take that under advisement. Anyway, I guess I’ll just have to pursue this without your permission. Before I go, though, I want to warn you that I think there is a mole in your administration undermining you from the inside.”

“Really? I thought that was just incompetence.”

Bauer thought about that. “Yeah, I guess that is the more likely explanation.”

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In My World: Not Smart Honky

President Obama stood before the press next to Senator Reid. “I want you to know that I fully forgive Reid for his remarks about my skin color and black dialect–”

“‘Negro’ dialect,” Reid corrected.

“Yes, that. Anyway, he is forgiven and we can get away from this distraction to the important business of the American people.”

Obama and Reid then headed into the White House. As soon as they were inside and the doors were closed, Obama started violently smacking Reid about the head. “Dumb honky!”

“Ahh! Why are you so angry?!” Reid cried. “Was your welfare check late?”

Obama smacked Reid even harder. “For the last time, it’s a government paycheck, not a welfare check! Dumb honky! Now get out of here!”

Reid started to flee for the door, but stopped just before leaving and quickly pulled his wallet out of his suit jacket and then put it back.

Obama ran over and started smacking him again. “Did you just check whether your wallet was still there? Dumb honky! Every time I try to do anything, there always has to be honkies ruining it!”

Reid kept trying to cover his head. “This is why I’m scared of black people!”

Obama kept smacking him. “You only think you’re scared! I will make you scared! Now get out of here!”

Reid got out the door and ran off. Then Vice President Biden entered the room. “Mr. President, we need–”

Obama ran over and started smacking Biden. “Dumb honky!”

“What did I say?!”

Obama kept smacking him. “Nothing yet, but knowing you, you were about to so I decided I might as well get started.”

“You’re crazier than a yellow chinaman!”


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In My World: Obama’s Priorities

“I’ve called this 568th prime time address of my presidency because I think there are some important things I still need to explain to you, the American people. Job losses continue, and unemployment stays at 10%. Also, it appears that terrorism remains a grave concern. I know all of you want me to focus completely on these issues, but let me be clear: This isn’t about you.

“Who was elected president? That’s right: I was. Me. Me me me me me. Ego — that’s Latin for ‘I’. That’s why we’re focusing on things I care about like big social programs like health care and environmental issues like cap & trade. I tried to tie those into the issues you care about claiming they’ll help the economy and create jobs, but I know none of us really believe that so I’m just going to stop with that. Instead, I’m going to be frank with you and say that I don’t care about the economy and I don’t care about terrorism.

“Terrorism and job losses are hold over from the Bush years. If you have a problem with them, go ask him to solve them… or Cheney — he still seems to care. I don’t. I never did. For one thing, unemployment is carbon neutral; why would I want to harm the environment by seeing people go back to work? And I don’t even believe in terrorism; I think that’s just something Bush, Cheney, and Haliburton made up. This whole ‘Islamic extremism’ thing just doesn’t seem real. Have you even read the Quran? It looks pretty made up. So I don’t know why you expect me to do something about this made up problem. I thought I made it pretty clear I don’t care about it at all when I appointed Janet Napalitano as Secretary of Homeland Security.

“So, in conclusion, shut up shut up shut up. Stop bothering me with your stupid problems. I don’t care. I have my progressive agenda to do, and that’s what I’m doing. And stop making fun of me because I walked into a window the other day. Everyone is saying I don’t know the difference between a door and a window and I’m stupid, but that is false. I just couldn’t see clearly because I had a bucket stuck on my head, so you’re the stupid ones.

“Thank you.”

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In My World: Negotiation with Iran

President Obama approached Ahmadinejad. “Thank you for agreeing to meet and talk with me.” He then bowed to him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ahmadinejad asked.

“I’m… uh…”

“Have some self respect, man!”

Obama stood back up. “I got you an iPod.”

Ahmadinejad grabbed it greedily. “Neato.”

“It’s got my speeches on it.”

Ahmadinejad hit some buttons on it. “I already deleted them. I got you this.” He handed Obama a little bag.

Obama looked it over. “A bag of rubber bands. Uh… thanks.”

They sat down at at the meeting table. “I just want to say how much more I like you than Bush,” Ahmadinejad said. “That guy was an idiot.”

“And I apologize for him and for my country. You don’t have to worry about that thuggishness anymore, though.”

“I’m glad to hear it. You are a very good man, Obama.”

He smiled. “Thanks. Anyway, I guess I should get right to it. Since we’re in a new era and can trust each other, could you do me a solid and not make nuclear weapons?”

Ahmadinejad was silent for a a while, thinking it over. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to say no.”


“The answer is no. I’ve already told everybody I’m going to make nuclear weapons, and I don’t want to be a liar. You understand, right?”

“I guess…”

“And North Korea is working on them, and that guy there is a poofter. If he gets nuclear missiles and I don’t, what will people think of me. It’s an appearances thing you see.”

Obama nodded. “Well, I guess it’s not too bad if it’s just for appearances. Could you at least promise me you won’t use them on Israel?”

Ahmadinejad consider it for a few seconds. “I’m going to have to pass on that.”

“It’s just that…”

“We’re kinda getting into private Iranian affairs here,” Ahmadinejad explained. “I like you and everything, but this really isn’t your business.”

“Okay, I see. Could I at least come away from this meeting with your personal guarantee you won’t use nuclear weapons on America?”

Ahmadinejad thought about that for a few moments. “We’ll consider it. I’ll talk about it with the others, and… well, we’ll see.”

“Thanks… I guess. I think we made some progress. It was great talking to you.”

“And I have to say once again how grateful I am that America elected you and got rid of stupid Bush. I like you much better. All the world leaders agree.”

“Glad to hear it.” Obama stood up and offered his hand to Ahmadinejad.

“Eh… I don’t want to touch you.”

“Uh… okay.” Obama turned to leave and looked out the window. “Where did my car go?”

“We liked it so we took it,” Ahmadinejad said. “You can walk back.”

“You took my car?”

“It’s just how things are here. No big deal. Have a nice walk.”

Obama headed out the door and turned to his Secret Service agent. “I think that went well. World leaders certainly respect me.”

“I’m not your friend; don’t talk to me.”

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In My World: Doing a Lot and Doing It Poorly

Rahm Emanuel entered the Oval Office. “You might want to take things a little slower, Obama.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing!” President Obama shouted.

“Well, the stock market is diving every time you speak, and it’s not like your meeting with the Prime Minister of Britain went well.”

* * * *

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, President Obama,” Gordon Brown said as he entered the Oval Office.

“It is a pleasure to meet me,” Obama said very matter of factly. “Everyone wants to meet me. I’m very popular.”

“Yes, well, I wanted to give you these gifts as an offer of friendship. Here is a pen holder carved from the wood of the sister ship of from which your desk is made.”

“A wooden pen holder?” Obama said angrily. “I can hold my own pens! I’m a genius!”

Brown was a bit taken aback. “Yes… well… Here is a seven volume biography of Winston Churchill.”

Obama scrunched his face. “I don’t know who that is or why I should care about him. Anyway, I guess I should give you something…” Obama rummaged through a desk drawer. “Here are twenty-five classic American movies.”

Brown looked through them. “Deuce Bigalow? Naked Gun 33 and a 1/3? These are from the bargain bin at Wal-Mart… and there is only seven of them.”

“Hey! At least one of those is a Must Love Dogs/You’ve Got Mail double feature!”

“Oh, okay…”

“You’re ungrateful!” Obama screamed. “You’ve met the one and only Obama and you’re ungrateful!”

“No, I’m very thankful…”

“I declare war on you! War! WAAAAAR!”

“Please… don’t… I… um… Are you… high?”

* * * *

“We’re you?” Rahm asked.

Obama stared down at his desk and didn’t answer.

“Could you stop snorting coke long enough to answer me!”

“Hey! I’m just doing enough to take the edge off. And I don’t think I did as bad at foreign affairs as Hillary who’s supposed to be so much more experienced!”

* * * *

“Here’s is a reset button to reset the American-Russian relationship.” Hillary handed Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov a red button on a yellow box.

“Um… it doesn’t say reset.”

“Yes it does,” Hillary stated. “My people are very smart and that’s the Russian word they came up with for reset.”

“I know Russian and it doesn’t say reset.”

“It says reset!” Hillary snapped.

“I’m a native speaker of Russian, and–”

Hillary leaped at him and grabbed his throat. “How dare you contradict me! How about I push a big red button and reset your whole @#$% country!”

* * * *

“At least Gibbs explained things to the press very nicely,” Obama said.

“He’s ended his last three press conferences curled in a ball, crying, and wetting himself.”

“That’s Gibbs!” Obama chuckled. “Anyway, I have a new list of enemies I want him to call out. I was looking through some blogs and blog comments, and I wrote down everyone who criticized me. I want him to personally name them and call them traitors. I’ll teach CoolDude447 to call me ‘teh ghey’!”

“I’m not really sure we should be spending time on that,” Rahm said.

“If other things need to get done, can’t you have my vice president what’s-his-name handle it?”

“Biden barely has enough brain power to remember to breathe on a regular basis.”

“Whatever. Soon my troubles with my enemies will be over. I even have troops looking for Rush Limbaugh right now in the mountains on the border of Pakistan.”

“Um… they’re not looking for Limbaugh.”

“But I thought I heard they were looking for America’s number one enemy?”

“They’re looking for Osama,” Rahm explained, “and we’ve had trouble retasking them to anything else.”

* * * *

Buck the Marine got a call on his radio. “Buck here.”

“Buck, you have an order from Obama.”

“I’m already looking for Osama,” Buck answered.

“No, it’s an order from Obama.”

“I don’t take orders from terrorists.”

“No, Obama, in D.C.”

“Osama is in Washington D.C.! He must be up to something big!”

“No, President Obama.”

“Osama has taken over the country and declared himself leader?” Buck exclaimed. “Don’t worry; I’ll lead the resistance from the outside the country.”

“Yeah… um… you do that.”

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In My World: First Business

“Yay! I’m president now! Time to get to work!” Obama scampered to his desk. “Time to do something about babies! I hate them!”

Rahm Emanuel walked over to Obama with a form. “You said you’d first sign a form closing Gitmo.”

“Fine.” Obama grabbed the form and signed it.

“Uh… You signed it ‘Osama’.”

“Dammit! Not again!” Obama crossed it out and signed it again. “There! Done! Now get me something to sign to help eliminate babies!”

“You really should be focusing on the economy or the war,” Rahm said.

“I don’t care about those! I want to stop babies right now! I hate them so much!”

The phone rang and Obama answered, “Hi, it’s me the president, Obama.”

“It’s Robert Gates. I just want you to know we’ve located some high priority targets.”

“If they’re babies, you have authorization for lethal force!”

“So why do you hate babies so much?” Rahm asked.

“They are a punishment!” Obama shouted. “People adore them when they should be adoring me! They should be telling me how cute I am! I want them gone!”

Rahm handed him another form. “Here, you can sign this and you can lift restrictions on funding international aid groups that fund abortion.”

“Yes!” Obama eagerly signed it. “Take that, babies!”

“Uh… you signed it Osama again.”

“Dammit! Can’t we just make it a legal alias? We’ll save time that way.”

“The press is here to see you,” said a voice over the intercom.

The press entered the Oval Office. “It’s so great to see you, President Obama!” they exclaimed. “You’re the greatest!”

“Thanks!” Obama said. “Do you have any questions?”

“No! We wouldn’t dare question you. We just wanted to tell you how great you are!” The press then left the office.

Obama smiled. “I like the media.”

Biden came into the office. “So anything you need me to do?”

“I need you to stay out of the way and shut your stupid mouth!” Obama shouted. “And your wife’s mouth too! If some cracker assassinates me, you’ll get a call. Until then, I don’t want to hear or see you!”

“You got it,” Biden said as he left.

“That’s talking!” Obama yelled. He turned to Rahm. “That guy is trouble. If he gets too much exposure, he could let out my terrible secret: I’m afraid of black people. Like every time I hug my kids, I instinctively check my wallet.”

“What about your wife?”

“I don’t hug her; that’s why we have that fist bump thing.”

A mustachioed man entered the office. “I’m ready to get to work.”

“Who’s that?” Rahm asked Obama.

“That’s my new consultant I hired: Rarl Kove.”

Rahm looked at him suspiciously. “Okay. I guess I’ll leave you two.” He left the office.

Kove walked over to Obama and whispered, “You know, there is something about that guy I just don’t trust.”

“Yeah, he is kinda weasely. Plus how can I trust someone with such a weird name: Rahm.”

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In My World: Welcome the New

“I think I’ve been a pretty good president,” Former President Bush said.

“I don’t know where you’d get that impression,” Cheney grumbled.

“In a hundred years from now, I think people will look back on me as a success,” Bush said.

“The country won’t exist a hundred years from now and you’ll be forgotten.”

“The American people are going to miss me soon.”

“The American people are going to be too busy with a depression to miss anything.”

“I’m president now!” President Obama said as he popped in to the Oval Office.

“Yes, we know Obama,” Bush said. “I just wanted to go over last minute things with you.”

“I’m smart. People elected me because I’m smart,” Obama proclaimed.

“Yes, we know you’re smart, Obama. You keep telling us that.”

Obama scampered across the room. “What’s this?”

“That’s your desk, Obama. That’s where you make decisions.”

“What’s this?”

“That’s a pen, Obama.”

He grabbed the pen greedily. “It’s my pen. I’m the president.”

“Yes, we know, Obama.”

“What’s this?”

“That the self-destruct button for the world. You don’t want to touch that.”

Obama reached for it. “It’s pretty.”

Bush slapped his hand. “No, Obama. Bad president. Don’t touch that.”

“What’s this?”

“That’s a bucket, Obama. I used it for spitting in.”

“I bet my head could fit inside it!”

“I don’t know about that, Obama…”

Obama picked up the bucket and placed it on his head. He then tried to take it off but it wouldn’t budge. “I can’t see!”

“That’s because you have a bucket stuck on your head, Obama.”

“Mah! Bad bucket!” Obama yelled, trying to pull it off as he ran around in a panic. He then accidentally tripped and went out the window.

Cheney leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, we’re in good hands. I don’t know why we were worrying.”

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In My World: Blocking the Senate Doors

Harry Reid sat in his office and smiled. “Having gotten rid of the only black senator by electing him president, the Senate will be racially pure once again.”

Reid’s aide rushed into the office. “Blagojevich has appointed Roland Burris — a black man — to Obama’s seat!”

Reid shot to his feet. “What! But I thought we successfully destroyed him when we framed him for corruption once we were first found out he was thinking of appointing a black man! The racial purity of the Senate must be protected!”

Al Franken shoved the aide out of the way. “You said when I take my seat, you’d have all the black people gone! I’ll hurt you! Grwaerree!” He came at Reid flailing his arms.

Reid shielded himself. “Calm down, Al Franken! Don’t hurt me! By the time you take your seat, we’ll have this taken care of!”

Franken calmed down a bit. “You better, or me hurt you!” He spotted a piece of paper on the ground. “That’s a vote for me!”

Reid looked at it. “That’s a receipt from Taco Bell.”

“It’s a vote for me! Me hurt you you say otherwise! Grwaerree!” He charged at Reid, flailing his arms again.

“Calm down, Franken! You’re deranged!”

“Don’t call me deranged or I’ll bite you in the eyeball! Grwaerree!”

* * * *

“I don’t know if we should antagonize the white man like this,” Bobby Rush said to Roland Burris. “It will only make things worse.”

“We have to stand up,” Burris said. “Maybe now that a black man is about to be president, we can finally have a black person in the Senate… like there was a couple days ago. That’s a dream of mine I cannot let go.”

“I dunno. The white people are going to hurt us!”

Burris walked towards the Capitol, but blocking the entrance was Harry Reid. “What are you doing here, African American?”

Burris walked right up to him. “Hey! That’s a term we use to call each other; you can’t call us that!”

“Why? What are you going to do, African American,” Reid sneered. “I’ve worked tirelessly to make the Senate racially pure. Tossing out Barack Obama to the presidency to further that goal wasn’t easy, but now I’m not going to let some uppity African American ruin that!”

“I’ve always been humble,” Burris said, “it even says so on my monument I made — but people must stand up to bigotry.”

“And do what?”

Burris looked at the Senate thugs Reid had brought with him. “I guess you win for now, but don’t think this is over. The fight for racial equality will continue!” Burris marched away.

“Not while I’m alive!” Reid pumped his fist in the air and chanted with the crowd. “Democrat power! Democrat power!”

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In My World: The Lone Shoeman

“It is a time for rebuilding,” President Bush told the Iraqi press. “It is a time for–” A shoe struck Bush in the head. “Ow! What the hell just happened?”

“Oh no!” Maliki exclaimed. “Shoe is grave insult since it rhymes with joo!”

“What kind of dumb baby throws a shoe?” Bush rubbed his forehead. “In America, we express disapproval in a much more civilized manner… such as waving signs while screeching like howler monkeys being slaughtered alive.”

Another shoe flew forward and hit Bush. “Ow! What the frick?”

“You are imperialist pig dog!” the shoe-thrower yelled. “I hate all of America… except Barack Obama. He seems nice.”

“That’s it!” Bush exclaimed. “I’m going to show him what we consider to be a grave insult in America! Hold him down while I urinate on his face!”

* * * *

Bush sat down at his desk in the Oval Office. “It’s nice to be back home where people keep their shoes on their feet. Also, less Muslims.”

Oliver Stone came into the office. “I had a meeting with you.”

“Aren’t you that guy who made a movie about me?” Bush asked. “One I was pretty sure was making fun of me… except I didn’t see it because it didn’t look that interesting.”

“No one saw it,” Stone said, “but I want to make a new movie. I want to buy the movie rights to the shoe throwing incident.”


Stone leaned in close and whispered, “There was more than one shoe-thrower.”

Bush looked shocked. “It was just that guy Muntader al-Zaidi who threw the shoes.”

“That’s what the government wants you to think!” Stone took a photograph out of a folder. “The first shoe was indisputably a right foot shoe, correct?”

“Yeah! It hit me in the head.”

“I had a photo blown up of the second shoe flying through the air, though.” Stone laid down the photo in front of Bush. “Look at the curvature on it. It’s clearly also a right foot shoe. That means the shoes couldn’t have come from one person!”

“Holy crap! But who would put out this lie about the lone shoe-thrower?”

Stone stared at Bush intensely. “The CIA.”

Bush frowned. “I know they didn’t like what they got for funding this last fiscal year, but getting shoes thrown at me seems a little much.”

“We’re going to expose this!” Stone said. “Just let me make the movie.”

Bush was unconvinced. “You’re not going to have Josh Brolin play me again, are you?”

“No. It’s going to be a chimp on a unicycle.”

Dick Cheney entered the office. Bush turned to him and said excitedly. “The shoes getting thrown at me was a conspiracy and a chimp is going to play me in the movie of it. Everyone likes chimps.”

Cheney walked over, picked up Stone, and threw him out the window.

“You threw Oliver Stone out the window!” Bush shouted.

“That’s who that was? I thought he looked familiar.”

“You know, the Secret Service said if people keep falling out that window, they’re going to put bars on it.”

Cheney shrugged. “Whatever. We’re almost done here.”

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In My World: Illegal Aliens

President Bush eagerly watched out the window as his limousine headed out into the desert. “Isn’t this exciting?”

Vice President Cheney shrugged his shoulders. “Meh.”

“Come on! Aliens have landed and they want to talk to me! I’m going to be the first president to make contact with aliens. That’s gotta be considered more exciting than being the first black president. I’ll bet I’ll be popular after this!”

“You might get a five point peaceful-contact-with-aliens bump in your approval rating.”

“Yee-haw! I can’t wait!”

The limousine came to a stop and Bush jumped out. In the desert had landed a giant flying saucer. A platform lowered from its center bringing three thin, gray being with large black eyes to the ground. “We wish to speak to the leader of Earth,” one said.

“That’s me… for about a month and a half more!” Bush called.

“We bring a message of peace,” the alien said.


“And we would also like to let your people know we are willing to do menial labor for below minimum wage.”

Bush’s face sunk. “Aww crap.”

* * * *

Bush sat around the oval office contemplating his situation. “If you have an economic crisis, space aliens landing and taking jobs probably ain’t going to help, is it?” he asked Cheney.

“Nope. You kinda brought this on yourself, you know.”

“I didn’t know our lax immigration laws were known throughout the galaxy! And if anything, this proves fences wouldn’t help.” Bush thought for a moment. “Unless they were really really tall. Hey, so how are my approval ratings doing?”

“Your approval rating is less than the margin of error. Basically what that’s saying is the people who said they approve of your job performance might not have understood the question.”

“Man! This just keeps getting worse! What can I do to convince the American people I’m not a total screw up and get my ratings up before I leave office? I mean, I didn’t let us get his by terrorists again.”

“Eh, no one cares.”

“Well, do you think wearing an important looking hat might help get people to respect me again?”

“Like with a big feather plume or something?”


Cheney thought about that. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll see if Obama has any ideas. He’s going to be president soon, so this will be his mess.” He picked up the phone and called Obama. “Hey, Barry, it’s Dubya. I was wondering if you or your staff has any ideas what to do about the space aliens.”

“Yes, we have many excellent plans of what to do about that problem.”

“Like what?”

“I’d rather keep them to myself until I’m ready to implement them.”

“Could you give me a hint, though?”

“No, but they are super-smart plans that will solve everything.”

“I don’t think you actually have any plans.”

“I have many plans. In fact, I have more plans than I need and actually tossed out some perfectly good plans to make room for better plans.”

“You’re dumb and stupid and you don’t have any plans!” Bush hung up the phone and looked to Cheney. “I like that guy; he’s smart.”

Bush’s intercom buzzed. “Someone with a mustache is here to see you,” Bush’s secretary said.

“Is he gay or Mexican?”

“He’s openly Mexican.”

“Okay, send him in.” Bush looked to Cheney. “You have to be careful; gays have been really violent lately.”

Juan Hernandez came into the room. “We have a problem we need to talk about, Mr. President.”

“Wow, you have a smile that makes me not want to trust anything you say,” Bush remarked.

“Yes, I am often told this. Anyway, these illegal aliens from space are unacceptable! They are taking jobs from hard working earthling illegal aliens!”

“You know, technically no one is supposed to be crossing our border to do work.”

“Don’t speak to me of such nonsense!” Juan said. “You need to do something about the illegal space aliens!”

“Well, it’s not like I can deport them. They live in space, so that would cost like billion and billions and billions of dollars… if I knew where their home planet was. Plus, if I tell them to leave they could get angry, and they might have death rays and stuff.”

“Would you rather have space aliens shooting death rays at you or make the Mexicans angry?” Juan asked.

“I don’t want the Mexicans angry at me,” Bush said. “I guess I’ll talk to them.”

* * * *

Bush headed over to the space aliens who were hanging out in front of the Home Depot. “We need to talk.”

“Work has been good. People are turned off by our odd appearance, but they like how we speak English. Do you have work for me? I am particularly good at lawn care,” one of the aliens said. “Space travel is expensive; it has left us with no money so we need need the work. By the way, that is a very important hat you’re wearing.”

“Thanks.” Bush fiddled idly with the feather. “Anyway, the thing is…” Another spacecraft landed in the Home Depot parking lot. Out of it came some more gray aliens and also some Middle Eastern men. “Um… are those Arabs?”

“We had to make a stop in the Middle East and some people there wanted a ride into your country. I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

“See, I kinda mind. Do you have borders on your home planet?”

“Yes, we do.”

“And how would you feel if people ignored them?” Bush asked.

“That would be a grave insult. We would disintegrate the interlopers.”

“Okay… well, then maybe you see how you coming here to do work might be a problem.”

“We thought you didn’t mind,” the alien said. “We are only doing the work others won’t since we’re already doing it for cheaper.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to have to ask you to stop.”

“This angers us. You implicitly invited us with your lax immigration enforcement and then tell us to leave? For this, we may come back and conquer your planet and enslave your people.”

“Okay, just don’t do it until after January 20th so I don’t get blamed.”

The aliens got into their spaceships and flew away. Bush took out his cellphone and called Cheney. “So, how did it go?” Cheney asked.

“They were pretty reasonable. I got them to leave, but they may come back and conquer Earth.”

Cheney was silent for a moment. “Did you tell them about Halliburton in case they needed military contracts.”

Bush sighed. “No, Dick. No I didn’t.”

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In My World: New National Security Team

“Is my seal big enough?” Obama asked the press as he pointed to the big seal on the front of his podium. “Can you all tell I’m going to be the president?”

“We get it, Obama,” one of the press answered.

“Anyway, Biden and I are here to introduce our new national security team.”

“Hi, everybody. Good be here,” Biden said.

“I’m limiting him to five words per statement to try and limiting him saying anything embarrassing,” Obama explained.

Biden put his hand on Obama’s shoulder. “Clean and articulate, though black.”

“Are we supposed to know who that old white guy is?” one reporter whisper to another.

“I think he’s who Obama ran against.”

“The first cabinet position I will announce,” Obama said, “is my choice for Secretary of State: Hillary Clinton.”

Hillary Clinton stepped up to the podium. “It will be my pleasure to serve this administration, and I hope it will be a great success on the international stage. If it’s not, though, I plan to resign in a very public manner while blaming all of Obama’s failing on not listening to me.”

“Do you still plan to follow up on your vow to ‘swallow his soul’?”

“That’s a personal matter between me and him,” Hillary answered.

“At least we didn’t get another black person with a funny name,” Biden remarked. “‘Condoleeza’. Come on!”

“That’s more than five words, Biden.” Obama looked back to the press. “The next cabinet position I’m announcing is Secretary of Defense — Robert Gates.”

Robert Gates walked over to the podium. “Obama was unable to find any Democrat who didn’t vomit and wet himself at the thought of violence, so he asked if I’d stay at this job.”

“You promised change,” a reporter said to Obama, “but so far you’ve announce someone closely associated with the Clinton Administration and a Bush appointee. How is this change?”

“Let me be clear,” Obama said. “My promises of change during the campaign were empty words. Empty meaningless words I said to get stupid people excited about me and give me money — stupid, disgusting, dimwitted people who were easily manipulated by empty phrases.”

“Everyone here smells!” someone yelled. Everyone turned around to see an old man wandering around in bathrobe looking confused.

“Reid, I told you to stay in your office and get a nap!” Obama yelled. “Anyway, let’s continue. My choice for Attorney General is Eric Holder.”

Eric Holder walked to the podium. “With Elian Gonzales, you all saw how I don’t have a problem pointing a machine gun at a small child. Think of what I’ll do to criminals.”

“Probably nothing,” one reporter remarked.

“Who was that?” Holder shouted. “Was that FOX News? Someone point a machine gun at him!”

“Moving on,” Obama said, “My choice for Secretary of Homeland Security is Janet Napolitano. She lived in a border state.”

“So what are your qualifications to secure the United States?” a reporter asked Napolitano.

“I can see Mexico from my house!” Napolitano answered.

“Hey, you know how hard it is to find any Democrat who knows anything about security,” Obama explained, “and I needed at least one woman in my national security team.”

“What about Hillary?” a reporter asked.

“What about her? Anyway, the last position to announce is National Security Advisor, and I found like a Marine General for the position.”

James Jones the Marines took the podium. “I have never been around such a bunch of dickless sissies, and I have not stopped vomiting since agreeing to be a part of the Obama administration.”

Obama patted him on the back. “That’s part of the differing opinions I want to have in my cabinet.”

“Don’t touch me!” Jones snapped. “You’ll get gay on me!”

Obama chuckled. “So these are the people that when a crisis happens I’ll call them into my office and say to them, ‘I have no idea what’s happening! I’m in over my head! Someone please do something! For the love of all that’s good and decent, won’t someone qualified please do something!'”

“We won’t let you down!” Biden said.

“You’re not part of the team,” Obama replied. “I only said you could stand on stage in front of the press if you’d be relatively quiet.” He looked to Hillary. “And you — stop rubbing your hands together evilly. It’s freaking me out.”

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In My World: No Preconditions

“It’s good to finally meet with you,” Mahmoud Ahmadinejad said to President Obama, “and I am happy you didn’t insist on any preconditions. I just want to start these talks by saying there was no Holocaust.”

Obama sat there silently.

“Furthermore,” Ahmadinejad continued, “I will destroy Israel and dance around its stinking corpse!”

Obama said nothing.

“I also plan to obtain nuclear weapons and use them against the Jews. Or America. Maybe against Jewish Americans.”

Obama did not respond.

“By the way, in honor of your visit, we’re hanging a teenager for being a homosexual and stoning a woman for being raped. Then we’re throwing a small child into a pit of snakes for conspiring with the infidel Elmo.”

Obama continued to be silent, not even looking directly at Ahmadinejad but somewhat past him.

“I will destroy America!” Ahmadinejad shouted. “I will then dance around its stinking corpse which will be a much bigger stinking corpse than Israel’s — like a beached whale. And I will be able to destroy America because I have the power of Grayskull… I mean Allah!”

Obama said not a word.

Ahmadinejad shot to his feet. “I mock and deride America’s freedom! I spit on it, and I spit on you!” He spat on Obama.

Obama didn’t even move.

“I will destroy everything you hold dear. Freedom will be destroyed! I think so little of you and your country that I shall urinate upon you!” Ahmadinejad pulled down his pants and peed on Obama’s leg. “There! I am urinating on you and… Oh. I got a little on myself. This may have been a little overboard. Anyway, I have urinated mainly on you; do you have nothing to say?”

Obama had nothing to say.

“Furthermore…” Ahmadinejad grabbed one of Obama’s shoes and pulled it off. He then squatted over it. “I am now defecating in your shoe! This is how little I think of you and your country! Say something, fool! Say something now that I have pooed in your shoe!”

Obama finally looked directly at Ahmadinejad and motioned for him to come closer. When Ahmadinejad did, Obama whispered in his ear, “They’re still loading my teleprompter.”

Ahmadinejad looked around and then whispered back, “Well… how long will that take?”

“I don’t know. It seems to be malfunctioning. It could take a few minutes.”

Ahmadinejad thought for a moment and then whispered, “So what do we talk about until then?”

“Um… well… did you see Gossip Girl last night?”

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In My World: Testing the New President

Transcripts from the Oval Office during Obama’s first one hundred days.

AIDE: Syria is attacking Israel. You have to act now!

OBAMA: Just one moment; I’m checking the dimensions of this bucket… Ahh! My head is stuck in the bucket!

AIDE: We need a decision!

OBAMA: Who’s talking? I can’t hear or see; I have a bucket on my head!

* * * *

AIDE: Iran has nuclear weapons and are threatening to use them!

OBAMA: I don’t want to hear about it unless it’s about getting this bucket off my head.

AIDE: But sir, we need…

OBAMA: I’m going to try pounding it against a wall; maybe that will help.

* * * *

AIDE: Al Qaeda is attacking!

OBAMA: Who is attacking? I told you I have trouble hearing with this bucket on my head.

AIDE: Sir, maybe you should invoke Amendment 25 until you get the bucket off of your head.

OBAMA: There’s no need for that! I can handle many things at once. I am a very smart man. In fact, the only reason I have a bucket stuck on my head is my insatiable curiosity. Would you rather an incurious… Are you still here? Hello?

* * * *

AIDE: Russia is invading Georgia… and I don’t mean the country!

OBAMA: Not Russia! They’re going to make fun of me for having a bucket stuck on my head!

BIDEN: Don’t worry! I’m here to help!


BIDEN: Joe Biden.


BIDEN: Your Vice President. You selected me for my foreign policy experience.

OBAMA: I don’t remember that.

BIDEN: Well, I am very smart, and I know exactly what to do here… Ahh! Now my head is stuck in a bucket too!

OBAMA: Ow! Keep your bucket away from my bucket!

AIDE: (sigh) I’ll go tell Pelosi she is acting president.

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In My World: Super Mario Socialism

Mario, Princess Peach, and Luigi headed out of Mushroom Castle to go on a picnic. “What a beautiful day!” Princess Peach exclaimed.

“Itsa all right,” Mario said.

“O-oh no!” Luigi stammered, pointing to the horizon, “Itsa Bowser!”

Will Mario the Plumber be able to survive his most taxing adventure yet?

Flying over them was Bowser in his Koopa Clown Copter. Behind him were numerous flying Koopas, each carrying a large bag. “Muh ha ha ha ha!” Bowser bellowed. “We have all of your gold coins, Mario the Plumber!”

“What!?” Mario cried. “How did you breaka into my vault and geta my coins?”

“We didn’t have to break in,” Bowser said. “It’s our right to them since my good friend, Obama Koopa, has been elected President of Mushroom Kingdom.”

Little Obama Koopa popped up next to Bowser in the Clown Copter. “Hopenchange! Hopenchange!”

“This isa crazy!” Mario yelled. “How dida he get elected? Doesn’t everyone knows he pals around with Bomb-Ombs? And what does he want with all my gold coins? He canta roll them up to snorta the coke.”

“Obama Koopa has decided you have way too many gold coins for a plumber,” Bowser proclaimed, “so it’s time to redistribute your wealth. We’re going to give your coins to all the Goombas.”

“Those lazy bastards canta have my coins!” Mario cried. “I worked hard for those coins backa in old the days when a 1-Up actually meant something. Obama Koopa, how can you justify taking from me like this?”

“Hopenchange! Hopenchange!” Obama Koopa responded.

“What does that even mean? You turtle bastard! I will stomp on your head and kicka your shell all over town!”

Luigi tapped Mario on the shoulder. “You can’t say that. It’s racist.”

“How isa that racist?”

Luigi shrugged. “They said so in the media. I donta understand why, but they say itsa racist.”

Mario slapped him. “Shut upa! You’re useless!” He turned back to shake his fist at Bowser as he flew off with all of Mario’s coins. “I’ll breaka your neck for this!”

“At least I didn’t get kidnapped this time,” Princess Peach giggled.

“Shut upa, you stupid bitch!” Mario screamed. “I could be so lucky! They took all my gold coins! This isa serious this time! This willa destroy my plumbing business! I worka so hard on this. You probably don’t even remember when I started out knocking crabs upside down and kicking them before I wasa super.”

“Then again, you still never gotta your plumbing license,” Luigi said.

“How many times have I saved the Mushroom Kingdom!” Mario yelled. “What do I needa plumbing license for! And things certainly weren’t any easier having to drag a useless turd like you around.” Mario slapped Luigi. “Now shut upa! You’re useless!”

“I think you need to calm down,” Princess Peach said.

“They’re is no calming down until I getta my coins!” Mario screamed. “I think I’ll call my cousin Guido this time. We’ll show them!”

“But isn’t he in the mob?” Princess Peach asked.

“He’s a legitimate business man!” Mario answered angrily. “Why do you have to label every Italian-Mushroom Kingdonian as a criminal, you filthy racist whore! I outta slap you around like my useless brother!”

Princess Peach backed off and muttered under her breath, “Greasy wop midget.”

“What did you say!” Mario screamed.

Luigi jumped in between them. “Hey, Mario, we’re just all upset because of Bowser. Letsa not do anything stupid.”

Mario slapped Luigi. “Shut upa! You’re useless!”

Toad ran up to them carrying a gold coin. “Look what Obama Koopa gave me! Isn’t he the greatest?”

“Thatsa my coin!” Mario yelled. He then picked up a trash can and started slamming it into Toad.

“Please stop!” Toad pleaded. “I don’t even know what I did!”

Mario kept slamming the trash can into him. “I’m sorry, but your mercy is in another Italian plumber!”

Finally, Mario stopped and Toad lay still on the ground. “I thinka you killed him!” Luigi cried.

Mario spat on the ground. “I know I did.”

“What did you do, Mario!” Princess Peach yelled. “What did you do!”

“I gotta one of my coins back, that’s what I did!” He took the coin off of Toad. “Now we get the rest. I’m not going to let happen to my plumbing business what happened to my construction business. You remember that, Luigi?”

“You got shut down by the EPA.”

“When a gorilla throws a barrel at me,” Mario said, “I smash the barrel with a hammer; that’s my policy. I don’t got time to first fill out an environmental impact form. Would the government rather me jump over the barrel and let them run into the flaming oil can? Then they become one of those fire creatures; is that good for the environment? Plus, they move around erratically; I can’t jump over those! Do those bureaucrats know anything about business? Ita makes me so mad!” He slapped Luigi.

Luigi clutched his face. “What was that for?”

“For doing nothing, like usual! Now let’s getta those coins back! Get me my weapons!”

“But they took away your weapons,” Luigi said. “Now that Obama Koopa is in charge, civilian possession of bullet bills is illegal.”

“What!” Mario turned to Princess Peach. “You’re the princess; you do something!”

Princess Peach shrugged. “I’m really more of a figurehead. See, we have a bicameral legislature that meets–”

“I donta know what that means!” Mario screamed. “Shutta your mouth. You’re as useless as my brother!” He turned to Luigi. “Just get me my 150cc kart and we’ll go after them.”

“We can’t drive the kart anymore,” Luigi said. “It’s illegal unless you convert it to a hybrid.”

“Thatsa it!” Mario ran into Mushroom Castle and started rooting around in a trunk. “Here it is!” He pulled out a shotgun.

“You can’t have a gun in a platformer!” Luigi exclaimed.

Mario slapped him. “Shut upa! You’re useless! I’m switching genres! Now this game is survival horror, and I’m getting my coins back and killing anyone who gets in my way. You know as they say: Guns don’t kill people; people with mustaches kill people.” Mario chambered a round. “Letsa go!”

Coming November 4th to Nintendo Wii.

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