Thank you. My fellow citizens: I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors. The words have been spoken during rising tides of prosperity and the still waters of peace. Yet, every so often the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. And that is why I am officially resigning as your Commander In Chief.
I know this comes as a crushing disappointment to all of you gathered here today, as well as over half of this great nation. But seriously, I've been thinking a lot about all the problems this country faces, and while I have a lot of confidence in myself, I don't think I'm up to the task of trying fix everything. You got the economy, Iraq, Afghanistan, health care, immigration, education, etc. In short, this country is pretty fucked. I'm a capable and competent man, no doubt, but there is no way I'm going to be able to being to unravel this mess. I'm just being realistic.
I would like to urge you to not be too judgmental. I mean, people get cold feet all the time. Folks back out of buying and selling homes...well, the ones that haven't been foreclosed on. People welsh on dinner plans. Individuals leave fiances at the altar. Happens more often than you think. And sure, it hurts. But 6 months later, after people hit rock bottom and sober up, they start to put their lives back together. The same will be true for you. Needless to say, you will all go on a very self-destructive tear. But a year from now, you'll look back on this and be grateful I had the maturity and wisdom to see that I really didn't want to do this.
I'll admit, the past couple of months have been a blast. Picking people to fill posts. Attending parties and receiving well-wishes from all over the planet. That part has been very enjoyable. But I was sitting there the other night after having watched "Vantage Point," "JFK," and "Wag The Dog" and it hit me: Being President really looks like a lot of work, not to mention insanely dangerous. Are you really expecting to sacrifice my personal safety, as well as the safety of my family just to sit there and take the blame for all the shitty things that happen to this country? No thank you.
Also, Joe Biden wanted me to tell you that he's not interested either. In fact, I think he's already left for Delaware.
So, where do we go from here? I don't bail on people without making sure they are in good hands. That's why I have transfered control of the country to the highest bidder, which, as of earlier this morning, is Mr. Tom Cruise. I know, I was surprised too. But with the economy the way it is, not many companies were in a position to make the bids I expected. But there was Mr. Cruise, at the last minute, with something like, $48 billion. Which is way more than I would've received from lobbyists, no matter how many terms I was in office. So you don't need to worry about me. The Obama's are going to be all right, in our island in an undisclosed location which I've purchased.
So in closing, let me say that it's been fun, America. You have had a hand in shaping history by electing the first black President. But I took it one step further and made history by resigning after only being in office for twenty minutes. Suck on that. I will now turn it over to Tom Cruise, who will begin by explaining his national fertility initiative and policy regarding the sacrificing of first born children to his god. Speaking of god, God bless. Barack out!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
The writers of "Lost" re-write the Bible story of Noah: Pt. 1
We open on Noah, startled awake on a pile of straw. He is surrounded by a bizarre menagerie. He stumbles around what appears to be stable after stable inhabited by tigers, moose, anacondas, chinchillas and the like. He catches the glimpse of a figure passing in the distance from one stable to the next. Noah chases after the figure, but when he gets to the stable where he saw it enter, there is only a pair of wolves mating. He turns to look out a nearby window and sees nothing but a vast ocean and pouring rain.
(Whoosh)
Noah is younger and sitting in his tent, drawing crude pictures of what will eventually be the ark. His youngest son Japheth enters and tells his father that he is ready for a second wife. Noah discusses the possibility of marrying Ham's oldest daughter, as there are no other people on the planet at this time, except the evil-doers who will soon be drowned.
(Whoosh)
(Whoosh)
Noah is younger and sitting in his tent, drawing crude pictures of what will eventually be the ark. His youngest son Japheth enters and tells his father that he is ready for a second wife. Noah discusses the possibility of marrying Ham's oldest daughter, as there are no other people on the planet at this time, except the evil-doers who will soon be drowned.
(Whoosh)
Mrs. Noah is on the ark, trying to recapture a pair of black widow spiders that got loose. Noah enters the scene and Mrs. Noah scolds him for being drunk and passing out. Noah tells her he had the dream again about the colorful streaks in the sky. Mrs. Noah tells him to go shovel the rhinoceros diarrhea.
Ham shoots down Japheth's idea of using the birds' eggs as food for other animals. Ham is rather curt with Japheth. When Japheth leaves, Ham goes and makes out with a camel.
(Whoosh)
Ham is yelling at his Noah about the giving of his daugther to Japheth. Noah tries to reason with Ham that he has given Ham more cloaks and concubines than Japheth over the past few years and that Ham shouldn't take offense at this. Ham storms off.
(Whoosh)
Sham's wife tells him that he is by far the smartest man on the boat and should be in charge. Sham at first rejects this idea, but starts to consider it once his wife tells him that she had a dream that Sham lead the boat to safety.
(Whoosh)
Sham is tracking the path of a shadow of some sticks he's planted in the dirt. Ham comes up and kicks them away and mocks Sham's weak stature and tells Sham what a loser Sham is. Ham brags to Sham that he's twelve and now old enough to marry his ten year old sister. Sham tells Ham he is a brute. Ham punches Sham and starts beating him until Mrs. Noah breaks it up.
(Whoosh)
Noah walks through the stalls at night, checking on all the animals. Japheth comes to him and tells him he feels bad for taking Ham's daughter as his wife. Noah tells him it's okay. Japheth leaves.
Noah notices the figure in the distance again. He runs to catch up to it. When he gets there, he sees a man. When Noah asks who he is, the man replies that he is one of the "evil-doers" who almost drowned. When Noah tries to remove the man, he tells Noah that he better not tell anyone about him or he will kill everyone aboard.
"Noah"
Ham shoots down Japheth's idea of using the birds' eggs as food for other animals. Ham is rather curt with Japheth. When Japheth leaves, Ham goes and makes out with a camel.
(Whoosh)
Ham is yelling at his Noah about the giving of his daugther to Japheth. Noah tries to reason with Ham that he has given Ham more cloaks and concubines than Japheth over the past few years and that Ham shouldn't take offense at this. Ham storms off.
(Whoosh)
Sham's wife tells him that he is by far the smartest man on the boat and should be in charge. Sham at first rejects this idea, but starts to consider it once his wife tells him that she had a dream that Sham lead the boat to safety.
(Whoosh)
Sham is tracking the path of a shadow of some sticks he's planted in the dirt. Ham comes up and kicks them away and mocks Sham's weak stature and tells Sham what a loser Sham is. Ham brags to Sham that he's twelve and now old enough to marry his ten year old sister. Sham tells Ham he is a brute. Ham punches Sham and starts beating him until Mrs. Noah breaks it up.
(Whoosh)
Noah walks through the stalls at night, checking on all the animals. Japheth comes to him and tells him he feels bad for taking Ham's daughter as his wife. Noah tells him it's okay. Japheth leaves.
Noah notices the figure in the distance again. He runs to catch up to it. When he gets there, he sees a man. When Noah asks who he is, the man replies that he is one of the "evil-doers" who almost drowned. When Noah tries to remove the man, he tells Noah that he better not tell anyone about him or he will kill everyone aboard.
"Noah"
"Sound of Music" director's cut, if the director is a 7th grade boy
1. The scene where Christopher Plummer slaps Leisl on the ass with the book.
2. The line where the Baroness tells Christopher Plummer that she's known for throwing some rather "gay" parties.
3. The line in "My Favorite Things" where Julie Andrews asks the children what their favorite things are, and one of the kids yells "Pussywillows!"
4. Anytime sometime calls Christopher Plummer's character name, Georg, which is pronounced "Gay-org."
5. The line that Max has where he asks the kids "What's wrong with you bunch of gloomy pusses?"
Total running time of director's cut, not including pause for laughter and follow-up jokes :23 seconds.
2. The line where the Baroness tells Christopher Plummer that she's known for throwing some rather "gay" parties.
3. The line in "My Favorite Things" where Julie Andrews asks the children what their favorite things are, and one of the kids yells "Pussywillows!"
4. Anytime sometime calls Christopher Plummer's character name, Georg, which is pronounced "Gay-org."
5. The line that Max has where he asks the kids "What's wrong with you bunch of gloomy pusses?"
Total running time of director's cut, not including pause for laughter and follow-up jokes :23 seconds.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
From the Diary of Samuel W. Thornchesterworthingbergerton the 23rd of Dec., 1899
A merry Yuletide to all!
As this year draws his last gasps, I feel a matter of great import must be disclosed: namely, our Christmas letter. So sit back with your tea, coffee, or glass of absinthe, and enjoy reliving some fantastic moments in our year.
For starters, my son, Uriah, returned home from the war with the Spaniards. Although my great luxury afforded him a position well out of combat, we are nonetheless grateful for his safe return. Puzzlingly enough, he brought home a war comrade named Ernest, who rarely leaves his side. War has certainly brought these two gentlemen together. Why, one day, I found them in our pantry and Ernest was trying to help Uriah with the buttons on his pantaloons. Those two will have many days with their future wives and families to reminiscence about their war days.
On a sour note, my daughter has eloped with a common "newsie" as they are called. It seems she was rather emotionally invested in their strike over the summer. "Damn the lot of them!" I say. I was a newsie as a lad and was beaten with sticks if my yelling ceased for longer than three seconds and it made me the man I am today! I am never quiet for more than three seconds at a time. Our daughter has married him and is living in utter squalor on the east side of the city. "Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Disgraceful daughter disowned by noble father!" I always have the last laugh!
My wife, Helene, had a scare earlier this year when she nearly choked on a biscuit. However, thanks to the whalebone corset holding her waist at an admirable 14 inch circumference, we were able to extract the rogue morsel and help her regain consciousness. She still has trouble navigating corners and doors, but for the most part is well on the road to recovery!
A new marvelous zoo has opened up in the Bronx, and we are quite fond of taking family trips to observe the tiger, the ape, and the elephant. I suggested to Helene that their zoo would be incomplete without her mother on display. I spoke this quite loudly (using my "newsie" voice) and drew quite a few chuckles from the crowd. Helene, had she truly understood my sarcasm (another side-effect of not breathing for several minutes), would've been very upset, but merely said she didn't think her mother would appreciate being hosed down for her morning bath.
Our year has had its ups and downs, and as we near the end of the century, many are predicting doom and the apocalypse. However, I say let it come! And take that bastard William McKinley with it!
Glorious yule!
S.W.T.
As this year draws his last gasps, I feel a matter of great import must be disclosed: namely, our Christmas letter. So sit back with your tea, coffee, or glass of absinthe, and enjoy reliving some fantastic moments in our year.
For starters, my son, Uriah, returned home from the war with the Spaniards. Although my great luxury afforded him a position well out of combat, we are nonetheless grateful for his safe return. Puzzlingly enough, he brought home a war comrade named Ernest, who rarely leaves his side. War has certainly brought these two gentlemen together. Why, one day, I found them in our pantry and Ernest was trying to help Uriah with the buttons on his pantaloons. Those two will have many days with their future wives and families to reminiscence about their war days.
On a sour note, my daughter has eloped with a common "newsie" as they are called. It seems she was rather emotionally invested in their strike over the summer. "Damn the lot of them!" I say. I was a newsie as a lad and was beaten with sticks if my yelling ceased for longer than three seconds and it made me the man I am today! I am never quiet for more than three seconds at a time. Our daughter has married him and is living in utter squalor on the east side of the city. "Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Disgraceful daughter disowned by noble father!" I always have the last laugh!
My wife, Helene, had a scare earlier this year when she nearly choked on a biscuit. However, thanks to the whalebone corset holding her waist at an admirable 14 inch circumference, we were able to extract the rogue morsel and help her regain consciousness. She still has trouble navigating corners and doors, but for the most part is well on the road to recovery!
A new marvelous zoo has opened up in the Bronx, and we are quite fond of taking family trips to observe the tiger, the ape, and the elephant. I suggested to Helene that their zoo would be incomplete without her mother on display. I spoke this quite loudly (using my "newsie" voice) and drew quite a few chuckles from the crowd. Helene, had she truly understood my sarcasm (another side-effect of not breathing for several minutes), would've been very upset, but merely said she didn't think her mother would appreciate being hosed down for her morning bath.
Our year has had its ups and downs, and as we near the end of the century, many are predicting doom and the apocalypse. However, I say let it come! And take that bastard William McKinley with it!
Glorious yule!
S.W.T.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Celebrity Dictionary, Vol. 2
LaBeouf (Shia LaBeouf) - (n) The hair that accumulates in a hair brush. "Dude, you must be going bald, because I pull so much LaBeouf out of the brush when you're done with it."
Gambon (Michael Gambon) - (n) The word for the stool which an outfield batboy sits on when not warming up with an outfielder. "Ken Griffey made such a poor throw, it hit the batboy's gambon and broke it. He will have to sit in the dirt now."
Gyllenhaal (Maggie or Jake Gyllenhaal) - 1. (n) a book or binder specifically used by an adolescent boy to hide an erection. 2. (v) The act of using a book or binder to hide an erection. "Look, dude! Either Byron's reading 'The Color Purple' for the eleventh time this week, or he's Gyllenhaaling again."
Duchovny (David Duchovny) - (adj.) Equal feelings of sexual arousal and nausea. "There's something about Kiera Knightly's jaw that is just so Duchovny. It's weird."
Theron (Charlize Theron) - (n) The shreds of toilet paper left on a roll that is empty. "My lady took a dump and then just left a bunch of therons on the roll. Didn't even bother to change it."
Gambon (Michael Gambon) - (n) The word for the stool which an outfield batboy sits on when not warming up with an outfielder. "Ken Griffey made such a poor throw, it hit the batboy's gambon and broke it. He will have to sit in the dirt now."
Gyllenhaal (Maggie or Jake Gyllenhaal) - 1. (n) a book or binder specifically used by an adolescent boy to hide an erection. 2. (v) The act of using a book or binder to hide an erection. "Look, dude! Either Byron's reading 'The Color Purple' for the eleventh time this week, or he's Gyllenhaaling again."
Duchovny (David Duchovny) - (adj.) Equal feelings of sexual arousal and nausea. "There's something about Kiera Knightly's jaw that is just so Duchovny. It's weird."
Theron (Charlize Theron) - (n) The shreds of toilet paper left on a roll that is empty. "My lady took a dump and then just left a bunch of therons on the roll. Didn't even bother to change it."
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Rejected Scripts for On-Line Match.com ads
1. Girl in business attire sitting at home office. Coyly playing with a pencil in her mouth. Types. Smiles. Giggles. Removes glasses. Then removes glass eye.
2. Girl in low cut sweater, sipping coffee at computer. Makes a face at her coffee. Stares out the window. Picks up a stack of papers and rifles through them. Smiles. Giggles. Watches computer. Lights up a cigarette. Looks off into the distance. Takes another sip from her lukewarm coffee and says, "Don't worry Maroney. We'll find the son of a bitch that killed you. I know he's out there." Undoes her ponytail.
3. Girl in button up shirt "discovers" her computer and web-cam. Types. Smiles. Giggles. Takes out small revolver. Spins chamber. Puts it to her head and pulls the trigger. Giggles. Types. Giggles. Takes out lip-stick and writes backwards on screen "Green June Uriah." Giggles. Types. Giggles. Takes off shirt to reveal pink tank-top. Lights a candle and holds her arm over the flame. Makes pouty lips.
2. Girl on sofa, clearly passed out. Wakes up. Vomits. Looks into webcam with bloodshot eyes and the vacuous stare of someone trying to piece the previous night together. Small horse wearing top hat enters the background.
2. Girl in low cut sweater, sipping coffee at computer. Makes a face at her coffee. Stares out the window. Picks up a stack of papers and rifles through them. Smiles. Giggles. Watches computer. Lights up a cigarette. Looks off into the distance. Takes another sip from her lukewarm coffee and says, "Don't worry Maroney. We'll find the son of a bitch that killed you. I know he's out there." Undoes her ponytail.
3. Girl in button up shirt "discovers" her computer and web-cam. Types. Smiles. Giggles. Takes out small revolver. Spins chamber. Puts it to her head and pulls the trigger. Giggles. Types. Giggles. Takes out lip-stick and writes backwards on screen "Green June Uriah." Giggles. Types. Giggles. Takes off shirt to reveal pink tank-top. Lights a candle and holds her arm over the flame. Makes pouty lips.
2. Girl on sofa, clearly passed out. Wakes up. Vomits. Looks into webcam with bloodshot eyes and the vacuous stare of someone trying to piece the previous night together. Small horse wearing top hat enters the background.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Letters to Dr. House
Dear Dr. House,
I am a caucasian male, 42. I suffer from a variety of symptoms that include anal bleeding, crooked eyebrow, and jelly knee. Can you help me? My condition is preventing from living my life-long dream of being appealing.
Sincerely,
Greg in DesMoines
Dear Greg,
I am not a doctor. I am an actor who plays a doctor for a fictional t.v. drama, which airs Mondays nights on FOX. I can do nothing to help your disgusting condition. However, it just so happens that "jelly knee" is the featured disease on next weeks episode, so please make sure you and all your friends watch it. Now please leave me alone.
Dr. House
*************************************************************************************
Dear Dr. House,
Help me, I'm dying! At least I think I'm dying. I am a twenty-four year old woman and yes, I am over-weight. I want lipo-suction, but my doctor tells me it would put me at a major health risk as I am a heavy bleeder. Please save me!
Tammy, Athens (Georgia)
Dear Tammy,
I don't know how you got my address, especially since you believe me to be Dr. House who has a fictional address on the hit t.v. show airing Monday nights on FOX. However, you sound nice. Maybe you should focus on your personality. Also, if you ever lose the weight, please send your old clothes to my friend Pedro. He's an artist who's doing this installation and he needs fat people clothing. It's hard to explain, you really just need to see it. Just send them when you stop being fat.
Sincerely,
Dr. House
*************************************************************************************
Dear Dr. House,
I am an 8-year old boy who has a rare disorder. My parents tell me I am cursed by god. Can I come stay at your hospital so you can solve my case at the last possible second with some treatment that breaks all the rules and beats all the odds?
Sincerely,
Eric, Chicago
Dear Eric,
Is your mom hot?
Sincerely,
Dr. House
I am a caucasian male, 42. I suffer from a variety of symptoms that include anal bleeding, crooked eyebrow, and jelly knee. Can you help me? My condition is preventing from living my life-long dream of being appealing.
Sincerely,
Greg in DesMoines
Dear Greg,
I am not a doctor. I am an actor who plays a doctor for a fictional t.v. drama, which airs Mondays nights on FOX. I can do nothing to help your disgusting condition. However, it just so happens that "jelly knee" is the featured disease on next weeks episode, so please make sure you and all your friends watch it. Now please leave me alone.
Dr. House
*************************************************************************************
Dear Dr. House,
Help me, I'm dying! At least I think I'm dying. I am a twenty-four year old woman and yes, I am over-weight. I want lipo-suction, but my doctor tells me it would put me at a major health risk as I am a heavy bleeder. Please save me!
Tammy, Athens (Georgia)
Dear Tammy,
I don't know how you got my address, especially since you believe me to be Dr. House who has a fictional address on the hit t.v. show airing Monday nights on FOX. However, you sound nice. Maybe you should focus on your personality. Also, if you ever lose the weight, please send your old clothes to my friend Pedro. He's an artist who's doing this installation and he needs fat people clothing. It's hard to explain, you really just need to see it. Just send them when you stop being fat.
Sincerely,
Dr. House
*************************************************************************************
Dear Dr. House,
I am an 8-year old boy who has a rare disorder. My parents tell me I am cursed by god. Can I come stay at your hospital so you can solve my case at the last possible second with some treatment that breaks all the rules and beats all the odds?
Sincerely,
Eric, Chicago
Dear Eric,
Is your mom hot?
Sincerely,
Dr. House
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