OK, this was published last on February of 2016, but it is one of my favorite satirical pieces so I’ve re-posting it as a re-run. Although it’s labeled as “humor,” I have it on good authority that some of it is factual and came from an insider with knowledge of the goings-on in the White House (H/T to Bo, thanks Bo). Garnet92.
The president escaped from Valerie’s confinement and was determined to show that even without her direction, he could rule the country his-own-self.
But he had to hurry. He knew that he only had a few minutes before she and Bo tracked him down and she reattached his GPS ankle bracelet. He’d learned too late that Bo wasn’t really a family pet; he was a Barack-retriever. Barry couldn’t hide anywhere – Bo would find him and Valerie would punish him again. His nipples still hurt from his last escapade.
Luckily he spied one of his advisors, Gus Undheit, in the mall and pulled him aside. He was so proud of having thought up a solution for the ISIS problem and the Southern border all in one fell swoop, he just had to tell someone, Gus would have to do.
“Ooh, ooh, Gus I’ve got it.” Barry was almost giddy. He’d had a real bona fide original thought (and those were rare) and he just had to tell someone!
“Here’s what we’ll do, we’ll intercept those Guatermelons and Honderasses and Niggeragwas people before they get to the border. We’ll blindfold them and fly them to Saudi Arabia and help them cross the border into Iraq’s Anbar province. We’ll tell them they’re crossing the border into Texas. They’ll never know the difference!”
“That way they’ll overwhelm ISIS’s benefit and welfare and education systems and cause a taxpayer revolt among the ISISians, and they’ll fold.”
“Gus wasn’t impressed. Sir, you don’t understand … er, sorry, I misspoke – I meant that ISIS is not as welcoming as we are, they may even harm the refugees. And since they won’t be here, the new undocumented citizens won’t be able to vote for democrats. Remember, that’s why we invited them in the first place.”
“But, can’t we just have them fill out absentee ballots first?”
Before Gus could answer, Barry felt something sniffing around the back of his pants leg and knew that he’d been caught. He turned, expecting to see Bo.
But it wasn’t Bo, it was Valerie and in a flash, he was cuffed again. “Drat.”
Bo was sitting a couple of feet away, watching, dog-smirking at the ineptitude of his so-called “master” and slowly wagging his tail back and forth. “What a dumbass,” he thought.
Barry knew what came next. “Heel” was Valerie’s command and dutifully, both Obama and Bo followed her back to the family quarters, walking on either side as trained dogs do. Bo was fine, but Barry was shivering in his Johnson & Murphy loafers, leaking little drops of urine along the way. He knew he was in trouble.
Michelle was waiting with her paddle at the ready. Barry dropped his presidential trousers and lay across the bed, steeling himself for what he knew was coming next.
WHACK uhhh WHACK uhhh WHACK ohhh WHACK “Ohhh please stop, he sobbed.” Michelle handed the paddle to Valerie, “It’s your turn Val, give him a few more.”Obama’s half-tan bottom was beginning to glow a beet red. WHACK aaiiiyyyeee WHACK “please, no more.” WHACK arrggg WHACK.
The noise from the spirited paddling echoed throughout the President’s Bedroom. Now the whacking and cries gave way to the President of the United States quietly sobbing into a pillow.
“Don’t you EVER do that again.” Valerie had made it clear that he could not escape her wrath. Michelle was looking on, smiling; she had a sadistic streak and loved to see Barack humiliated – especially by VJ.
By now, Barry’s butt was glowing – so red it could light a cigarette – God help them if he farted … an incendiary WHOOSH could char and blacken the wallpaper and that might be hard to explain.
Valerie was pleased to see small wisps of steam coming from Barry’s buttocks. “Pull your pants up and come with me,” she commanded. “That’ll learn him,” she thought.
Michelle and Barry sat down at a table in the President’s Private Sitting Room while Valerie locked the doors. She needed super-ultra-double secret conditions for what she was about to reveal.
“I’ve got a new program for you to introduce, it’s brilliant. It’ll benefit every political faction – every one – even Republicans. It’ll appeal to women and men alike and to all races – in short, it’ll appeal to all adult voters and it’s guaranteed to win us a third term.”
She walked to a flip-chart and flipped over the cover page. There was only one word on the page.
The president looked confused, “wha, what the heck is “obamrepair”?
“It’s Obamacare for home appliances,” announced VJ proudly.
Barry was struck dumb (perhaps that should be struck dumbER).
Obviously, he did not comprehend. He was speechless; his face displayed no indication of brain activity. He was now in a blue screen error condition. He was still red on his bottom end, now blue at his top end, damn shame he wasn’t white in the middle – he might have at least looked American.
Michelle understood the concept and clapped her hands gleefully. “What a great idea!”
“Everybody needs appliance care and you can’t just throw the washer or dryer in the back of your Mercedes and take it to your friendly repair clinic, you need house calls. And those are expensive!”
“That’s right Michelle, and poor disadvantaged voters can’t afford it. We’ll have emergency outpatient clinics for toasters and coffee makers and make house calls for washers and dryers.”
“Everyone who doesn’t have coverage will benefit and we’ll even cover senior appliances too. We can cover substance abuse – like when Shaniqua pours a gallon of paint in a washer or when little D’marcus tries dry out his hamster in the dryer.” VJ was encouraged by Michelle’s enthusiastic response, so she went on …
“We’ll set up a new Obamrepair Marketplace website, just like the old one so everyone can quickly and easily sign up and we can offer subsidies to low income families so they can cover their appliances too.”
“We can keep co-pays and deductibles low so a catastrophic dishwasher stoppage won’t break a family. Some out-of-plan repairs, like hairdryers and pasta makers, will be included so they won’t have to be paid out-of-pocket.”
“And hand-me-down appliances can be covered on their parent’s plan until a child reaches the age of 26!”
“And Barack can promise to save a family over $2,500 in the first year and guarantee that they’ll be able to keep their existing stove and oven. Period”
“Barack … Barack … are you listening?”
It was obvious that the lights were on, but no one was home. He obviously needed a reboot. Valerie reached over and slapped the president a few more times … hard. Something inside his head rattled.
Slowly, his eyes rolled, spinning like a slot machine and finally stopped on lemon-lemon. He was slowly coming back.
“I,I,I,I,ME,ME,ME …”Another couple of slaps.
“Present” was all he said.
At last, our fearless “leader” was back, ready to meet any challenge, vanquish any foe, syrup any pancake.
Barack was back. O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! The Jabberwocky was back!
And now we, the 317,000,000 citizens of these United States, can once again sleep soundly knowing that our fate is firmly in the grasp of this partier, this golfer, this fund raiser extraordinaire, and that he will stop at nothing to assure our peace and prosperity.
Right. And if you believe that ………
Don’t miss the next exciting chapter when Barry gets together with Bill Clinton to try to figure out what the definition of ISIS is.
Categories: Humor & Satire