Political Humor

So you voted for Obama. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!

Oh, sorry. No, I’m not! Hahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!

Alright,alright… Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!! Woo… Okay. I’m Okay.

Give me a minute.

There, that’s better.

That wasn’t very professional of me. I apologize. What am I talking about? When have I ever acted professionally? So why should I care if I hurt your widdle feelings? You didn’t care about mine when you went into the voting booth. My question to you, Oh Dumb Ass Sycophants of the Chosen One would have to be, What The Hell Were You Thinking!

Uoo! Uoo! I know the answer! Put your hands down and shut-up, it’s my post. I’ll answer if I want. Besides, what makes you thing you’d be right this time? Simply put, you weren’t. You might have wrongly believed you were, but that still makes you wrong. There has to be a major disconnect between your brain and a little something I like to call, reality. Yep, I do believe it was mental.

Here’s a few of the reasons you might have Lost Your Frikkin’ Mind!

1.Someone told you to vote for him (Acorn).

2.You thought it would end racial strife (Jeremiah Wright, Henry Lewis Gates, Van Jones).

3.He’ll do good things for the environment (Cap and Trade).

4.He can fix the economy (Trillions and trillions wasted. I don’t think Carl Sagan ever knew there were numbers that big).

I gotta believe that a lot of you are feeling some Buyer’s Remorse about now. This is not the Obama you thought you were getting. You have to be somewhat sorry you voted for him. Come-on admit it.

I’ve been thinking about how you must be feeling about now. This is the best analogy I can come up with. Voting for Obama was like crapping in your pants. I shall enlighten you as to why.

1.Deep in your heart, you knew voting for him wasn’t the right thing to do.

2.But you did it anyway.

3.Right after, you had a warm, squishy feeling.

4. But it didn’t last.

5. Now that feeling’s gone cold.

6. And lumpy.

7.It’s beginning to chap your ass.

8.You’re starting to regret that you had a moment of weakness.

9.Now you’re looking at a big, smelly mess to clean-up.

10.And you’re hoping someone else will do it for you…again.

Let’s face it, your choice stinks on ice.

Personally, I never have Buyer’s Remorse when it comes to my vote. I research. I ask questions. I don’t let my emotions sway me. Oh, and one other little thing… I think. Try it next time and we might not end up with a load of crap.

I’m really pissed-off. Want to know why? Whether you do or not, I’m going to tell you anyway.

It’s like this, did I get any money from the National Endowment for the Arts? No! Did I get to be in on the teleconference with Buffy The Walmart Slayer Wicks? No! Did I get asked to do art work for our Beloved Leader. No! No! And hell no!

Why not? I don’t understand it. My stuff is just as good as all those so called “artist”. Well, I don’t care why.  Screw ‘em. So instead of shilling for Obama, I got something for their non-art appreciating asses.

I call it,

Obama’s a Monster

And here are the pictures to prove it.

The NEA should have just ponied-up some taxpayer cash. I bet next year I’ll get a grant. Sorry sons of bitches.

Excerpts from Barack Obama’s Third Autobiography, The Book of Barack

by Barack Obama

Forwards by Rev. Jeremiah Wright, Bill Ayers, and Van Jones.

The Book of Barack is an instant classic. Written with each verse paragraph numbered for easy referencing by your family or for classroom exercises. Soon to be a major motion picture.

Chapter One

1. I was born a poor, half-black child.

2. My parents conceived me after their march on Selma. Many years later, I asked my mother about this. She told me that Selma was the type of person that everybody just walked all over. She said, “There are many folks like that son. You grow-up and learn to walk on people too. Be a big man.” “I will be a big man, ma’am. I promise I’ll walk all over them,” I said.

3. In the part of Hawaii were I was born, lions would come right into the grass huts and carry babies away -just like dingos. Malaria killed many others, and my formula mixture of  water buffalo milk, blood and urine made me gassy. In order to preserve my precious, and necessary life, we moved to Indonesia.

4. My father was a big man. I wanted to be like him, but I was half white and could see the displeasure in his eyes. He worked for an evil oil company, but because he wasn’t like them either, the bosses paid him very little. I told him, “Someday I will make people equal.”

5. When I was five, it was time for me to begin my formal education. The next few years were the most formative of my life. They made me who I am today. Since money was scarce, my mother couldn’t afford to send me to the school where other kids went -from places like Hawaii.

6. Mother knew my education was very important. So she would get me up every morning at 4:30 and read to me from a Little Red Book. Then is was off to the Madrassas. There we would learn useful things, like how to field strip and re-assemble a AK 47 in under a minute, and how to lie to infidels. Lying to them isn’t a sin. This is a lesson I’ve never forgotten.

7. Rice, a few near rotten vegetables and maybe some rat meat, was all we could afford. We didn’t have snacks. Once in a while, my father would bring home large bags of leaded paint chips from the walls of the capitalist’s oil rigs where he worked, doing some lackey job. Those tasted like Paradise to me. I really liked the blue ones, but the red ones left a bad taste in my mouth. Mom and Dad would take all the green ones, and then send me out to play.

8. I never knew why my parents separated, but I remember my father use to be gone for days at a time. Early one morning he walked in the door screaming at my mother “I divorce you! I divorce you! I divorce you!” and he was gone. I’ve wanted to ask some of my half-brothers and sisters if they might know anything about this. Some of them are only a few months younger than me, but I never see them.

9. We went to live with my grandmother. She turned out to be a wealth,white racist. I used her money to go to a spendy primary school. I’d learned from my mother, and the Little Red Book, that’s what rich people are for. They must help the poor, even if they don’t want to. I grew to despise her, even as I kept taking her checks.

10. I then took her dirty money and went to an expensive college. I said to myself, “Some day I’ll take all the rest of her money and throw her under a bus. I’ll throw everyone, who’s no longer useful to me, under a bus.”

11. I was angry, confused and alone. Then I met Michelle…

Read more of Barack Obama’s exciting life’s story by ordering your copy today. Please send your last tax return, and you will be billed accordingly.

Mail to: 1616 Pennsylvannia Ave NW, Washington, DC 20006

Or phone: (202) 456-1414

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