“Power! All that glorious power will soon be mine! Mine!” Hillary Clinton rubbed her hands together greedily while letting forth a chilling cackle.
“Thank you, Senator Clinton, for your opening remarks,” debate moderator Keith Olbermann said. “Senator Obama, it’s your turn.”

Barack Obama smiled like a two year old with a lollipop. “Hello. My name is Barack Obama. I would like to be president. People say I don’t have the experience, but I’ve been a Senator for this many…” He held up three fingers. “…years. I think I would be a good president. I like firetrucks.”
“Senator Edwards, you turn.”
“I just want everyone to know that I am the only candidate here who truly cares about poor people and the downtrodden. I–”
“You’re urinating on a homeless man,” Bill Richardson interrupted.
“I don’t see your point,” Edwards responded, now peeing on the homeless man’s face.
“Please! I’ve suffered enough!” the homeless man pleaded.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit hypocritical to be talking about how much you care about poor people while urinating on a homeless man?” Richardson asked.
“Hey, I needed something to pee on and he was there,” Edwards said. “Let’s not focus on my actions and instead focus on my populist, progressive rhetoric I’ve recently adopted. Oh, and don’t forget my hair.” He ran his hand through his silky hair. “Isn’t it fabulous! Don’t you just want to touch it?”
“I do,” Olbermann said, “but I’ve been handcuffed to my chair specifically so I don’t.”
“I requested that,” Hillary stated.
“Representative Kucinich, your opening statement.”
“A lot of people think I’m a shriveled little gnome who is completely nuts, but I also… AIEEEE!”
Electricity pulsed through Dennis Kucinich, dropping him to the ground.
“I pooped my pants a second time!” Olbermann exclaimed in fright.
A vortex emerged at the center of the stage. From it emerged a giant figure in black armor with glowing red eyes. “I am O’Yama, eater of souls and registered Democrat!” he screamed, lighting bursting about him and the entire auditorium shaking at the sound of his voice. “The rage and hatred of Democrats has empowered me to return and seek the Democratic nomination that is rightfully mine! I have come to give you a true choice of darkness, evil, and progressivism. I shun moderation and vow to truly change this nation by turning it into hell on earth!”
The audience cheered. “That’ll show the rich!” one yelled.
Hillary yawned loudly. “Oh no, another candidate trying to attack me from the left.”
“Do not mock me!” O’Yama bellowed, his eyes burning with rage. He aimed his hand and shot lightning from his fingertips, electrocuting Kucinich and dropping him to the ground.
Obama giggled. “He has a silly sounding name.”
“Quiet, weak-minded fool, or taste my wrath as I create an equal redistribution of pain!” O’Yama extended both hands and shot lightning from his fingertips, electrocuting Kucinich and dropping him to the ground.
“Why me?” he moaned.
“So what is your stance on the Iraq War, O’Yama?” Keith Olbermann asked.
“I will end it immediately by taking funding away from our troops and giving it to their enemies. Anyone who is a part of Bush’s war should suffer and die!”
The audience cheered. “He says what we’re thinking!” one exclaimed.
“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with calling for the slaughter of our troops,” Edwards said.
“But most of them are Republican!” shouted an audience member.
“Yes, but isn’t it better to support them while looking down on them as victims and young people too stupid to get real jobs,” Edwards suggested. “What I’m saying is we support the troops, but support them as the dumb babies they are.”
“There will be no room for such moderation in an O’Yama administration! Here’s is my response to such compromises to true progressivism!” O’Yama pointed his hand and shot lightning from his fingertips, electrocuting Kucinich and dropping him to the ground.
“On second though, maybe I don’t need to be in these debates anymore,” Kucinich moaned.
“Well what about domestic issues?” Olbermann asked O’Yama eagerly. “What are your views on abortion?”
“Babies are nothing but an assault on women’s rights! I will slaughter all infants, whether they are in the womb or out, and I shall do it all with federal tax money!”
There was a standing ovation. “Finally, someone who really understand what women’s rights is all about!” a buzz cut woman shouted.
“This guy is awesome!” Olbermann exclaimed as he drooled on himself. “Now I have a different type of mess in my pants!”
“This is stupid,” Hillary said. “This sort of talk isn’t going to play at all in the general election.”
“Bah!” O’Yama bellowed. “If Democrats have the courage to nominate a true progressive, he will surely be elected president and eat the souls of any who disagree with him! Muh ha ha ha!”
Another standing ovation. “Finally! A Democrat with courage to tell it the way it is!”
Hillary growled. “Listen, you stupid demigod: I am going to win this nomination and I’m not going to have you force me left in the primary to ruin my chances in the general. You are not the first demon I’ve dealt, and I doubt you’ll be the last.”
“Quiet, woman!” O’Yama snarled. “You and your political maneuvering do not frighten an evil which has existed and plotted and planned for thousands of years as opposed to an evil who was simply married to a president for eight.”
“I will bury you!” Hillary screeched as she charged O’Yama.
“It is time for your rule of the Democrats to end, foul harpy!” O’Yama raised both arms, and fire surrounded them both. There was a horrid scream, and the rest of the candidates fled the stage as the fire grew. After seeming like it would soon engulf the entire auditorium, the fire began to fade until it disappeared entirely leaving a pile ash next to a single dark figure on stage with glowing red eyes: Hillary Clinton.
“I shall be the Democratic nominee!” she bellowed, shaking the entire room. “No other evil shall stand before me!”

Laura Bush turned from the TV to President Bush. “Hillary Clinton may control hellfire, but she’s still not a flaming liberal like the rest of those candidates.”
Bush turned off the TV with the remote. “Why are we even watching this crap? This doesn’t affect me anymore. These idiots can battle it out for president all they want and I’m still leaving office with all the money of I’ve made through Halliburton with my illegal warring.”
Laura rolled here eyes. “You haven’t made any money from Halliburton. That’s just stupid conspiracy theories on the net made by people with too much time on their hands. If you don’t stop reading them, I’m going to take away your internet privileges.”
“You sure it’s all made up?” Bush asked. “I can almost swear I remember wiring World Trade Center 7 for explosives. Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. I know what I’m doing after I leave office.” He held up a piece of paper. “I already got an application for the Taco Bell in Crawford, Texas, all filled out. I hear if you work there, you get free tacos!”
Laura sighed. “I know. You’ve been talking about it for the past two years.”
“Mmm… tacos!”

“I’m Anderson Cooper…” he pirouetted. “…360, and this is the Republican presidential debate on CNN! We have a lot of questions, so, to save time, we’re not going to let Duncan Hunter speak.”
“Oh, come on!”
“Sorry, you have to be either a front runner or crazy like Tancredo and Ron Paul or otherwise when you’re talking it might as well be dead air,” Cooper said.

“I’m not crazy,” Ron Paul stated, “I really am the second coming of Thomas Jefferson, whose appearance will usher in a thousand years of fiscal responsibility.”
Tom Tancredo pounded his podium. “Less talk, more nuking Mecca!”
“Alright, lets get to the questions,” Cooper said. “We had over five thousand videos sent in by YouTube users. Most were snippets of hardcore pornography but a number were questions from undecided Republicans. Let’s see the first one.”
On screen was a young man who looked about college age. “Many of you have taken strong stances against illegal immigration. What is it about brown people that you hate the most?”
Cooper turned to Mitt Romney. “You can take that.”
“Um… I’m not really sure I accept the premise of that questions…”
“Because they’re lazy,” Tancredo piped in. “Is that the right answer?”
Fred Thompson stared down Cooper. “These better not be a bunch of crap questions or I’m gonna hurt ya, you understand that?”
“Well, I know I don’t hate illegal immigrants,” Mike Huckabee said. “I can’t help but raise taxes to give them free tuition when they look at me with their cute little illegal faces with those big, sad eyes they have. ”
“Those eyes are where they’re most vulnerable!” Tancredo added.
“I think this is a good time as any to point out that Romney hired illegal aliens,” Rudy Giuliani said. “He had a sanctuary mansion.”
“What?” Romney exclaimed. “How can you criticize me for that? You had a whole sanctuary city!”
“Yes, but as I can back up with a doctor’s note,” Giuliani responded. “I’m a bit out of my mind and not always responsible for my own actions. I don’t think you have that excuse. And, if you want to know my record on illegal immigration, just look at what happened with Amadou Diallo. I personally shot him forty-one times, and he was a legal immigrant. Think of what I’d do to a illegal immigrant… or a terrorists.”
“Fascinating.” Cooper pointed to the screen. “Next question.”
A girl with pink dyed hair appeared on screen. “Many of you support private ownership of guns. Is this because you’re sexually aroused by kids blowing their heads off?”
“Are you sure these questions are from undecided Republicans?” Romney asked.
“Yes,” Cooper responded. “And I don’t like the tone of your question.”
“If some kid puts his grubby hands on my guns, he might as well blow his head off and save me the trouble,” Fred Thompson growled.
“Now, I know this is one of the social issues I’m vulnerable on,” Giuliani said, “as I’ve been honest about the fact that I want to abort gun owners. Still, you should at least admire the zeal at which I went after gun owners with my experience as a prosecutor. Just another reminded that I was in real life what Fred Thompson played on TV.” He chuckled a bit.
Fred Thompson glared at him. “Shut up.”
Giuliani bowed his head. “Yes sir. Sorry sir.”
“It should be noted that guns are not mentioned in the Constitution!” Ron Paul said. “Yes, they are in the Bill of Rights, but I have never liked that addition as it takes away from the blessed purity of the Constitution itself!”
Cooper nodded. “Okay. Next question.”
“Wait a second,” Romney said. “These questions aren’t all going to be like this, are they? These seem more like questions based on ignorant stereotypes of conservatives, which I find offensive since I’ve been a strident conservative for five whole weeks now. We are not all a bunch of mindless bigots who love violence.”
“I’m not sure if this a good point to mention it,” Tancredo said, “but I have a new plan to combat illegal immigrants by setting their children on fire.”
Romney turned to Tancredo. “You’re kinda stepping on my point here, Tom.”
“I assure you these are all carefully vetted questions,” Cooper said, “and are the concerns of real conservatives and not based on some cartoonish stereotype. Here’s the next question.”
On screen was a young man covered in tattoos and piercings. “So why do you guys like kicking puppies?”
Romney groaned.
“I’d say because of the weird sound they make and because they’re small so they fly far,” Tancredo said.
“I want to make it clear that I am against the kicking puppies,” John McCain said. “Even if we suspect a puppy has information about an upcoming terrorist attack, I am against kicking it.”
“Do you have any questions from actual Republicans, Cooper?” Romney asked.
“They’re all questions from undecided Republicans, so shut up!” Cooper said. “Here’s the next one.”
A very pale looking young man appeared on screen. “So, since you’re all Christians and stuff, do you really think Jesus would be bombing Iraqi children like you guys?” He laughed to himself. “That oughta show those stupid Republicans. I should diary this on Kos…”
“This is pointless,” Romney said.
“I should note that Jesus wasn’t explicit on everything,” Huckabee said. “Like He never said anything about eating pie, and I sure love my pie. Mmm… pie. But Jesus was clear on one thing: Raising taxes is okay if it’s to fund programs to encourage illegal immigration. If you don’t understand that, then maybe you aren’t a good Christian.”
“You’re all missing the point here, people!” Ron Paul exclaimed, “We have encouraged attacks by existing! We need to withdraw America from everywhere in the world and hide it. We’ll stop both terrorism and illegal immigration if no one can find us. Also, we should build a shield around all of America out of pure gold which will also back our dollar! It’s just common sense!”
“If people don’t want their kids blown up, they shouldn’t piss us off,” Fred Thompson said. “It’s as simple as that. Now, are these questions submitted anonymously or can you tell me where these people are so I can hurt them?”
“I assure you that no one other than those with access to internet has any idea who these people are,” Cooper answered. “Thus, CNN is completely clueless on that matter.”
“I really suspect these questioners,” Romney said. “I think some of these people may even be Democratic operatives.”
“That’s a crazy conspiracy theory,” Cooper responded. “Don’t make me put you in the nuts section with Ron Paul and Tancredo. Here’s the next question.”
A well coiffed man smilingly gaily appeared on screen. “Hi. I’m an undecided Republican and I just want to know how any of you think you can be elected president when none of you have fabulous hair like me.”
“First off,” Romney said, “my hair is much more fabulous and shiny. Second, that was not an undecided Republican; that was Democratic presidential candidate John Edwards.”
Cooper shrugged. “Well, if we had known that, I’m sure we would have thought of mentioning it.”
Fred Thompson pointed at the screen. “I want to beat up that sissy. Actually, if I am elected president, I promise to beat that sissy John Edwards.”
“I really want to hurt him to,” Giuliani said.
“So do all of you agree on the issue of hurting John Edwards?” Cooper asking.
All the candidates nodded in agreement except Ron Paul. “I’m not sure that’s Constitutional.”
“I also promise to beat Ron Paul with a rolled up Constitution,” Fred Thompson said.
“This is a good discussion,” Cooper stated. “Here’s the next question.”
A young black man appeared on screen. “Why do you think that even though blacks agree with you conservatives on most social issues they won’t vote for any of you dumb honkeys?”
“Probably because I keep shooting them multiple times,” Giuliani ventured.
“I think it’s a cultural difference,” McCain said. “Due to injuries I received from being tortured by gook bastards, I am physically incapable of waving my hands in the air like I just don’t care which gives me great trouble when trying to relate to black people.”
“I want black people to know that I want their vote and that my religion has been tolerant of black people for a couple decades now,” Romney stated.
“I won’t have any trouble getting black votes myself,” Ron Paul said. “In fact, I’m half black. It’s my lower half.”
“We let black people vote now?” Tancredo asked, looking confused.
“Let’s move on to the next question,” Cooper said.
On screen appeared an old man. “I’m a retired gay general — a regayneral — and I wanted to know what you homo-haters think of that!”
Romney squinted at the screen. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that guy campaigning with Hillary.”
“Well guess what… we’ve brought him here!” Cooper exclaimed.
In the audience stood up the man now wearing a “Gay for Hillary” t-shirt. “I’m here! I’m queer! Get used to it!”
Romney sighed. “This is ridiculous. We’re not all irrationally scared of homosexuals as you in the media like to portray us.”
“Careful!” Tancredo screamed, pointing at the man. “He might get his gay on us!”
“You’re really not helping, Tom.”
Tancredo looked around in pure fright as he covered his butt. “Where did he go!? Where did he go!?”
“I’m tired of this crap,” Fred Thompson announced, “I’m going to bed.”
Cooper pointed an accusing finger at him. “So you are just as lazy as they say! I knew–” He was knocked down by a large object. “Okay! Who threw Ron Paul at me?”
“This is stupid.” Giuliani began to walk off. “I’m going to have my friends from New York back here to bust things up.”
“This is just the sort of evil my sacred garments are supposed to protect me from.” Romney left too.
“Frankly, I’d rather be back in the Hanoi Hilton than listen to another one of these internet twits.” McCain walked away.
“I may have a goofy name, but I’m still too serious a person for this.” Huckabee looked to the audience. “Chuck, you know what to do.”
Chuck Norris walked up to Cooper and roundhouse kicked him in the face, knocking the CNN reporter out cold. Chuck then limped off. “Man, I forgot my arthritis meds.”
Duncan Hunter walked away as well. “I’m not irrelevant enough to stay here.”
Only Tancredo was left on stage. “I just want to say that we need to get all the illegal immigrants to Mecca so we can nuke them.” He then held up a baby golden retriever. “Now someone hold this puppy still so I can see how far I can punt him.”

“Hello reporters and other malcontents,” President Bush said to the people assembled on the field. “I have gathered you here to witness the defining moment of my presidency.”
“I thought that was Iraq,” one reporter said.
“No, that was to distract everyone from this which is much more awesome. This is–”

“We’re out in a field,” another reporter said.
“Yes, that so you can get a better view of–”
“It’s cold and windy here.”
“Shut up!” Bush shouted. “You wonder why people hate you? This is why! Now listen; this is important. Anyway, here it is: The greatest accomplishment of my presidency. Look up in the sky.”
“Is that a small moon?” said one curious reporter.
“That’s no moon!” exclaimed another. “That’s a space station!”
“That’s right!” Bush smiled. “I built myself a freak’n Death Star!”
The reporters gasped in astonishment. Finally, one asked, “So what’s it do?”
Bush rolled his eyes. “It blows up planets! How do you not know that? You guys are idiots.”
“Are you going to blow up the earth?”
“No! That’s where I keep my stuff. It’s for blowing up other planets.”
All the reporters were silent for a while. “Why?”
Bush threw his hands in the air. “I swear, you guys ask the dumbest questions! Do you not understand this? I have a Death Star! This is like the greatest event ever! It’s like man first landing on the moon and then doing an awesome guitar solo! Ask some good questions for once!”
“Is is carbon neutral?”
“Gah! Who cares?! It can destroy environments in a single shot! How do you not understand how awesome this is?!!”
“Can we see it blow up a planet?”
“Finally. A decent question,” Bush said. “I’m afraid the answer is no, though. I was going to have it blow up Venus since that’s closest and we don’t use it for anything, but it ends up it hard to move the thing. I thought it would be easy since in space everything is weightless, but it ends up it still has that other thing… uh… mass. Anyway, just know it can blow up planets and we’re working on how to move it to other planets to blow them up. Next question.”
All the reporters were silent for a few seconds until one finally raised his hand. “Again, why?”
Bush sighed. “It’s a Death Star! America now has a Death Star! That’s why! We can blow up planets, which makes us the most powerful force in the universe… that we know of. How are you people not grasping this?”
“Well… can we go up and see it?”
“No. Space travel is expensive. Also, if we let you guys up there, I bet the New York Times reporter is going to de-power the tractor beam to let terrorists escape.”
“There are terrorists in space?”
“Not at present… but eventually… there could be.”
“So who is up there in it?”
“Mexicans. It’s not like we had a bunch of Geonosians to build it, so that’s why I fought for relaxed immigration control: So I’d have enough Mexicans to build my Death Star. We said we’d ship them down afterwards, but it actually wasn’t in the budget. Now they’re threatening to take over the Death Star blow up earth if I don’t ship them more burritos, but I think they’re bluffing.” Bush’s phone rang. “Ooh. I got to take this.” He answered his phone. “Hey, Dick. So how did dissolving the Senate go? …No, they won’t get to keep their pensions. You don’t pay out pensions after you dissolve something… They can’t refuse to leave! Don’t they know I have a Death Star?!” Bush sighed as he hung up the phone. “So, anymore questions?”
After a moment, one reporter ventured, “Well… um… uh… why?”
Bush groaned. “Why are you people making this complicated? It’s a Death Star. I know everyone watching this at home understand this. You reporters are the only ones not getting it. You are out of touch and that’s why everyone hates you. Every time you people broadcast I can hear millions of voices suddenly cry out in terror and are then suddenly silenced as they turn you off. You all are horrible human beings. How are you not getting this?”
Everyone was silent for a while. “So what are we waiting for?”
“For another planet to attack.”

Governor Schwarzenegger stood at the podium for a press conference. “Hello. I am Ah-nuld! Ask your puny questions so I may crush them!”
“Are you satisfied with the government’s reaction to the wild fires?” a reporter asked.
“The fire was puny!” Arnold shouted. “I crushed it! It could not stand against me! I protect Cal-ee-forn-ya! I am Ah-nuld!”

“Are you afraid the currently contained fires may bleed out into other areas?” another reporter asked.
“I am afraid of nothing! I am Ah-nuld! And, if it bleeds, we can kill it!”
“Do you think the way evacuations have gone will help you politically?”
“I’m not into politics, I’m into survival! Evacuations went well because I am strong. I went door to door and said to the puny citizens, ‘Come with me if you want to live.’ They do as I say because they are puny and do not want me to crush them and know that I am Ah-nuld. Some were sad to leave, but I assured them, ‘You’ll be bahk!'”
“Do you think the relief to the fire was hindered by much of the National Guard being in Iraq?” a CNN reporter said.
Arnold chuckled. “Your question is funny. I will answer it last.”
“How do you think everything the disaster here has compared to Katrina?” another reporter asked.
“Katrina was puny! It was just wind and water! This involved fire! Fire burns! It is much more deadly! Still, compared to me, it is puny… so I crushed it… since I am Ah-nuld. But I vow one thing: Cal-ee-forn-ya will be a chocolate city once again!” Arnold looked back to the CNN reporter. “You know when I said I’d answer your questions last? I lied. There was plenty of relief workers, and you are just trying to insert politics into this because you are puny. For that, I will crush you! I am Ah-nuld!” Arnold shouted, “Dah!” as he picked up and crushed the reporter.
“You have vowed to hunt down the arsonists responsible for some of these fires,” a reporter said. “What are your exact plans?”
“What is best in life: Crush these enemies, see them driven before me, and to hear the lamentation of the women!”
“What about due process?”
“Due process is puny! I will crush it!”
“How do you crush due process?”
“It simple. I am big and strong. Due process is small and puny… so I crush it! What do you not understand? I am Ah-nuld!”
“Has all of this made you consider an eventual presidential run despite not currently being allowed to be president by the Constitution?”
“The Constitution is puny! If I want to be president, I will be president! I am Ah-nuld! No Constitution will tell me what to do! I will crush it!”
“You’re going to crush the Constitution?”
“It is but a puny piece of paper! I am big and strong! I am Ah-nuld! I will crush it!” Arnold checked his watch. “I have no more time for you puny people. I understand I have probably said too many thing for your puny brains to remember, so I will summarize.” He held up one finger. “Puny.” He held up a second finger. “Crush.” He held up a third finger. “Ah-nuld. Any last questions?”
“Who are you?”
“I AM AH-NULD!”

“Heh heh. I do kinda look like a chimp. I wonder if this guy just thought of that; it’s pretty clever.” President Bush closed his laptop and looked up at the attractive woman who had just entered the Oval Office. “Did you know some people make fun of me on the internet? And who are you? Did I order a stripper?”
“I’m Dana Perino, your new White House Press Secretary.”
Bush shrugged.

“I previously subbed for Tony Snow when he was getting cancer treatment. I’ve been the Director of Communications for the White House Council on Environmental Quality.”
“I’ve never even heard of that. Did you bring your own music or do I need to supply that.”
“I’m not a stripper! I was hoping to talk to you about strategies with the press.”
“Oh… well… ya know, I do crazy stuff and you just need to come up with some sort of explanation for my actions that makes me look good. It’s usually no use to talk to me first, ’cause I usually don’t remember why I do anything. Like the whole amnesty mess… I think that’s because I got Central America confused with the United States of America. Ends up they’re completely different… except that both of them have lots of Mexicans.”
She smiled nervously. “Tony explained to me this would be a challenging job, but I’m ready for it.”
“So you thinking you’ll like it? I’m considering getting a new job myself. I don’t think this whole ‘being president’ thing is working out; I really don’t see a future with it. I believe I’m in a binding contract, though, so I’m going to have to try and get myself fired.”
“Um… are you serious?”
“As I explained to Tony multiple times, I’m always serious; I lack the intelligence for sarcasm. Anyway, this is a fun job; I think you’re going to like it. This attractive woman press secretary idea is great. All the reporters will be like, ‘Maybe if we believe everything she says, she’ll like us.’ Of course, you won’t like them; I’ve met all those reporters, and you will end up despising each and everyone of them… but don’t let them know that. Also, I guess a nursing home nearby has bad security because this one crazy old lady comes to all the press conferences.”
“Helen Thomas?”
“Yeah. If you get near her, she bites… which is bad news because she always sits in the front row.”
“Sir, what I needed to talk to you about is the disappearance of MoveOn.org’s leadership. Apparently, there is some compelling evidence that some of your people are involved.”
Bush chuckled. “Oh, yeah; funny story: Those MoveOn.org guys are a bunch of douches, so I thought it would be a great joke to sign an order declaring them traitors and calling for their execution. You know I don’t actually have the power to execute American citizens, right?”
“Of course.”
“Well, the guy I gave the order to apparently didn’t know that. The MoveOn turds we’re all like, ‘Don’t shoot me, bro!’ and…” Bush started laughing. “Anyway, they’re pretty dead now, so you can tell the press to stop looking for them. I forget where their bodies are buried, but it’s going to be a parking lot soon. I hope that helps.”
Dana stared at him in shock.
“I guess they ‘Moved On’ to the afterlife.” Bush laughed, but saw that Dana was still looking at him in disbelief. “I guess you had to have been there.”

PREVIOUSLY ON IN MY WORLD
“You haven’t been listening to the generals!” Harry Reid shouted at President Bush. “Iraq is just like Vietnam! You must withdraw troops now or we’re doomed! Dooooomed!”
TODAY ON IN MY WORLD
“You need to stop listening to the generals!” Harry Reid shouted at President Bush. “And Iraq will not be like Vietnam, so don’t worry about withdrawing the troops now! Now! Before we’re doomed! Doooomed!”

“Rarr! I hate you Democrats!” Bush yelled. “The only thing doomed is your election prospects if we succeed in Iraq! But you won’t live that long!” Bush hit the trapdoor button and the floor fell out from underneath Harry Reid. “Muh ha ha ha ha!” Bush walked to the edge of the trapdoor. “Now you die!”
“Um… could you not drop your Democrats on me?” called a voice up from below.
“What? I thought there was supposed a lion or a rancor down there?”
“No, just Bob from accounting. This is my office and I have lots of paperwork to do.”
“I just assumed when the contractors came in and installed the trapdoor, they’d put a pit with deadly beast below it.”
“I never heard of that. My office has always been below yours.”
Bush stamped his foot in frustration. “Well… uh… could you kill Harry Reid?”
“What? I don’t…”
“Just pick up a stapler and staple him to death or something.”
“That’s… that’s really not in my job description. Anyway, he’s gotten up and walked out already.”
“This was supposed to be a pit of death! What use is a pit of accounting?” Bush thought for a moment. “I guess if someone came to me with an accounting question, I could send him through the trapdoor to you.”
“The person would fall right on my desk; I don’t think either of us would like that.”
“Details. Hey, could you push the trapdoor closed from down there.”
Bob got on his desk and pushed the flap back in place.
“Thanks!” Bush sat back at his desk and Tony Snow came in the room. “What’s up, Snowman? Hey, did you know there isn’t a pit of death under my office?”
Tony paused for a moment. “I’m not sure how to respond to that, sir.”
Bush’s hand hovered over the trapdoor button. “So, do you have an accounting question?”
“I’m going to say ‘No.’ I’m here to tell you that I’m going to be retiring from the job of White House Press Secretary. With all the stress and the toll on my health, this job has made me yearn for the simple, blissful days when I had cancer.”
Bush was sad for a moment, but then a thought struck him. “Hey! Maybe that hot chick can fill in for you again!”
Tony sighed. “I’m glad you’re excited. Anyway, I just wanted to give you notice.”
Bush nodded. “Hey, before you go, what’s six times thirteen?”
“Huh?”
“Kinda a tough math question.” Bush’s hand hovered over the trap door button. “Maybe one for an accountant.”
“It’s seventy-eight.”
Bush groaned in anger.
“I’m just going to leave now.”
After Tony Snow left, Chuck Hagel walked into the office. “We had scheduled a meeting about–”
Bush hit the trap door button and Hagel plummeted down. “Ahh! My back!”
“Hey! I’m trying to work down here!”

“As you all know,” Barack Obama said to an assembled crowd of supporters, “I opposed the Iraq War from the start. Of course, that was because I thought Iraq was a province of Canada. Well, now I have smarter reasons to oppose the Iraq War. We have to take our troops out of Iraq and out of Afghanistan where they’re doing nothing but killing civilians and immediately invade Antarctica and bring peace between the penguin and seal population.”
President Bush turned off the TV. “Boy is that guy stupid. I guess I better bring peace to the world before the next guy takes over.”

Out of the shadows emerged the hooded figure of Karl Rove. “I’m afraid I won’t be with you to the end of this journey.”
“Whatcha you talk’n about, Rove?”
“According to the ancient Book of Punditry, now is the time I retire permanently to the shadows.”
“And do what?”
Rove eyes glowed. “Dark things… Plus, I’m going to spend more time with my family. Also, I’m writing a book.”
“Really? What’s it called?”
“Working title is the Necronomicon.”
“Eh… I don’t read books.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
Bush hung his head sadly. “Aww… we were such a great team. You were like Emperor Palpatine, Cheney was like Darth Vader, and I was like Jar Jar Binks, and together we were going to rule the galaxy! Now where are we going to get our evil to make others fear us? I don’t know if Cheney can do that alone.”
From another room they could hear Cheney shout, “More kittens! I’m hungry!”
Bush thought for a moment. “Hey, this isn’t just some trick of yours, is it?”
Rove handed Bush a piece of paper. “Check today’s talking points memo.”
Bush read the first line aloud. “‘Remember to belittle as crazy anyone who suggests Karl Rove’s resignation is just a Rovian trick.’ Hmm, who wrote this?” Bush checked the bottom of the memo. “Rarl Kove? Who’s he?”
“He’s… new.” The shadows grew around Karl Rove to the point they almost enveloped the whole room. “Now is the time that I depart to the land of darkness and shadows. Know that I shall never truly be gone. Wherever a child cries, wherever dreams go unfulfilled, wherever suffering becomes unbearable, wherever a Republican seems inexplicably unconcerned with border issues, I shall be there!” For the last time, Rove faded back into the shadows, and then the shadows themselves disappeared leaving the room bright and cheery.
A kitten wandered into the room. Cheney then ran in behind it and snatched it up by the scruff of its neck.
“Rove is gone,” Bush told him. “Now we have to figure things out ourselves.”
“Well, the Democrats are pushing even harder to spoil things in Iraq now that they think victory might be possible.”
Bush thought for a moment. “I know! We can invade Iran! Then everyone will complain about how that’s a quagmire and ignore Iraq just like they now ignore Afghanistan.”
Cheney shrugged his shoulders. “I guess that could work. Hey, have you seen my kitten dipping sauces?”

“Pull all the troops out of Iraq now! NOW!” President Bush shouted into the phone.
“Mr. President, what’s happening?” asked a bemused Tony Snow.
Bush tossed a newspaper at him. “The New York Times has an editorial saying we can win in Iraq! That means something really bad must be going on down there, and I don’t want our troops just sitting around waiting to find out what it is!”
“The editorial was by the Brookings Institution, not the New York Times itself,” Tony told him. “It was pretty well informed.”
“So its not some huge trap the New York Times and al Qeda have set up for America?” Bush asked cautiously.
“I doubt it.”
Bush picked up the phone. “Cancel the withdrawal order; tell all the troops to stay where they are. Thanks.” He hung up. “This is why I don’t read the newspaper; it’s gets me all worked up.”
“Anyway, we need–”
“Wait one sec.” Bush picked up the phone once more. “Also, disable those nuclear missiles I launched… Yeah, no rush. Just do it sometime before they hit. Thanks.” He hung up the phone. “So, snowman, I feel hungry for pie!”

“If generals are saying the surge is working, why should we listen to you, a Senator Reid, a doddering old man?” asked a reporter at the press conference.
“Bah! Generals don’t know anything! The only one who knows anything are those… um… smelly people I talk to.” He turned to his aide. “What are they called again?”
“Left-wing bloggers.”
Reid turned back to the reporters. “Yes, the bloggers. Everything is going poorly in Iraq. It is doomed! The efforts of the troops there are in vain! They’re doomed! Dooooomed!”
“Why is your tie missing?” another reporter asked.
“On the way here, a mugger took it along with my wallet. He also started brutalizing my wife. I thought of verbally protesting his actions, but decided not to get involved. Who knows if I wouldn’t have just made things worse?”
“Is your wife all right?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care! That doesn’t affect the Democratic Party!”
Reid stormed off with his fellow Democrats into a nearby conference room. “Patriotism, happiness, military victory: These are the demons we must slay if we want to ensure a the Democrats win big in 2008,” Reid told his people. “I don’t like the idea of people thinking that things could be going well in Iraq; success there could be the most devastating blow to the Democratic Party since the end of slavery! We were counting on al Qaeda to continuing killing lots of people in Iraq, but if they’re slacking, we’ll have to do it ourselves.” Reid turned to a DNC intern. “You! I need you to go over to Iraq and blow up lots of people.”
“Um… I don’t know…”
Reid grabbed him by the collar. “When you joined the DNC, you knew it could be a suicide mission!”
“Do you think maybe you’re losing perspective here?” the intern asked. “Maybe it’s better we change positions instead of supporting killing the innocent.”
“I have perspective!” Reid shouted. “How many Democratic defeats is worth an Iraqi’s life? I say, it’s better all the Iraqis die a horrible death than the Democrats lose one election! Now go to Iraq and blow people up! Try to kill some troops, too; they lean Republican, anyway.”
Reid’s aide took the intern aside. “He’s just cranky and needs a nap.”
There was a knock at the door and a police officer came in.
“Good! Did you find my tie?” Reid asked.
“No, but we have your wife and she’s okay.”
“Does she have my tie?”
“I don’t think so.”
“But did you find out who pooped in my car?”
“Yes. That was you.”
“Thanks, officer,” Reid’s aide said as he ushered the man out of the room. “It’s time for the Senator’s nap.” When the aide turned around, Reid already had his head on the table and was fast asleep in a puddle of drool.
“Doooomed. Dooooomed.” Reid uttered in his sleep.
“So I don’t have to go to Iraq and blow people up?” the intern asked Reid’s aide.
“No… at least not this far away from the election.”

“I’m Anderson Cooper…” he pirouetted. “…360, and this is the Democratic presidential debate on CNN! Let’s start with opening statements. First up, Hillary Clinton.”
“I will be president! It is inevitable!” she pounded her podium, cracking it. “Your only choice is whether you stand behind me or whether you get in my way and feel my horrible wrath!”

“Barack Obama, your turn.”
“I’m Barack Obama.”
Cooper was quiet a moment waiting for Obama to continue. “Is that your entire opening statement?”
“That’s all I got… well, that and my winning smile.” Obama smiled and the audience erupted in applause.
“John Edwards, your statement.”
“I want to unite the two Americas and end poverty and…” He started giggling. “I just can’t stand how fabulous my hair is today. I hope their broadcasting this in HD, because you really just need to admire my hair.” He ran his hand through it. “I could just feel it all day; I really could.”
“Now on to the second and third tier candidates,” Cooper said. “Since no one really cares what you all have to say, please be quick. Bill Richardson.”
“I’m a governor, and you should all know that governor’s are who usually become president, not Senators.”
“Dennis Kucinich.”
“We have to stop the mind controlling space lasers… with peace!”
“Mike Gravel.”
“Rocks go in the river! Throw the rocks in the river!”
“Chris Dodd.”
“I don’t even know anything about me.”
“And I should note that Joe Biden has decided not to give an opening statement to reduce the chance of him using a racial slur or some similar gaffe. Very wise of him.” Cooper turned towards a large TV screen. “We in the media have been criticized for asking stupid, insipid questions, so to prove that things can be worse we asked the public to submit questions on YouTube. As expected, intelligent, thoughtful people didn’t seem especially motivated to videotape themselves asking a question, but we went through what we had and found the most coherent and those least likely to make you give up hope in all humanity. Here’s the first one.”
On screen was a man staring into the camera with great confusion. “Is this recording? How do I know if this is recording? Maybe I need to hit this button again…” He reached forward and the screen went black.
“That actually was one of the best one’s submitted,” Cooper said. “Since it wasn’t addressed to anyone in particular, who wants it?”
“I’ll take it,” Richardson says. “I believe the camera was recording.”
Everyone else nodded in agreement.
“Good,” Cooper said. “This next question is for Hillary.”
On screen was some goth chick. “My question is for Hillary Clinton. As the the first openly evil presidential candidate, what are your plans for America?”
“If you knew the full extent of my plans, you would die from fear. Sill, I will say I plan to spread misery and pain to all Americans, but less misery and pain to those who do my bidding.”
“Any rebuttals?” Cooper asked.
“NONE SHALL DARE REBUT ME!” Hillary screeched.
“Okay. Next question.”
On screen was a woman. “This question is for Barack Obama. With Iraq possibly in a civil war and turmoil throughout the Middle East, how do you plan to stabilize that region and end America’s presence in Iraq without genocide erupting afterwards?”
Obama thought for a few moments, and finally replied, “I’m Barack Obama!” He smiled, and the audience erupted in applause. “I think I’m winning the debate!”
“Probably, next question is for Edwards.”
On screen was a man who looked like a hobo. “This is for John Edwards. What made you so interested in the cause of poverty?”
“One day I saw some people outside the front gate of my mansion. They looked like ants from so far away, but I used some binoculars and saw they were poor people. Then the most horrible thing happened: My security came out and started beating them. The government has to stop that!”
“Um… just to clarify,” Cooper said, “you’re asking for the government to stop your security guards from beating poor people?”
“Well, I can’t stop them myself; those people are large and scary. What if they got angry and damaged my fabulous hair?!” Edwards ran his hand through. “Isn’t it just luscious? Don’t you want to touch it?”
Cooper was quiet for a moment, but then he reached out his hand. “Yes… I do want to touch it…”
“Hey!” Hillary yelled. “We agreed in the ground rules that there would be no time outs to touch Edwards’s hair!”
“Fine, here’s the next question.”
On screen appeared a young woman. “This question is for Dennis Kucinich. I saw you standing in front of my neighbor’s house all week wearing a blue coat and a pointy red hat. Why was that?”
“Thanks, I get that question a lot. That’s actually a lawn gnome. A lawn gnome makes a house seem whimsical and welcoming and thus it actually accomplishes more than I do in Congress. Still, when I’m president, I want people to say, ‘Though Dennis Kucinich looks like a lawn gnome, he has actually accomplished much more than said lawn ornament.”
Hillary laughed. “Not likely. Why do I have to share the stage with this freak? When the power of America is mine, I vow never have to be as near someone as freakish as Dennis Kucinich again… except maybe for foreign diplomacy.”
Dodd raised his hand. “Do I get a question?”
“No,” Cooper replied. “I’m afraid there isn’t anyone with enough spare times on his hands — even on the internet — to videotape a question for you.”
Dodd hung his head. “Aww. Dodd sad.”
“We now — surprisingly — have a question for Joe Biden.”
A man holding a rifle appeared on screen. “I was wondering what Joe Biden thinks of gun rights and whether he’ll try and take my firearms.”
“Of course I’ll take your gun!” Biden screamed. “You’re a crazy sick man to have one! I will take your gun, lock you up, and then beat your children! Anyone who owns a gun is insane!” Biden turned towards a man off stage. “You, with the gun! You’re sick!”
The man looked confused. “I’m part of security here.”
Biden started walking towards him. “You’re insane! I’m going to take your gun! And then I’m going to stangle you! And then I’ll strangle your wife! And then I’ll–”
Biden was cut off by a gun shot.
“Well, Biden just got himself shot because of his frank language we all know and love,” Cooper said, “but since he’s only a second tier candidate, I think we can go on without him.”
“Can someone get him off stage and throw him in a dumpster?” Hillary demanded.
“He’s still alive,” Cooper answered.
“Do I look like I care? Get it done!”
Some people dragged away Biden. “This next question is for John Edwards.”
A woman with heavy makeup appeared on screen. “Senator Edwards, how do you get your hair so bouncy?”
Edwards smiled. “I’m glad you asked that question. First you need to–”
“ARE YOU TRYING TO TAKE A PICTURE OF MY PENIS?!!” Anderson screamed at Edwards.
Edwards looked completely dumbfounded. “No, I’m just–”
“You’re watching me, hoping my pants fall so you can take my picture of my penis!”
Edwards was stunned silent, but eventually he hung his head shamefully. “Yes, I was trying to take a picture of your penis. I’m sorry.” He put away his camera phone.
Anderson kept glaring at Edwards suspiciously. “The next question is for Hillary.”
A man came on screen. “Hillary Clinton, will you keep nuclear weapons on the table in your dealings with Iran?”
“I hope we can create a dialog with them and such threats won’t be necessary, but if they ever get in the way of my political ambitions, I will nuke them and any country next to them! And I will eat their children’s bones!”
“Any responses to that?” Cooper asked.
“I’m Barack Obama!” Obama smiled, and the audience erupted in applause. “I think I won the debate!”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Cooper said. “Since that’s all the Democrat idiocy FCC regulations allows for one day, that concludes our debate. Thank you for watching CNN. CNN: Even more scared of FOX News than the Democrats.”

“And this is the Capitol Building. Everyone here is stupid,” President Bush told the little Iraqi girl as he showed her around the Senate chambers.
“Why are there beds here? Are the people here homeless?” the girl asked.
Bush shrugged his shoulders. “I never know what the hell is going on here.”
“We’re going to stay up all night to make sure America retreats from Iraq!” Harry Reid declared.
“But what will happen to my family!” exclaimed the worried little girl.
Harry Reid knelt down to face her eye to eye and put his hand on her shoulder. “They’ll most likely be killed in the ensuing genocide, but know that their deaths will not be in vain because our analysts thinks the genocide will be blamed on Bush and perhaps skyrocket the Democratic Congress’s approval ratings all the way into the 20s.”
Bush chuckled. “My approval rating is already in the 20s. You guys suck.”
Reid stood up to face Bush. “We’re going to show we’re trying, and that will win over those guys on the internet!”
Bush grimaced. “The Kos Kids? You think their support will help you? Those goobers couldn’t find their wieners with two hands and MapQuest turn by turn direction from their home to their wieners.”
“Everyone uses GoogleMaps now,” the Iraqi girl said.
“Yeah, but that won’t give you directions to your wiener. I tried.” Bush turned to Reid. “I have a lot of time on my hands lately.”
“Excuse us, but we have to get our beds prepared for staying up all night.” Reid walked away to watch an aide fluff his pillows.
“I don’t understand,” the Iraqi girl said. “If they’re going to stay up all night, why do they need beds?”
“Because they’re morons and nothing they do makes sense.”
“I can’t get to sleep,” Carl Levin yelled, “Ted keeps farting!”
“Gerwarglerr!” Ted Kennedy replied.
“Jeeves, change my sheets!” Kerry called out. “I caught Byrd wearing them.”
“Are they going to sleep already?” the Iraqi girl asked. “It’s only six.”
“We’re old!” Reid answered.
Soon the Senate chambers were filled with snores. “Obviously, we have to do stuff to them while their sleeping,” Bush said. “I say let’s keep it simple and just quietly load them on a truck and dump them in the Potomac.”
“I thought you were going to show me the dinosaurs.”
“Bah, you don’t want to see that. Anyway, I heard those fossil bones are just a Jewish conspiracy to make the earth look older than it is. Now help me hot wire a truck.”

Reid was awakened when he felt himself hit cold water. “Help me! Help me!” he screamed as he splashed about in the river. He was hit in the face with an elbow as Ted Kennedy swam past like a torpedo.
“Not again!” Kennedy shouted. He was soon to shore and running away without a single glance behind him. “I need to find my lawyer!”

“End war! Ergah! Leave now!” a crazed man screamed at Senator Harry Reid. Reid slammed the door to his Senate office. He could hear people clawing at it.
“Who are these weird smelling people?” Reid asked his aide.
“Left-wing bloggers, sir. They think they’re responsible for the Democrats’ victory in ’06, and they want the Iraq War ended now.”
“How many are there?”

“Not that many, but they’re loud.”
There was more pounding at the door. “Me smirt! You listen me! You end war!”
“Fine,” Reid said. “Guess I’ll finally have to get this war ended so I can get my afternoon nap. I’m old!”

President Bush sat at his desk, twiddling his thumbs. After a while of boredom, he hit the button on the intercom and asked his receptionist, “Any calls for me?”
“No, sir. No calls for you. You’re a lame duck.”
“Awwww.” Bush sunk in his chair.
“Wait, Harry Reid is here to see you.”
“Oh. Okay. Send him in.” Harry Reid walked into the office. “Anyone ever tell you you have the worst porn name ever?”
“We need to talk about Iraq,” Reid said.
“I’ve already told you that that’s my favoritest war ever and I’m not going to end it!”
“Then maybe I have someone who will convince you otherwise — an editor from the New York Times!”
An editor from the New York Times walked into the Oval Office. “We have declared that the Iraq War must end now!”
Bush furrowed his brow. “Haven’t you guys written that exact same editorial every day since forever?”
“Yeah… but this time we mean it!”
“And you don’t care that if we pull out, there will most likely be civil war and genocide?”
“We’re pretty sure you’ll get blamed for it, so we’re okay with that.”
Bush push the button on his intercom. “Clear my schedule for the afternoon. I’m going to spend it beating an editor from the New York Times with various objects in my office.”
“There’s nothing on your schedule, sir,” the receptionist replied. “You’re a lame duck.”
“Excellent.”

“And that’s for not publishing my op-ed!” Bush yelled as he hit the editor from the New York Times with a stapler.
“We’d never publish your stupid crayon scrawl!”
“My pen was broke and crayons were all I could find!” Bush shouted back and hit him with the stapler again.
“I think that’s enough,” Tony Snow said.
Bush looked around the room. “Where did Harry Reid go?”
“I think he got bored of impotently watching you beat the editor from the New York Times so he went out in the hallway and sat down in a chair and fell asleep. He’s old.”
“Well, help me throw this guy out the window. He’ll find his way home; liberals always remember their home.”
“I believe you’re thinking of dogs.”
“Whatever. The point is, we’re throwing him out the window.” Bush and Tony picked up the editor from the New York Times and threw him out the nearest window.
“What did you just throw onto my rose bush!” Laura exclaimed from outside.
“Whoops!” Bush quickly shut the window. “So, Tony, how are things going?”
“Pretty good. No one asks questions at the press conferences anymore since you’re a lame duck and no one care what you think. Also, by your request, we checked the motorcade for Decepticons and it’s all clear.”
“Great.” Bush sat back in his desk chair.
“There are a couple problems, though. A lot of people didn’t like how you commuted Scooter Libby’s sentence.”
“Well, if they saw his sad puppy dog eyes, they would have commuted his prison sentence too!”
“Also, more Republicans seems to be defecting on Iraq and not letting the surge play through.”
Bush nodded thoughtfully. “These are the times where we find out which Republicans have testicles and which ones only have the ‘I Can’t Believe It’s Not Testicles!’ testicle substitute. I’m not backing down on the war. I already lost all my popularity because of the ‘Not Amnesty at All’ for Mexicans debacle.” He leaned close to Tony and whispered. “I’ll tell you a secret: It was really amnesty all along.”
“I don’t think that was a secret, sir.”
“Anyway, the point is that no matter what I do, I can’t get any more unpopular, so I’m going to see this war through no matter how weak and whiny the rest of the politicians get.”
“I think that’s admirable.”
Bush thought for a moment. “Hmm… since I can’t get any more unpopular, maybe I should form some death squads to eliminate my opponents.”
“What?!”
“Squads of death. They’re like a squad that goes around killing people.”
“I know what a death squad is, Mr. President; I’m just saying maybe you should rethink that idea.”
Tony Snow left the room. “I don’t know why death squads get such bad raps,” Bush said to himself. He hit the button on his intercom. “Any calls for me.”
“No, sir. You’re still a lame duck.”
“I’m going to vandalize entries on Wikipedia for the rest of the day.”
“You don’t have to tell me; no one cares what you do.”
“Excellent.”

Tony Snow sighed and entered the Oval Office. “You know, conservatives are actually kinda scary when you’re on their firing end. I hate asking again, but I don’t quite understand why you’re so averse to securing the border and why you want to grant amnesty to illegals so bad.”
President Bush motioned to Tony to close the door and come closer. He then whispered, “I never told anyone this, but I’m secretly an illegal Mexican.”
“Um… I don’t think so, Mr. President; I know your parents.”
Bush shook his head. “They told me they found me as a baby in a well in Mexico.”
“You sure they weren’t joking?”
Bush leaned back in his chair. “I’m never sure of anything, and that’s never stopped me from acting. We need to get this bill passed so I won’t get deported. Now go out tell the Republicans who are against this bill that they just hate brown people. Have Linda Chavez go out and do that too… and tell her to lay her accent on thick.”
“She doesn’t have an accent.”
Bush pounded his desk. “Then tell her to get one!”
“Sir, I don’t really understand how insulting Republicans is going to help things.”
“Well, which one of us is the President and which one of us is the… uh… whatever you do?”
“White House Press Secretary?”
“Yeah, that.”
Bush kept staring at Tony, and eventually Tony realized that he was expected to answer the rhetorical question. “Um… I’m the guy who does whatever I do.”
Bush jabbed himself with his thumb. “And I’m the President!”
Tony was about to leave, but he stopped. “So this is really about you thinking you’re Mexican? I thought this was all some Karl Rove scheme to try and pander for Hispanic votes.”
“No. Karl Rove doesn’t actually exist; he’s just a fiction we put out there.”
“What?! Why would you make up Karl Rove?”
“Well, the thought of him scares and distracts my political opponents.” Bush was silent a moment thinking. “The complete reasoning is pretty complicated; only Karl Rove is smart enough to understand it all. Anyway, if you see a Republican that’s against amnesty, punch him and tell him he’s stupid. That will get those stupid Mexican-haters on our side.”
Tony sighed. “The Republican Party was fun while it lasted.”
Bush chuckled. “It was a wild ride.” Bush then stared intently at an empty space on the wall. “No! You can’t have my bologna sandwich, Rove! And you stop putting evil thoughts in my brain!”
Tony hurried out of the office and spotted Karl Rove in the hall. “Do you know the President thinks he’s seeing you?”
Karl Rove smiled. “And who do you think you’re seeing? Muh ha ha ha ha!” He then disappeared into shadow.
“I really should have stayed at FOX News.”

“I think you Mexicans will find this new amnesty plan to be very generous,” President Bush told the group of Mexicans assembled at the table in front of him. “You just have to pay your fines and back taxes and then you’re all set.”
“Why should we pay your taxes, Gringo?” the head Mexican asked. “We’re Mexican; we don’t pay your taxes. You give us amnesty without back taxes!”
Bush thought about that. “Okay… I guess you don’t need to pay taxes. Just pay the fines and everything will be even-Steven.”
“The fines are too much. We don’t want to pay no fines!”
“Half-fines, then.”
“Why should we pay any fines? You guys tricked us over here! We were happy in Mexico.”
“Well… I guess fines might be harsh, then.”
“You pay us!”
“What?”
“You pay us to apologize for hassling us for crossing into land which is really ours! You do it or we leave!!”
“No no! Don’t leave!” Bush pulled out his wallet. “I have twenty bucks; how’s that?”
The head Mexican snatched the twenty dollar bill. “That will do… for now.”
“So when do they get to vote?” Nancy Pelosi chimed in. “Can they vote tomorrow?”
“There’s not an election tomorrow.”
“Why don’t we give them all the vote and hold an election tomorrow!” Pelosi exclaimed.
“I don’t know about voting,” the head Mexican said. “You aren’t going to make us pay taxes in the future so we can vote, are you?”
“Well… you kinda have to pay taxes to be citizens,” Bush said sheepishly.
“Maybe we don’t want to be citizens. Maybe we want to come here, do whatever we want, and not pay taxes.”
“And vote!” Pelosi shouted. “Don’t forget to vote!” She turned to Bush. “Why don’t we just let all Mexicans vote as part of the compromise?”
“And we want bridges,” the Mexican said. “We hate getting wet crossing over here. Build us bridges!”
“I don’t know if the Republican base will like allowing all Mexicans to come over here and do whatever they want and vote.”
“And the border guards annoying us,” the head Mexican said. “We want you to murder them.”
“I really think my Republican base isn’t going to like us sanctioning the murder of border patrol agents,” Bush said.
“Why not?” Pelosi asked. “It’s because they hate brown people, that’s why. You’re either for murdering border patrol or you hate brown people!”
“You better do it!” the head Mexican threatened. “Or we’ll stop picking your lettuce!”
Bush stood up in shock. “But lettuce in the basis of a garden salad! What would salad be without it!”
“That’s why you better think of what’s more important to you: Us Mexicans or your Republican base!” The Mexicans all got up to leave. “We’re taking some chairs with us. For our next meeting, make sure you know how to speak Spanish.”
The Mexicans grabbed chairs from the meeting table and left the room. “Don’t forget to register to vote!” Pelosi called out to them. “Actually, registering isn’t important; just show up to the polls.” She turned to Bush. “I think this compromise on immigration is turning out very well.”
Bush frowned. “Yeah, but you’re a soulless harpy. I’m more worried about what Republicans are going to think.”

“How has it been going explaining to the Republican base that the reason they have a problem with the immigration bill is because they hate brown people?” Bush asked Tony Snow.
“I’ve been hit in the head with a beer bottle three times so far.” He rubbed his temple. “You know, it hurts more when it doesn’t shatter.”
“Of course I know that!” Bush shouted. “Aren’t they happy that we’re giving them the fence they want to satiate their brown people hatred?”
“They like the fence, but they’re not thrilled about the air conditioned walkways you’re going to build over the fence. This bill really seems to be hurting the last bit of approval rating you have. Most of the Republican Presidential candidates are scoring points off of bashing the plan; Tom Tancredo has gone up three points in the polls vowing that, if Mexicans continue to invade, he’ll nuke Mecca. Also, Jimmy Carter called you the worst president in history.”
“What?!” Bush exclaimed. “Worst out of all the presidents? Himself included?”
Tony nodded. “He said your so bad, he’d almost think that you’re a Jew.”
Bush thought for a moment. “With all the uproar — especially from Republican voters — I’m starting to wonder if we Republican politicians miscalculated on this bill.” He shook his head. “No. The last thing I should do is listen to other people. You stick to the message, Snowman, and tell all the Republicans that the only reason they are angry is because they hate brown people. Tell them to stop worrying since it’s not like this problem will go on forever since eventually all the Mexicans will sneak in here and then illegal immigration will stop for good.” Bush thought for a moment. “Well, we might still have some Guatemalans sneak in, but they’ll have to trek through what will then be the vast wasteland of Mexico, and most of them should die in the journey.” He looked back at Tony. “So tell the angry Republicans that most of the Guatemalans will die. That should make them happy. Oh, but only tell them in Spanish; they all need to start learning that language/”
Tony looked pretty nervous. “Maybe I should focus more on talking up how things are going in Iraq.”
Bush jumped to his feet. “Hey! I have an idea! Maybe we can solve things in Iraq by having an open border there too!”
“Actually, part a big part of the problem is terrorists slipping in through the porous Syrian and Iranian borders.”
“Is that what the Iraqis say?” Bush sat back down. “I think what’s really the problem is that the Iraqis hate brown people.”

President Bush took a moment’s break from stabbing a potato with a newly sharpened pencil to look up at his visitor. “Hey, good to see you, Snowman! Wow, you’re really are looking better after that illness. I mean, you look years younger. You grew breasts, though; you might want to have the doctors look into that. Maybe it’s a side effect of one of your medications.”
“I’m Dana Perino; I’ve been filling in for Tony Snow while he recuperating. Remember?”
Bush mulled that one over. “No. Not ringing a bell. I’m going to call you ‘Ari’ because it’s easier to remember. Whatcha need, Ari?”
“I just needed to know if you have any input before this next press conference.”
Bush thought about it. “No. I don’t really care about anything anymore… or what anyone does. Just say whatever you feel like, Ari. You could make stuff up; that would be fun. Oh, but make sure you make our contempt for the press clear.”
“Is there any new direction you want me to take when answering questions about global warming?”
“Well… summer is coming up, so tell the press that it’s supposed to warm so they aren’t surprised.”
Dana wrote that down. “That’s actually one of the more sensible things you told me.”
Bush laughed. “You have moxie. I think I’m now going to call you ‘White Condi.'”

“Harry Reid had some strong words on the war in Iraq,” the anchorman said. Video of Harry Reid giving a speech was then shown.
“We’ve lost in Iraq! It’s all over! We’re losers! The troops think they’re fighting, but all they’re doing is losing! And they deserve to lose, because they’re losers!”

“Remember when I tried to explain a chart about greenhouse gases to you? Many of you started crying.”

“When Vice President Dick Cheney criticized Senator Reid’s ‘defeatist’ attitude and accused him of demoralizing the troops, Senator Reid called Cheney an ‘attack dog,'” the anchorman said. “We go now live to a White House press conference.”
“I’d just like to reiterate the White House’s absolute contempt for you barely literate morons who ask me questions,” Dana Perino told the reporters. “On a personal note, I’m starting to believe that Tony Snow’s illness was simply his body protesting be subjected to such idiocy. Now, what are your questions?”
“The lights in here are too bright.” one reporter said.
Dana sighed. “That’s a statement, not a question.”
“What are the lights in here are too bright,” the reporter tried again.
“Go play in traffic,” Dana said. “Next question.”
“When Cheney found out he was called an ‘attack dog,’ he drove a car into Senator Reid’s living room and broke Reid’s kneecaps with a bat. Doesn’t that prove Senator Reid’s point?”
“Dogs can’t drive cars or wield bats, so no.”
“Senator Reid’s knees have been broken many times by this administration, and he’s now having a lot of trouble walking.”
“Again, that’s not a question. Furthermore, we don’t care. If Democrats like walking, they should be more concerned about not making Vice President Cheney angry. We’ve warned you before that Cheney is not a stable man and he doesn’t feel compassion or empathy.”
“Representative Dennis Kucinich recently issued articles for impeachment of Cheney. He seemed to dissappear right after, but later he was found standing on Cheney’s lawn in a blue coat and wearing a red pointy hat and he would not answer our questions. Do you know why?”
“Because lawn gnomes don’t talk. Any other questions?”
“With visionaries like Sheryl Crow concerned about global warming, shouldn’t the White House take a tougher stance?”
“Once again, I want to remind you that celebrities are exceptionally stupid people,” Dana said. “I know you reporters think they’re smart, but that’s because you are very dumb yourselves. This is an issue of science, and thus you should all stay away from it because there is no chance of you even understanding the slightest thing about it. Remember when I tried to explain a chart about greenhouse gases to you? Many of you started crying.”
“That’s because you yelled!”
“Five of you asked what carbon dioxide is at different point throughout the presentation. I thought maybe raising my voice would help you remember. It was useless, though. I don’t know who’s idea it was that the White House should regularly answer questions from people much dumber than the average American, but this is obviously a failed concept.”
“What is carbon dioxide?” a reporter asked. “I hear it’s dangerous.”
“Does Cheney make carbon dioxide?” another reporter asked. “If so, how does Halliburton profit off of it?”
A reporter ran forward. “Did the Bush Administration claim that Saddam had carbon dioxide so as to invade Iraq? Also, isn’t it true none was ever found?”
“You are all insults to the First Amendment,” Dana shouted. “I really hope you die soon in some horrible–”
“White Condi!” Bush yelled as he ran into the briefing room. “Have you seen the football?” He then noticed one of the reporters and immediately took off a shoe and started beating the reporter in the head with it. He turned back to Dana. “I recognized him from a zombie movie — or maybe it was CNN — so I decided I better beat him with my shoe. Now my foot is cold. Could I have one of your shoes?”
“No.”
“Then you’re mean!” He looked at the press. “Everyone be careful; I heard there was a carbon dioxide leak in the building.”

“…and that’s why education is important,” President Bush told the second graders. “Any questions?”
A little boy raised his hand. “No one likes you.”

Bush glared at him. “That’s not a question.”
A little girl raised her hand. “Will Hillary Clinton eat my soul if she gets elected?”
Bush thought about that. “Eh… probably. Of course, I’m not going to president in 2009 no matter how elections go, so it’s not my problem. Now, a lot of people suspect that Senator Clinton is filled with some sort of supernatural evil that corrupts everything around her… but that’s also part of her appeal and what makes her a shrewd politician. Any other questions?”
“No one likes you.”
“THAT’S NOT A QUESTION!”

“I hate children,” Bush told Laura.
“Shh. I’m watching The View.”
Bush sat down in an easy chair to watch.
“The government lies to us!” Rosie O’Donnell screamed. “They poisoned the pet food to bring attention away from their illegal war in Iraq!”
“I just don’t think there’s any proof to that assertion,” Elizabeth Hasselbeck said.
“YOU SHUT UP, YOU WHORE!” The massive Rosie stood up and flailed her arms around like a panicked elephant, knocking over furniture. “BUSH TOOK DOWN THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND CAPTURED THE BRITISH SAILORS HIMSELF! YOU’RE BLIND IF YOU DON’T SEE THAT!” She threw a chair at Elizabeth. “FIRE CAN’T MELT STEEL! FIRE BAD! FIRE–”
A snare enclosed around Rosie’s legs and hefted her up into the air, hanging her upside down over the stage.
“Just let her hang upside down a bit until she calms down,” Barbara Walters said. She turned to the audience. “By the way, everyone here is getting Homedics Personal Massager.”
The audience cheered.
“I don’t get this show,” Bush said. “Barbara Walters talks about news and women’s crap with three mentally retarded people. Isn’t it wrong for them to be exploited like this for us to laugh at them?”
Laura shook her head. “I like this show.”
“And who is that Joy Behar?”
Laura shrugged. “I think she’s a comedian.”
Bush grimaced. “Just because you go on stage and people laugh at you, doesn’t make you a comedian.”
Dangling from the air, Rosie’s voice began to dwindle. “Scientists show fire no melt steel… talk to Harvard and Yale…”
“I don’t know about Yale,” Joy said, laughing nervously at her yet unspoken lame joke. “That’s where Bush went to college.”
Bush laughed. “She thinks she’s smarter than me; that’s cute.” He noticed a newspaper on the coffee table. “Hey! A paper with news on it!” He picked it up and looked inside. “I can’t believe Pelosi actually wore a full veil in her Middle East visit.”
“The weird thing is that it was when she was meeting with the Israeli prime minister.”
Bush set down the paper. “I always ask her to cover her face when talking to me, but she never listens.”
“So how have things gone with getting the Democrats to support the war?” Laura asked.
“Same old.”

Tied to the hood of a car, speeding head on into traffic, Harry Reid wouldn’t stop screaming.
“Could you be quiet for a second?” Bush was doing the best he could to avoid a head on collision as he steered the car. “I’m just trying to get your attention to explain something to you. See, you say the war is a huge waste, and yet you want to fund it for a year with a date set for certain failure. I really think the whole reason you’re doing this is for political purposes and to appease those wiener kids on the internets. You understand what I’m saying?”
As he saw more headlights racing towards him and narrowly missing, Harry Reid continued to scream.
“If you had any integrity — or balls — you’d either vote to defund the war now or get off my back. Now hold on; we’re going into a tunnel.”

“That reminds me: I need to issue myself another pardon.”
“You have to be careful with that,” Laura chided him. “Your approval rating is bad enough.”
Bush scoffed. “I’m going to be unpopular when I leave office no matter what, so I might as well focus on what’s important: Winning this war to keep America safe, free, and full of illegal Mexicans.”
Evil laughter echoed from the shadows.
Laura looked around. “You ever wonder what Karl Rove wants those Mexicans for?”
“Far as I understand, it’s some grand political strategy… or he’s abducting them and chopping them up to make cheap hot dogs.”
Laura nodded. “So when do you think we’ll have a war with Iran?”
Bush shrugged his shoulders. “Later next week… I think.”