Trump Speaks To Republicans In New Hampshire

People of New Hampshire and the rest of the important states… like Iowa…

Nobody here from Iowa? I was told there would be. Hmm. Obviously someone needs to be fired. Well for those of you here, I want you all to listen very carefully. I’m only going to repeat this possibly one hundred times in the next few days on any outlet I can muscle my way into.

Do I have your attention? Listen, you people- I’m SO serious. Turn off your phones because what I have to say is a thousand times more important than whoever could be calling or texting you in the next few minutes. Let me put it this way… if I don’t get your full attention, you’re fired. Trust me, I will find a way.

Are we ready now? Good. First off I want to talk about Obama in the poll I conducted in the Trumpousine on the way here. I asked all my people this: Do you believe Donald Trump was indeed responsible for single-handedly getting Obama to finally release his long-form birth certificate.

Okay I admit, it wasn’t really a question. But they all quickly and enthusiastically answered with a firm, ‘YES.’

That is, all but one. And do you want to know why I’m going to tell you this? Because hopefully we all can learn something here. This person had the audacity and misfortune of being of the alien species known as FEMALE. And whatever she said isn’t important or relevant since I could never relate to her anyway. SO. I said to her, ‘You’re fired.’

SO. As far as the birth certificate goes, it’s like this… Trump: 100; Media: 0; Obama: -1,000; Alien chick: -900.

Money-money-money-money… money!
Money-money-money-money…

Oh. Excuse me for just one sec. I gotta take this. Be back in one sec.

Thanks for waiting twenty minutes. I’m really glad because I’d hate to have to fire any of you. I really appreciate you saving me those calls.

Now I want to talk about jobs, which is my strength. It’s true, I own a lot of businesses, but I alone can’t hire all of the unemployed. Besides, we all know I’m not the problem. China is the problem. Trump is the solution. We have to Trump China. There are many ways we can do this that all begin with the letter Trump. SO. Let me tell you my first idea for what will eventually come to be known as, Operation: Trump China.

We raid the Wal-Mart stores, gather everything up and ship it all back to China. Then we employ kids right here in America who want to work, but can’t get any jobs thanks to all the illegal aliens that Obama brought here. It’s the perfect solution. We hire kids from say, ages ten to fifteen, to make clothes and ashtrays while their lazy parents stay home on their asses. No more unemployment checks. The budget is happy, the parents are happy and the kids are happy they get out of school early. Next thing you know, China is bowing to me- I mean, US. They’ll bow to us and come crawling on their knees, begging for mercy. And I’ll just pull out my finger and point at them and say, ‘You’re fired.’

Now it’s… Trump: 10,000; Media: 0; Obama: -100,000; Alien chick: 10, because now I recall she was very attractive and maybe that’s why I hired her.

SO. Blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah jobs. Blah blah BLAH blah blah blah blah blah Blah. Blah blah blah liberals, and Blah Blah blah blah blah. Because I just can’t believe blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah, thanks to Obama. Blah blah blah blah BLAH is blah blah blah blah blah blah this country.

SO. If you only remember one thing I said today, remember this… I never said Republicans were too crazy for anything. The media, CNN especially, just hates me because they’re jealous I have a TV show that’s a thousand times more popular and entertaining than any of their lame shows, now that Larry King is sipping wine on a nude beach. The only time their shows aren’t lame is when I’m on them. I’m the ratings juice. I’m the O.J. of politics. Why? I’m tangy and delicious and good for this country.

Twisted News: Drug Counselor Tells Celebs, "Just Die Already"

Bebe Maker
****************************

Celebrity patients undergoing treatment for substance abuse in Hollywood, CA were beside themselves when their counselor told them to, “Just die, already. Please. All of you. Just keel over and die.”

Web-certified (self-proclaimed) rehabilitation expert Simi Ragg says she was at the end of her “long, long, waaay too ffffing long assed rope” with the celebs, now her ex-patients.

“I had to kick them out of my program. You can only do so much talk therapy with these losers,” Ragg sputtered. “I thought I had a good group here. In the beginning they agreed they were insecure, greedy dumb shits who had lost all control. And I told them regularly how sad and pathetic their self-centered, woe-is-me attitudes and reckless behaviors were- and how if they continued to want all of the time they were going to get… it!”

Ragg continued, “Like I said they started on the right track. I don’t know how, why or exactly when it happened but I ended up with a room full of whining pussies and boasting idiots. What am I supposed to say when all they can talk about is how badly they need to get lit? Or their last high, and how great it was to crash into a ffffing embankment and cheat death on a bottle of Demerol? That’s loony speak.”

Note from Bebe: It was then I looked at my watch and raised a brow, noting aloud it was almost 4:00, as if I had to leave immediately and rush home to my children. Ragg saw right through me, and rambled on for what seemed like hours.

“I couldn’t imagine telling them, ‘Just live, already. Keep right on living and breathing cocaine. Keep teaching the youth who idolize you that if it isn’t dope, it isn’t chill.’ ”

“The world thinks every artist is nothing more than a walking medicine cabinet or a pissing bum in sharp threads, thanks to those boneheads. So I couldn’t tell them to keep on living. I can’t promote a DUI or insulting the Jews. That would be sarcasm- something I’m just not capable of pulling off. I’m too sincere… I’m very serious about my work.”

Although Simi Ragg’s ex-patients are celebrities, this particular group would like to remain anonymous for now. A few are working on their stories and should have them in print within months. Others will slowly but surely make appearances on reality TV. The remainder plan to, “keep bangin’ and livin’ it up till we OD, like the Ragg lady told us to.”

As for Simi Ragg, she has already fled the country. Rumor has it she’s bleeding in a cave somewhere near the Pakistani border.

Merry Xmas from The Hoff and Sharon Osbourne

Numero Uno, and that means first and forelymost, I ern’t drunk. Mm kay? If you ern’t drunk too, wave your finger in the air. C’mon! I’m doing it! Wave your finger in the air like you don’t… give a rubber duck. That doesn’t rhyme with finger but you know. That’s how you, you party without - erp! Esscuse me… won’t get dizzy. Sharon? Where’s Sharon? Oh, there you… hello. Minnie You. Let’s get somethin straight before we even get gone. Going. I’m the mothafockin Hoff. Man. Ladies. Sexy men who… girls? Here’s the thang. Poppy don’t drink. Poppy for sure don’t pop. Nothin. No time. And why would I do both for that flyin high the kids all… what? Why are we here? Hiccup! Right, and thank you Sharon. Twelve Steps of Xmas. A little ditty I wrote on the back of a bottle of… NO, a napkin one night. It smelled. Maybe me, NO. But… butt… ba-wa-ha-ha-ha-ha! Silence. I was thinking. No, pondering… the pain and suffering. In this… my own backyard. I like to call it’s a place I… to get deep. Call it… why candy stripe it, man? You know? It’s the world. My backyard. I’m… yawning. Sharon Osbourne, sing. Rest your shoulder under my head.

Ha-ha-ha! I mean, Ho-ho-ho! I’ve got shoulder pads on tonight so Honey we are set! Hoff, you look sooo delicious. I could lick Cool Whip off places without wearing a blindfold. Ooh! So edible! Studmuffin, I can’t sing like my babies. No one’s hung over, but I brought a choir. They’re going to sing the song the little elves in your head told you to write. I know all about those little buggers. I went through this at home just last week. Noo! It wasn’t me! Rest your head on my chair while they sing, Sweetie Pie. I’m off to find some Cool Whip. Tee-hee-hee! Come on, Minnie Me! Of course! Mommy knows how to share. Yes! You’ll get some licks in too!

The Twelve Steps of Xmas, written by The Hoff one night in a dry bar right after he watched The Santa Clause and didn’t hide anything in his pants that may have resembled a bottle.

In the first step of Xmas my Santa gave to me…
The power to admit, my life is total shit.
In the second step of Xmas my Santa gave to me…
Belief that the powers, will make me smell flowers
And admitting my life is still some shit.
In the third step of Xmas my Santa gave to me…
The will to give myself, to Santa and his elf
Believing in his powers, looking for the flowers
And admitting life is some rotten shit.
In the fourth step of Xmas my Santa gave to me…
The strength to search within, not the house for gin
The will to give myself, to Clause and his elf
Belief in the powers, still looking for the flowers
And admitting my life is hard core shit.
In the fifth step of Xmas my Santa gave to me…
Orders to confess sin,


To Santa…


And to Tim
The strength to search within, not for tonic and gin
The urge to give myself, to Clause and that elf
Believing in my powers, to find pretty flowers
And admitting life is dumb stinky shit.
In the sixth step of Xmas my Santa gave to me…
Elves with knives on top-a-me, doing a lobotomy
Confessing all my sin, to Santa and Tim
The will to look inside me, not to burp up whiskey
The sense to give myself, to Santy and that elf
Believing in my power, to pluck every flower
And acknowledging that life is shit.
In the seventh step of Xmas my Santa gave to me…
I think it was some humbling, or maybe he was bumbling
Crazy elves on top-a-me, doing that lobotomy
Confessing my sins, to Santas and Tims
Sense to search inside, for the booze I never hide
Hiding myself, from that dirty little elf
Gathering my powers, plucking pretty flowers
And believing that life is f**king shit.
In the eighth step of Xmas my Santa gave to me…
An obnoxiously long list, of everyone I dissed
Santa started mumbling, all the while still bumbling
After the lobotomy, elves were still on top-a-me
Talkin bout my sinnin, to anyone who’ll listen
Searchin for my G-spot, dreamin of booze I ain’t got
Running like hell, from evil little elves
Feeling up my powers, boozing up the flowers
And thinking life is total f**king shit.
In the ninth step of Xmas my Santa gave to me…
A chance to make amends, with all my rotten friends
Using that really long list, of everyone I dissed
Santa kept on bumbling, so we started rumbling
Wicked elves on top-a-me, trying hard to stop-a-me
Lost all track of my sins, started eating shark fins
Then bought a log cabin, to put my whiskey lab in
Welcoming my powers, f**king all the flowers
And believing life is the f**king shit.
In the tenth step of Xmas that Old Man gave to me…
SinBooks software that tracks, all of my sinful acts
So I can make amends, with all my asshat friends
And keep a running list, of every one I diss
We went back to rumbling, then we started tumbling
The elves couldn’t stop-a-me, and Santa was on top-a-me
Soon the elves got crushed, and then Santa was hushed
I went to the funeral, Santa had run outta Yule
He sued me for a million, now I’m back on the gin
Now I know life is nothing but shit.

In the eleventh step of Xmas that Asshole gave to me…
Twelve feet of snow, a lover who won’t blow
How did I write this song, it’s way too f**king long
I am done repeating, I’d rather puke while eating
All I know is life is f**king shit.
In the twelfth step of Xmas, Satan Claws gave me…
I can’t even remember, ern’t drunk rest of December
And I really have to take a shit.

Twisted News: Ghost Stalkers

Paranormal Activity Titillates Sexually

PATS is an organization dedicated to stalking ghosts for sexual pleasure. Jimmy Bob Berry, Denny Waxoff and Andy Dumass formed the group after graduating from college together when they finally came to the realization that (for various reasons) they would never have sex with any human being. As time went on they soon attracted other like-minded individuals who were eager to, as Berry put it, “Get a good bone on and relieve ourselves while watching ghosts. It's not voyeurism if they know we're there. ”

Waxoff and Dumass were also available during the interview. Says Dumass, “I’m the original mastermind behind PATS. I’ve always had a deep fascination with the paranormal. It’s been a great experience so far. I’ll admit one misstep was walking in on Denny during a moment of climax, but he forgave me for that.”

Waxoff admitted, “It was hard to be angry at Andy. I mean, he unknowingly walked right into a jizz shower that day. And I never forgot to wear a condom after that.”

Berry claims PATS is very professional and detail-oriented. After taking care of business they clean up and leave no trace of their close encounters behind. And surprisingly, there is no shortage of haunted houses available.

“The phone rings every day,” a smiling Berry revealed. “People are always grateful when we show up with our equipment. They just want to know if it’s really a ghost in their building. They don’t care what we do when we get there. We get paid to do what we love.”

And exactly what kind of special equipment do they use?

“All we need is right here,” said Dumass, pointing toward his nether region. “In our pants,” he continued. “If we investigate a room and a ghost is present, it’s an automatic erection.”

Waxoff adds, “What could be better than this? Extra-terrestrials, that’s what. But we have yet to meet a willing alien.”

Dear Elizabeth...

Dear Elizabeth,

I’ve been trying to put myself into your shoes lately. I’ve tried to see things from your point of view. But I’m afraid I, I just can’t do that. I just can’t imagine what it would be like to be married to a habitual liar with a cheatin’ heart. I have no idea what it’s like to suffer such public betrayal. The pain and humiliation must be terrible.

And in all honesty, I can’t believe you’re still with a man who would confess to your face he had many hot days and even hotter nights with a woman much younger and more attractive than you. Are you that needy? There ARE other fish in the sea.

Why don’t you just leave? Save what little pride you have left and get out now. I mean, Holy Jupiter! Why on earth would you want to stay? All it takes is a trip down to the courthouse. You can be a free woman! Hell, I’ll even point you into the direction of a good lawyer.

What in tarnation are you waiting for? It can only get worse from here on out.





Sincerely,

John

John McCain speaks to America again

Hello America,

I’m back to do some ‘splaining about an ad you may or may not have seen comparing Barack Obama to Britney Spears and Paris Hilton. My campaign came up with this honorable spot to let you know my opponent is one who simply cannot be trusted. This was a fair and unbiased representation of a man who has only been in the Senate for 3 years. I, on the other hand, have been proudly serving this country since long before most of you youngsters were even born. And I’m proud.

I’m proud of this ad because it was hilarious. After viewing the ad for the first time, my campaign team and I laughed and laughed. I soaked my Depends within seconds. I am proud to work with comrades who are in tune with my sense of humor and know just how to tickle my funny bone. And when it comes right down to winning over young voters, humor works. Comedians themselves are insanely jealous. Come on now. Admit it. The ad is funny.

I’m proud of this ad because it finally got me some desperately needed attention. Let’s face it, my campaign is in crisis mode here. Senator Obama has been globe trotting and now he’s back on American soil and everyone knows about it. Thanks to the media, you all know when he’s taking a shit and you know its color and consistency. I've had to deal with the media sucking his ass and face for far too long now. The only way I can get any coverage is if I attack their lover in every way possible. And I might add it’s amazing just how far a rape threat can get you. I was on Wolf Blitzer’s show last week.

I am the only one you can trust, America. How can I can get through to you people? There’s just no other way to show you I am indeed the better man. So be prepared for many more ads like this one, and the one about the media boning my opponent. I’m only pointing out the Senator's weaknesses in a way that shows I am an elect-able candidate. We’ve only just begun, and I’m proud. I’m a winner.

And while we're on the subject of winning, let’s talk about my years and years of experience. For example, I have an excellent track record of thinking about the oil and energy crisis. It’s been on my mind for the last 20+ years - well - since the late 70’s. That’s got to count for something.

When push came to shove on the campaign trail, I exposed my genius by hopping on board with Senator Clinton’s proposal for a gas tax holiday that could’ve helped America immensely for a few awesome days.

Recently I’ve decided to support the off-shore drilling of oil when for years I was against it. I’ve flipped not because Bush did a 180 and is now supporting it, and not to align myself with most Americans on this issue. I've changed my position because I control the wind. And the idea of “too little, too late” is the way losers operate. Barack Obama is one of those big fat losers. Winners know you can never give up. If your head and torso are in the mouth of a shark, do you let him make a meal out of you? No, you put up a fight. You punch and kick. You scream. When you feel your body being sawed in two, you don’t give up. Blood pours out from you and attracts more sharks, but that’s okay because you’re still fighting for your life. Even when it’s obvious you only have but seconds left to live, you tell yourself it will be alright and continue your fight. That’s how to be a winner. Losers are always nitpicking and losing themselves in such trivial things as details. I’m above that, America. And I’m ready to lead you as your next President.




Vote for me, or you could be eaten by sharks.

I’m Senator McCain, and I don’t not approve this message.

John McCain speaks to America

Dear America,

I’m John McCain. I’d like to be your next Commander-in-Chief because I’m really sick of life as a Senator.

I’m not trying to run away from Arizona’s problems. I’m just tired of getting bombarded on all sides over the whole “immigrant” issue. I’ve had both parties on my tail for years. I’ve had to deal with a grass roots group of wannabe Border Patrol agents, as well as complete idiots who think they can build some kind of fence to keep the America-hungry Mexicans out. Well, I’ve done enough. It’s over. Now I want to lead this great nation. I’m fully prepared to deal with the worst of the worst, America’s conscience - Lou Dobbs. He is one tough bastard to ignore. But I can do it.

Also, I feel like I was jipped when in the year 2000 I ran against George W. Bush and lost the party nomination. As much as I love the President, I should’ve won that bitch. So here I am. And as long as I’m still alive, I’m not going anywhere.





I have Life Alert.

While Senator Obama is away, I see this as a window of opportunity to tell you all exactly what is wrong with him. So listen up. Obama is a loser. He’s not a war hero like me. When I was busy winning a war, he was wasting his time somewhere in Montana. How dare he enjoy a holiday with his family in a state no one cares about while I’m slaving away and winning wars. I’m just stating the facts here. And the facts are, he has no judgment. He changes his position with the wind. I know the wind. For example, I know when the wind starts blowing one way, it should continue to keep blowing in that direction. If the wind changes it is wrong, and I’m always right. I’ve never changed my position. He knows nothing about the wind.

I know how to win wars. I’ve won many. You don’t win wars with peace. You win them in a bloody fight to the death after arresting and eventually hanging that nation's dictator. That makes me a winner, and not a waster of billions of dollars.

I supported the surge and Obama opposed it. I don’t want to hear any more about him being opposed to the war in the first place. But if you want to throw that in my face, I’ll respond by telling you what a loser he is. He’s a big fat loser. I control the wind. That makes me mighty and strong, and not weak like my opponent. He doesn’t know jack about the wind.

Senator Obama also doesn’t know squat diddly about Iraq. I’ve been to Iraq eight times. That makes me a winner, and fully supports my claim that he is a loser. I know Iraq’s Prime Minister better than I know my own wife. Senator Obama knows nothing about foreign relations, or that most problems can be resolved in a hotel room. I know how to solve problems. There aren't any that can’t be solved over a bottle of wine with Barry White playing softly in the background.

I’m Senator McCain, and I don’t not approve this message.