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: Captain's Lawsuit Fails

Ima Maroon

**************************

Judge Play Land threw out Captain Caveman’s complaint on Wednesday against the legendary animated comic hero, Superman, saying it was, “a lawsuit a grade-schooler could find irony in.”

Play Land also noted the litigation has fueled the small but loud “birther movement” against Superman, and described it as, “nothing but a stack of rhetoric covered in poo gravy.”

Caveman filed the complaint as an effort to club Superman’s orders for the Captain to deploy to an animated version of Iraq.




Caveman’s logic for shirking orders is based on it’s claim that since Superman was never born on the planet Krypton he is a phony, and therefore shouldn’t be allowed to commandeer.

Caveman issued this written statement in advance:

Caveman’s proof includes it’s strong belief that if Superman were actually born on the planet Krypton, he wouldn’t have a deadly allergic reaction to kryptonite. It makes no sense whatsoever. How can something on his own planet- with basically the same name- send the ‘man of steel’ spiraling tragically into a death roll? That I’d have to see to believe, but he won’t put on a demonstration. What is he hiding?

Caveman also believes Superman has used 39 aliases, all stolen from other animated characters.

Caveman itself spoke to us for a moment before entering the court room. “If Superjerk win, terrorist win; no way me gonna win game of Club, Gun, Bomb!”

In response to that Superman said, “Caveman is a cartoon character. It will be up against other cartoons and cannot be exterminated. It has nothing to worry about. What a jackass.”

As Play Land ruled against Caveman, she also had this to say, “Unlike in ‘Alice in Wonderland’, simply saying something is so doesn’t make it so.”

She then ordered Caveman to, “Go to hell. I mean, Iraq.”
　

King Interviews The Grim Reaper

No! Don’t take me! I haven’t even lived! I’ll put up a fight!

You invited me. Silly King.

King: Cut me a break! You’re one scary looking son-of-a-gun. Let’s get right to it. Why Michael and why so close to a major holiday?

Grim Reaper: You’re kidding, right? I don’t select my victims. It’s not up to me to decide! I’m so misunderstood and really a nice dead-spirit-guy. I’m tired of being portrayed or thought of in a dark light. You know, as some kind of meanie. I’m not a monster! But, it had to be this way. Fire couldn’t kill him. Mob of angry parents? Not a chance. Another nose operation? Maybe. Hmm… It would make sense.

King: So it’s not up to you to decide. Are you saying Judge Judy is your boss?

Reaper: Do you ever hear what anyone says? Are the questions in your head banging around so loudly it makes listening impossible? No! Judge Judy?! NO! When did I say I had a boss? Life is a crap shoot. Now can we move on? I must return to sucking the life out of celebrities, Charlie’s Angels style.

King: Uuuuh, most of my questions just went poof. Oddly enough, Farrah Fawcett passed earlier the same day. How can you knock Charlie’s Angels when folks like me are still grieving? *And when will I die?

Reaper: Who wouldn’t want to knock them - boots? Well, not Kate Jackson. I may be a dead-spirit-guy but I’ve got bones. Uh, sorry! It’s tough, this business of taking lives. It gets to me. Anyway, Farrah left after the first season. Heart wrenching. You know gorgeous actresses, when they realize the whole world knows of their beauty they try to act all smart and shit, taking on ‘serious’ roles. *And I sure wish I could tell you when you’ll be eliminated but I don’t get much of a notice. Damn it. Damn it all.

King: Ditto on Kate. I’ve always wondered how she got the gig.

Reaper: Well as far as her acting… Right, it’s a mystery that shall remain in the 70’s. Seriously, don’t look it up on wiki. You’ll kill the wonderment. And that’s all beside the point. I would’ve preferred striking down someone else’s buttocks. Madonna? She hasn’t put out anything worthwhile in ten years, said Guy Ritchie. See? I’m really a caring individual. Now do you want to discuss the works of Bea Arthur? Dom DeLuise? David Carradine? Billy Fucking Mays, bitches? Like it or not he could get our attention. How we responded was a personal choice. More like a lifestyle, really.

King: I can see you’re no social butterfly. Let’s get back to the topic everyone in the free world and China wants us to discuss. Tell us more about Michael Jackson and everyone he ever knew in his lifetime.

Reaper: Have you turned on the news lately?! What more could I possibly add? Why can’t this story die already?

King: Hey, I’m supposed to be asking the questions.

Reaper: Then do it better.

Humph. Well if you want the story to die, why don’t you kill it?

Smart ass.

King Interviews REO Speedwagon, Styx & 38 Special

The King is totally psyched! Our line-up is mind-blowing. Tonight’s guests are fantastically incredible performers. REO Speedwagon and Styx have taken a break from their ‘Can’t Stop Rocking’ tour. I guess they’ve stopped rocking just for me. Also, a special appearance by .38 Special… I can finally go to my giant head and retrieve some questions I’ve been sitting on for years, which hasn’t been easy. I must say, as relieved as I am to have my ass back where it belongs I will miss the familiarity of a certain smell.

First let’s bring out a group who is very near and dear to my heart. With like… 1,005 monster radio hits and such classics as Flash Tan Queen, Little Queenie and Keep Pushin’… This band needs no introduction. REO Speedwagon, come out!

What the… Sorry folks. They’re not here. Wait… What’s that? Okay! They’re out in the parking lot and we’re going live right now!




Da-dum da-dum, da-dah! I finally got on with the King! ‘Cause I can’t fight this feeling anymore. Yeah.

The King is not amused! How did you get out of the garage? I thought it was locked…



I’m your genuine REO Speedwagon! Isn’t that what you wanted? C’mon now. Roll with the changes.



Looks like I’m riding the storm out. But… It’s a short one! So if you don’t take it on the run, baby… ‘Cause that’s the way I want it, baby… That’s right! You’re going straight to the auction block.



Awww, why you gotta be like that honey? Fine. Have it your way. It’s time for me to fly.



Damn straight. Get yo ass back home girlfriend! Now let’s get Styx in here and try to forget the last few minutes. Please, just try to forget.




Hey! We’re so happy to be here! We are Styx!



Nooooo, you’re not. You are definitely not Styx.



We nine glow sticks represent the current and former members of the most awesome and wonderful band Styx!



That is sooooo not right. Listen up chumps, that would make ten members altogether. Not nine! Ten!



Well, the Dennis DeYoung glow stick couldn’t make it. He’s in another world right now. A fabulous world filled with bright, hot lights… The briskly tantalizing and glorious sounds of giant synthesizers making sweet, sweet love. Did you know when synthesizers climax…



Where the F*** is he?



… We sticks are reborn and glow another five minutes. Geez… He’s at a Styx concert. Duh!



As long as you’re here and obviously fans, let me ask one thing before I throw you at the mercy of the kidlets. Back in 1997, a cult known as Heaven’s Gate poisoned themselves to join what they believed were aliens traveling in the wake of a comet. Some say your missing glow stick predicted this event with the song Come Sail Away. Dennis DeYoung… Prophet, or trippin’ hardcore nuts on the acid?



Holy fluorescents! What kind of question is that? It’s just screaming insane asylum…



And that’s where you’re going right now. Bye! Have fun with the kiddies! And I assure you they will never, ever be coming back. Why is this happening to the King? I have a face my mommy loves! And now I’m horribly afraid to call out our last guests. But I kind of, must… And why not shovel more worm poo on this rotting corpse of a show? So without further delaying my inevitable doom, .38 Special?




No need to be frightened, King! I’m just a sexy little thing looking for a place to rest my butt for a spell. See how good I look on your pillow? Keep me under here long enough for the brats to make a discovery and play a super-fun game called Wild West. I can’t wait until I’m in the hands of the lucky bastard playing Cowboy!



Well, anything is better than those phony Styx. What do I need to know? Could you make the King even more horrifying to women, children, hairless men and small animals? Would you be easy for the King to handle?



It’s really simple! Just hold on loosely, but don’t let go. If you cling too tightly, you’re gonna lose control.



Where the F*** were you on 9/11?

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 Lyrics: My Name Is Joe The Plumber

This came to me when I saw a McCain t-shirt on CNN that read, “My name is Joe the plumber.”

This is an obvious twist on Eminem’s song, My Name Is. I’m just having some fun and it won’t be long before everyone forgets all about this guy. I’m also a fan of Carly Simon but I couldn’t make this fit with any of her songs.


My Name Is… Joe The Plumber

Hi! My name is… what? My name is… who?
My name is… Joe the plumber
Hi! My name is… huh? My name is… what?
My name is… Joe the plumber

Ah hem. Excuse me!
Can I have the attention of the press for one second?

Hi kids! Do you like violence?
Wanna see me stick Palin’s nails through each one of my eyelids?
Wanna copy me and do exactly as I did?
Trick y’all and get f***ed up worse than my life is?
I don’t play straight, found a candidate to bait
but I can’t figure out why I owe $1200 to the state
John McCain said, “Joe you are a winner!”
Uh-uh. “You won the debate. Here’s your dinner!”
Well I pretend, I feel like I’m someone else
Cause I felt like a rich plumber cause that’s just how I felt
Got pissed off and ripped the democrat’s balls off
And smacked him so hard he went away crying, so I thought
You all should know who I am, my real name is Sam
I’m on McCain’s side and I don’t give a damn
I am Sam (We know your last name is Wurzelbacher!)
But please call me Joe, God sent me to be the plumber

Hi! My name is… what? My name is… who?
My name is… Joe the plumber
Hi! My name is… huh? My name is… what?
My name is… Joe the plumber

My fifteen minutes of fame sure aren't flyin by fast
Thanks a lot, I was just hoping it wouldn't last
But it’s okay that I’m on many buttons, McCain’s shown me lovin,
and even Sarah Palin gives me huggin (Wow!)
Showed up in the crowd, had my other face on
Surprised Obama, now do you all think I’m a con?
A registered voter, runnin with republicans
and the liberals are screamin at me: “Let’s just be friends!”
Ninety-nine percent of my life is just a dream
I just found out I need a license and I’m steamed (Damn!)
I told me I’d grow up to be a famous plumber
Make a statement about Palin love and try not to hurt her
You know you blew up when the McCain says your name
and the reporters flood your house givin you this fame
Barack at the debate asked to explain his plan
(Joe, can I speak about my plan?)
So I sighed, “Dear Barack, thanks for the support, Asshole!”

Hi! My name is… huh? My name is… who?
My name is… Joe the plumber
Hi! My name is… what? My name is… who?
My name is… Joe the plumber

Stop the tape, this plumber is sick of TV!
John McCain, don’t just stand there, you’re the key!
I’m not feelin too good, cause the people do pry (F*** that!)
They’ll have to slap me on more t-shirts in order to keep my name alive
Am I Samuel or Joe? I can barely decide
I just might lose my self respect, dare me to cry?
All my life I moved from there to here
I have lived in Arizona, in Alaska for almost a year
(Whoops!) You know I’m the Incredible Joe
I’m in Ohio, and I’m the star of the show (C’mere)
When I was unknown I used to get so pissed off I would throw fits
How you gonna help, Joe Biden? You ain’t got no tits! (Wahhh!)
I have to get a plumbing license to work
What the hell happened? I’ll get you media jerks (Bang!)
I’m steamin mad (Arrrggghhh!)
And by the way when you see Barack? (Yeah?)
Tell him that I kicked his ass, and my vote is locked

Hi! My name is… what? My name is… who?
My name is… Joe the plumber
Hi! My name is… huh? My name is… what?
My name is…



You can get your button at McCain's website...

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.”

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.