Archive for the ‘In My World’ Category

In My World: First Business

Monday, January 26, 2009 12:06 pm

“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

Tuesday, January 20, 2009 3:00 pm

“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

Wednesday, January 7, 2009 12:22 pm

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

Tuesday, December 16, 2008 9:25 am

“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

Monday, December 8, 2008 12:01 pm

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

Thursday, December 4, 2008 11:22 am

“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

Tuesday, November 11, 2008 2:05 pm

“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

Monday, November 10, 2008 2:16 pm

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

Friday, October 17, 2008 9:08 am

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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In My World: Redistribution

Thursday, October 16, 2008 9:25 am

Joe the Plumber was busy working under a kitchen sink, which is why he didn’t hear someone come up behind him. He was slammed in the back with a pipe wrench, leaving him crying in pain as he looked up at his attacker: Barack Obama.

“You made one mistake, Joe,” Obama said. “You made too much money.”

“I’m just trying to expand my business.” Joe lay on the floor, clutching his back. “I was just hoping to–”

Obama kicked him. “I don’t care! It’s my money now! Give it to me!”

Joe pulled out his wallet and Obama greedily snatched it away and looked through it. He then kicked Joe again. “There’s not enough in there!”

“What’s going on?” The owner of the house stood at the kitchen’s door, looking shocked at the scene in front of her.

“This doesn’t concern you!” Obama shouted at her.

“Should I call the police?” she asked.

Obama ripped the kitchen phone out of the wall. “You’re not calling anyone, bitch! Now what were you going to pay him?”

“Hey, leave her alone!” Joe pleaded. “This is about me!”

“Shut the @#$% up!” Obama shouted back. He then waved his pipe wrench at the woman. “Write the check out to me! Do it! Do it now!”

The woman broke down crying as she pulled out her checkbook.

Obama walked back over to Joe. “This is why I have nothing but disdain for women.”

“What do you want?” Joe asked desperately.

“I just want to help everybody, Joe.” Obama knelt down and smiled. “Just trying to spread the wealth around. But @#$% like you got to make this difficult. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to take your cell phone, call your banks, and wire $40,000 to me. If you don’t, I’m going to raise your taxes even more by making you lose your Child Tax Credit. And know how I’m going to do that? BY @#$% KILLING YOUR FAMILY!!!!”

The screen turned off and Obama turned to the press. “And that was the dramatization of my new tax plan. Any questions?”

“Why are you so awesome?” a reporter squealed with glee.

“It’s hard.” Obama bowed his head sadly. “Especially when FOX News allows critical things about me to be said.”

“Awww, poor Obama,” the press said. “Everyone is against him.”

“Let’s only write positive things about him and negative things about McCain!” one reporter said.

Another reporter looked confused. “Um… I thought we were already doing that.”

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In My World: The Speech Master

Thursday, October 9, 2008 10:30 am

“Eeeeee!” squealed a Barack Obama supporter. “It’s Barack Obama! He’s such a great speaker!”

“It is time,” Obama announced to the crowd. “A time for change. A time for hope. A time for the hope that change brings… but also a time for the change brought forth by hope.” He stared at the crowd intently. “What you must remember is that teleprompter error 0657f8a9. Unrecoverable error. Teleprompter rebooting.” Obama made some hand motions for emphasis. “Dot. Dot. Dot. Welcome to your knew Junior TeleSpeak brand teleprompter. Initializing program. Loading test speech patterns.” Obama paused dramatically. “She sells sea shells by the sea shore. Peter piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.” He took one last long look at the crowd. “End program.”

The crowd cheered wildly. Obama turned to his campaign staff behind him and gave them the thumbs up. “Me speakee good!”

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In My World: Guilt by Association

Monday, October 6, 2008 12:02 pm

“McCain wants to distract you from the issues,” Barack Obama told a crowd at a campaign rally. “Instead of focusing on the economy and his mistakes with Iraq, he wants to distract you with my past associations or how I keep getting buckets stuck on my head — things that have nothing to do with the issues that concern you. Recently, McCain has started talking about my association with Crack Dealer Steve… a man I hardly even know and someone who has nothing to do with the financial crisis.”

Crack Dealer Steve waved to the crowd from behind Obama. “Hey. I sell crack to school kids.”

“McCain wants you to forget about the issues and instead smears me by association just because I sometimes play golf with Crack Dealer Steve, occasionally have him give a ride to my kids, and because I’ve driven getaway for him.”

“That reminds me,” Crack Dealer Steve said. “Can you be my alibi for Thursday?”

“Sure.” Obama looked back to the crowd. “And how was I even supposed to know he’s a crack dealer? I just knew him as a respected man in my community.”

“Well, I did introduce myself to you as ‘Crack Dealer Steve’ and asked if your kids wanted to buy some crack.”

“Anyway, the point is not my associations, but my judgment,” Obama said, “the judgment to play down those associations. Also, there are my accomplishments, like how I put together a desk I bought from Ikea two years ago.”

“It’s true; I helped,” Crack Dealer Steve stated.

“Instead, of talking about the important things. McCain wants to spread lies about me.”

“Like that whole Muslim thing,” Crack Dealer Steve said. “It’s not true. I’ve never seen a Muslim get totally hammered as much as Barry.”

“What McCain should be talking about is our financial crisis!”

Crack Dealer Steve nodded. “Lately, I’ve had to raise my prices on crack so much, school kids can hardly even afford it. I guess I can try selling crack to adults, but that’s a market I’m unfamiliar with.”

“Plus, these people McCain tries to associate with me aren’t even necessarily supporters,” Obama continued.

“Again, that’s true,” Crack Dealer Steve added. “I’m not voting for Barry; you can’t trust this spaz with jack. I once had him hold a bunch of crack for me for just a day, and you wouldn’t believe how much was missing when I got it back.”

“Also, to bring up these associations is obvious racism.”

Crack Dealer Steve looked confused. “I don’t get it; how’s it racism?”

“You’re white,” Obama explained. “Notice how they keep bringing up these white people to associate me with as if to emphasize in comparison how black I am. They never bring up all my numerous questionable black associates.”

“Don’t forget me!” Jeremiah Wright called out.

Obama chuckled. “Oh yeah… except for Wright.”

“I hate the honkeys!” Wright yelled out enthusiastically.

“And America,” Obama reminded him.

“Because it’s full of honkeys!”

Crack Dealer Steve shook his head. “You really do hang out with a lot of weirdos. I mean, I’m a crack dealer, and I hang out with a better class of people. I don’t know anyone who bombed the Pentagon.”

Obama covered his mike and turned to Crack Dealer Steve. “You’re really not helping.”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to help. I thought I was just here because your kids wanted crack or something.”

“If they wanted crack, they didn’t tell me,” Obama said. “Now stop embarrassing me!”

“Bah. I’m outta here, Barry.” Crack Dealer Steve started to leave. “Oh, but could you give me a ride later? I’m going to have to ditch my car.”

“Sure.” Obama chuckled. “You’re lucky we’re such good friends.”

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In My World: Sarah Palin in “Noisy Neighbors”

Monday, September 29, 2008 11:25 am

Sarah Palin relaxed in bed with her husband Todd. “Campaigning to be Vice President is crazy. It’s nice to have a little time back home in Alaska to get my bearings.” She closed her eyes to go to sleep but was woken by loud music and shouting outside. “Not those Russian neighbors again!” Palin yelled. She looked out the window to see that the house across the water from them seemed to be having a party. “Putin! What’s he up to?”

“That guy is always causing trouble,” Todd said. “He uses his leaf blower at odd hours, doesn’t take care of all his weeds, and invades Georgia.”

“Can’t we complain about him to the HOA?”

Todd shrugged. “I think the HOA’s authority ends at the Bering Strait.”

Piper walked in the bedroom carrying Trig. “The loud noise woke Trig and he started crying.”

“Well, this is too much then!” Palin exclaimed. “It’s like they’re having a whole Communist party over there.” She heard rumbling overhead. “Are those jets? Are they flying jets over our house?”

“That’s got to go against both noise ordinances and international treaties,” Todd grumbled.

Palin got out of bed. “I guess we better do something about it then.”

Todd shook his head. “Shouldn’t we leave this up to the military?”

“We’re not going to be one of those states always looking to the federal government to solve our problems.” Palin snapped her fingers in the air. “Willow! Get my moose gun!”

* * * *

“Turn the music up louder!” Putin ordered. “Let us celebrate the Russian empire! Soon we will take back Georgia! Then we will conduct our secret plans to take back Alaska and cripple the U.S. economy. Next, we will take over the universe! It will be under Putin’s control! Me! I’m Putin! Muh ha ha ha ha!”

“Turn that racket down!” someone shouted. “And stop flying your jets over my property!”

Putin looked across the Bering Strait to see Palin standing in front of her house in her nightgown holding a rifle.

“You do not tell the Russian empire what to do, stupid hockey mom!” Putin yelled. “We are the great Russia, and you are but woman. We laugh at you! Ha ha ha ha!”

“You’re asking for it, Dobby!”

“Bah! I pay you no more mind!” Putin turned back to the party. “Make the music louder or I send you all to gulag!”

There was a loud gunshot, and a fighter jet plummeted out of the sky exploding in Putin’s garden. “My prize rose bushes!” Putin screamed.

“Hey, Poot-poot, know what’s the difference between a hockey mom and a pit bull?” Palin held her rifle in the air. “The moose gun!”

Putin shook his fist at her. “You will pay for this, foolish woman! You will be dead from the us killing you! We will–” A shot flew past Putin’s head. “Flee!”

* * * *

“Finally, some rest.” Palin went to sleep, but was soon woken by a noise downstairs. “What’s that?”

“Could be a burglar,” Todd said. “I guess I’ll check it out.”

“No, it’s my turn to kill the burglar.” Palin got out of bed and crept downstairs. Rummaging around the kitchen was a giant bear. “Not a bear in house,” Palin groaned. “Taking care of bear’s in the house was Track’s job.” Plain turned around to see Willow standing behind her. “Fetch me the Bowie knife.”

“Can’t we just shoot it?”

“What did I tell you about firing guns in the house? Now get me the knife, Willow.”

“I forget where it is.”

“Well where did you last see it?”

Willow thought for a moment. “I think in a deer’s neck.”

Palin rolled her eyes. “I guess we’ll have to improvise.” She crept over to the piano. “And we just got this tuned.” She ripped out a piece of piano wire and walked towards the bear. “Hey! Yogi!”

The bear stood up, and Palin jumped on its back, wrapping the piano wire around it’s neck. “You got in the wrong house, bear!”

The bear failed around, knocking over furniture. Palin held on tight. “Strangling a bear is a lot harder than I remember.”

Todd came down stairs. “Honey, if you had to strangle a bear, you should have called me.”

Palin struggled to keep hold of the bear. “I’m a modern woman; I can do this myself.”

“I’ll help loosen him up for you.” Todd ran over and started punching the bear in the gut. Soon, it fell down dead.

Piper ran over and kicked the fallen bear. She held her hands in the air triumphantly. “I helped!”

“You sure did, sweetie.” Palin looked around. “Now how did it get in here?” She noticed the front door was wide open. Outside, she could see their trash was knocked over.

“You should be careful with your trash,” Putin laughed from across the Bering Strait. “That can attract wild animals.”

“I know you’re behind this, Putin!” Palin yelled. “You’ll not get away with this!”

“Bah! You cannot threaten Russia! You do anything, we will point nuclear missiles at you!”

Palin scoffed. “So what? You can nuke whole sections of Alaska and we’ll never even notice.”

“You think you’re tough, hockey mom, but you will soon see that– She’s got the moose gun again! Flee!”

* * * *

“Maybe we should just move,” an adviser told Putin.

“Are you crazy mad!” Putin shouted. “You want to put my house for sale in this market? No, we figure out way to get by this silly hockey mom. We need to find advance technology that is immune to moose gun.”

“But nothing can resist a moose gun!” the adviser exclaimed. “Especially not moose!”

“It no matter!” Putin said. “I have plans that will not fail.” He pointed to a whiteboard he had propped up behind him. “Alaska will soon be mine!” He heard a loud noise. “What is that? Aieee! Snow machines!”

“Out of the way, Ruski!” Todd Palin raced right through Putin’s house on a snow mobile. Putin dived to the floor as Todd smashed right through his whiteboard.

“My plans!” Putin screamed.

“I’m winning! Yeah!” Todd yelled as crashed through one of the doors. Numerous snow mobiles followed close behind.

Putin got up and shook his fist at the snow mobiles. “You will pay for this! I will–” Putin was bowled over by a pack of dogs.

“The Iditarod is through here, right?” asked a man on a sled.

“Alaskans!” Putin screamed. “Foiled again by that hockey mom! Maybe she’ll be elected vice president and move away.”

“But I like Obama,” Putin’s adviser said. “I even call the Democrats to ask how I can help. They sent me a box full of absentee ballots for someplace called ‘Ohio.'”

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In My World: All Purpose Plan B

Wednesday, September 24, 2008 10:03 am

“I bet this will fix the economy!” President Bush fervently wrote out his new plan, but then his desk caught fire. “Aww! I just screwed things up even more! Why am I always doing that?”

He grabbed one of his five fire extinguishers the staff always made him keep on hand and put out his desk. He turned to Dick Cheney who was entering the office. “Where’s my economy guy?”

“He’s fled.”

Bush shrugged. “Well, I did hire him because he was smart.” He put the empty fire extinguisher in his “Stuff to Throw at Harry Reid’s Head” box. “So what’s the plan now, Dick?”

“You just need to get the Congress to pass your $700 billion bailout plan.” Cheney rubbed his hands together greedily.

Bush kept a suspicious eye on Cheney as he sat back at his charred desk. “And then what?”

“That money will then be split up and sent to different corporations to help fix the economy.”

“But really…”

Cheney laughed evilly, the only kind of way he laughed. “All the corporations the money goes to will be shell corporations of Halliburton. Halliburton will recollect the $700 billion and then we’ll flee with it to Mexico. We’ll then use the funds to start a new government there.”

“Doesn’t Mexico already have a government?”

“Eh… considers your definition of ‘government’.”

Bush thought about it for a moment. “Well, at least we have a plan.”

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