My Conversation With Donald Trump

OK, I admit it. I’m not a US citizen. I’ll never be President. I’ll be a permanent member of the no-fly list and my phone will be constantly bugged. Jan Brewer will kick me out of the country because I have no papers proving who I am or where I was born. I’m very disappointed to find I’m some sort of exotic, white “anchor baby“.

Note to self: Avoid Arizona.

Now I know what it’s like to be Barack Hussein Obama – if that is indeed his real name.

Family legend said I was born in Elkins, WV. But sorting through my personal papers I was unable to find a real birth certificate bearing the imprint of Orly Taitz‘s signet ring in wax. In fact, I don’t even have a pitiful “Certificate of Live Birth” like Obama’s. All I have is a scrap of paper looking as though it’s been ripped from a ship’s log. All it says is, “A kid was born just off the coast of Somalia during our last pirate takeover. Don’t know his name. Not sure of the date, but it wasn’t long ago. But this is all the proof he needs to show he was actually born. He’ll probably grow up to be a liberal communist anyway.” It was signed and Ensign Hikaru Hussein Sulu.

My Mom Was a Nigerian Official’s Wife
As I dug deeper, I learned I’d been abandoned to a Norfelia Lumbago, the wife of a Nigerian government official who couldn’t access his money held up in Banco Lagos until he came out of exile. Apparently, I had a very poor childhood. Mom never did get the money.

From Lagos, I went to a madrasa in Pakistan where I learned a useful trade making amateur Betamax videos for worldwide news distribution. It was a very prestigious career. I was even allowed to sleep on the softest rocks in our Tora Bora studio cave. I minored in bomb making.

I tell you all of that to tell you this, I – like every member of the Republican Party – want to run for President in 2012. I figured I’d be a shoo-in with a platform of rolling government back to its state in 1850 and by being the first Presidential candidate running with two part-time Vice Presidential candidates. Michele Bachmann, because she looks so scrumptious in a bikini and always tells the truth as relayed to her by God. And, Sarah Palin because she looks adorable with that naughty school marm vibe she has going on. Plus, she said she could only be Vice President for half a term. She needed to take time off for the salmon fishing and snowmobile racing seasons.

Just as I was ready to launch my pre-campaign to decide whether I was going to kick off my exploratory committee leading to my final decision to announce, at some time in the future, that I thought I might be running, but tell everyone, “I might be running or I might not be running. That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Donald Trump called.

A ‘Fabulous Opportunity’
Of course I met with The Donald™ – that’s what his friends call him. I believe I’m the third or fourth friend he has. I’m so honored. During the meeting he told me he had a fabulous opportunity for me. He said, “I have a fabulous opportunity for you.”

He said, “I’m richer than God and the smartest man in the world too. Of course, that goes without saying. I know I can talk to you like I’ll talk to Cesar Chavez and convince him to give us his oil for free. Nothing to it. It’s an exciting, fabulous, stupendous piece of cake. I’d offer him a casino or a missile up his butt and he’d be all over the deal. Fantastic. Smart man, that Chavez. No nose for business though. Not like me. I’m world-famous. I even have my own university for God’s sake.”

“Um Mr. Trump, I’m a little confused. Why did you invite me to this fabulous, high-end Waffle House to talk?”

Mr. Trump Loves the Waffles
“Well first, I love the waffles. But I really want to make you a deal, because you know, I know, you know what a fabulous businessman I am.”

“Here’s the deal. A really good deal. Fantastic actually. You show me your birth certificate – because we all know you’re lying about having one – and I’ll release my tax information. I gave the same deal to Obama, but the man is an imbecile. Turned me down. Shows why I’m rich and he’s not.”

“Of course everyone would read it and see just how rich I am. Mega-rich! Uber-rich! Richest man in the world, no matter what Forbes says! They always hated me for being so rich, but I’m going to buy their lying asses out. It’ll be a fabulous deal.”

“So when can we sign the papers? I’ll even let you keep the luxurious gold Bic embossed with the Trump logo if you want.”

That’s how I came to tell this story now. My campaign is in ruins. I told the truth about not being a citizen and Mr. Trump released his taxes. He was right, it caused quite a stir.

Mr. Trump offered me a lot of money, a fabulous amount actually, to go away. That’s how I’ve become a rich man like Mr. Trump. I have millions now and Mr. Trump found me a fabulous new job as Venezuelan oil minister. I get to do super deals and money is no object. I’m smarter now that I’m rich too. Cesar and I go to dinner all the time. We’re great friends because we’re both so rich and I still have that butt-missile Mr. Trump gave me wholesale (because multi-millionaires never pay retail). But I’m terribly sad about one thing … I really miss Sarah and Michele. We could really do some fancy clubbing down here. I even have a penthouse in the Trump Caracas Holiday Inn.

Fabulous! Just super-gargantuous really!

Cross posted at The Omnipotent Poobah Speaks!

 

My Conversation With Donald Trump

OK, I admit it. I’m not a US citizen. I’ll never be President. I’ll be a permanent member of the no-fly list and my phone will be constantly bugged. Jan Brewer will kick me out of the country because I have no papers proving who I am or where I was born. I’m very disappointed to find I’m some sort of exotic, white “anchor baby“.

Note to self: Avoid Arizona.

Now I know what it’s like to be Barack Hussein Obama – if that is indeed his real name.

Family legend said I was born in Elkins, WV. But sorting through my personal papers I was unable to find a real birth certificate bearing the imprint of Orly Taitz‘s signet ring in wax. In fact, I don’t even have a pitiful “Certificate of Live Birth” like Obama’s. All I have is a scrap of paper looking as though it’s been ripped from a ship’s log. All it says is, “A kid was born just off the coast of Somalia during our last pirate takeover. Don’t know his name. Not sure of the date, but it wasn’t long ago. But this is all the proof he needs to show he was actually born. He’ll probably grow up to be a liberal communist anyway.” It was signed and Ensign Hikaru Hussein Sulu.

My Mom Was a Nigerian Official’s Wife
As I dug deeper, I learned I’d been abandoned to a Norfelia Lumbago, the wife of a Nigerian government official who couldn’t access his money held up in Banco Lagos until he came out of exile. Apparently, I had a very poor childhood. Mom never did get the money.

From Lagos, I went to a madrasa in Pakistan where I learned a useful trade making amateur Betamax videos for worldwide news distribution. It was a very prestigious career. I was even allowed to sleep on the softest rocks in our Tora Bora studio cave. I minored in bomb making.

I tell you all of that to tell you this, I – like every member of the Republican Party – want to run for President in 2012. I figured I’d be a shoo-in with a platform of rolling government back to its state in 1850 and by being the first Presidential candidate running with two part-time Vice Presidential candidates. Michele Bachmann, because she looks so scrumptious in a bikini and always tells the truth as relayed to her by God. And, Sarah Palin because she looks adorable with that naughty school marm vibe she has going on. Plus, she said she could only be Vice President for half a term. She needed to take time off for the salmon fishing and snowmobile racing seasons.

Just as I was ready to launch my pre-campaign to decide whether I was going to kick off my exploratory committee leading to my final decision to announce, at some time in the future, that I thought I might be running, but tell everyone, “I might be running or I might not be running. That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Donald Trump called.

A ‘Fabulous Opportunity’
Of course I met with The Donald™ – that’s what his friends call him. I believe I’m the third or fourth friend he has. I’m so honored. During the meeting he told me he had a fabulous opportunity for me. He said, “I have a fabulous opportunity for you.”

He said, “I’m richer than God and the smartest man in the world too. Of course, that goes without saying. I know I can talk to you like I’ll talk to Cesar Chavez and convince him to give us his oil for free. Nothing to it. It’s an exciting, fabulous, stupendous piece of cake. I’d offer him a casino or a missile up his butt and he’d be all over the deal. Fantastic. Smart man, that Chavez. No nose for business though. Not like me. I’m world-famous. I even have my own university for God’s sake.”

“Um Mr. Trump, I’m a little confused. Why did you invite me to this fabulous, high-end Waffle House to talk?”

Mr. Trump Loves the Waffles
“Well first, I love the waffles. But I really want to make you a deal, because you know, I know, you know what a fabulous businessman I am.”

“Here’s the deal. A really good deal. Fantastic actually. You show me your birth certificate – because we all know you’re lying about having one – and I’ll release my tax information. I gave the same deal to Obama, but the man is an imbecile. Turned me down. Shows why I’m rich and he’s not.”

“Of course everyone would read it and see just how rich I am. Mega-rich! Uber-rich! Richest man in the world, no matter what Forbes says! They always hated me for being so rich, but I’m going to buy their lying asses out. It’ll be a fabulous deal.”

“So when can we sign the papers? I’ll even let you keep the luxurious gold Bic embossed with the Trump logo if you want.”

That’s how I came to tell this story now. My campaign is in ruins. I told the truth about not being a citizen and Mr. Trump released his taxes. He was right, it caused quite a stir.

Mr. Trump offered me a lot of money, a fabulous amount actually, to go away. That’s how I’ve become a rich man like Mr. Trump. I have millions now and Mr. Trump found me a fabulous new job as Venezuelan oil minister. I get to do super deals and money is no object. I’m smarter now that I’m rich too. Cesar and I go to dinner all the time. We’re great friends because we’re both so rich and I still have that butt-missile Mr. Trump gave me wholesale (because multi-millionaires never pay retail). But I’m terribly sad about one thing … I really miss Sarah and Michele. We could really do some fancy clubbing down here. I even have a penthouse in the Trump Caracas Holiday Inn.

Fabulous! Just super-gargantuous really!

Cross posted at The Omnipotent Poobah Speaks!

 

My Conversation With Donald Trump

OK, I admit it. I’m not a US citizen. I’ll never be President. I’ll be a permanent member of the no-fly list and my phone will be constantly bugged. Jan Brewer will kick me out of the country because I have no papers proving who I am or where I was born. I’m very disappointed to find I’m some sort of exotic, white “anchor baby“.

Note to self: Avoid Arizona.

Now I know what it’s like to be Barack Hussein Obama – if that is indeed his real name.

Family legend said I was born in Elkins, WV. But sorting through my personal papers I was unable to find a real birth certificate bearing the imprint of Orly Taitz‘s signet ring in wax. In fact, I don’t even have a pitiful “Certificate of Live Birth” like Obama’s. All I have is a scrap of paper looking as though it’s been ripped from a ship’s log. All it says is, “A kid was born just off the coast of Somalia during our last pirate takeover. Don’t know his name. Not sure of the date, but it wasn’t long ago. But this is all the proof he needs to show he was actually born. He’ll probably grow up to be a liberal communist anyway.” It was signed and Ensign Hikaru Hussein Sulu.

My Mom Was a Nigerian Official’s Wife
As I dug deeper, I learned I’d been abandoned to a Norfelia Lumbago, the wife of a Nigerian government official who couldn’t access his money held up in Banco Lagos until he came out of exile. Apparently, I had a very poor childhood. Mom never did get the money.

From Lagos, I went to a madrasa in Pakistan where I learned a useful trade making amateur Betamax videos for worldwide news distribution. It was a very prestigious career. I was even allowed to sleep on the softest rocks in our Tora Bora studio cave. I minored in bomb making.

I tell you all of that to tell you this, I – like every member of the Republican Party – want to run for President in 2012. I figured I’d be a shoo-in with a platform of rolling government back to its state in 1850 and by being the first Presidential candidate running with two part-time Vice Presidential candidates. Michele Bachmann, because she looks so scrumptious in a bikini and always tells the truth as relayed to her by God. And, Sarah Palin because she looks adorable with that naughty school marm vibe she has going on. Plus, she said she could only be Vice President for half a term. She needed to take time off for the salmon fishing and snowmobile racing seasons.

Just as I was ready to launch my pre-campaign to decide whether I was going to kick off my exploratory committee leading to my final decision to announce, at some time in the future, that I thought I might be running, but tell everyone, “I might be running or I might not be running. That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Donald Trump called.

A ‘Fabulous Opportunity’
Of course I met with The Donald™ – that’s what his friends call him. I believe I’m the third or fourth friend he has. I’m so honored. During the meeting he told me he had a fabulous opportunity for me. He said, “I have a fabulous opportunity for you.”

He said, “I’m richer than God and the smartest man in the world too. Of course, that goes without saying. I know I can talk to you like I’ll talk to Cesar Chavez and convince him to give us his oil for free. Nothing to it. It’s an exciting, fabulous, stupendous piece of cake. I’d offer him a casino or a missile up his butt and he’d be all over the deal. Fantastic. Smart man, that Chavez. No nose for business though. Not like me. I’m world-famous. I even have my own university for God’s sake.”

“Um Mr. Trump, I’m a little confused. Why did you invite me to this fabulous, high-end Waffle House to talk?”

Mr. Trump Loves the Waffles
“Well first, I love the waffles. But I really want to make you a deal, because you know, I know, you know what a fabulous businessman I am.”

“Here’s the deal. A really good deal. Fantastic actually. You show me your birth certificate – because we all know you’re lying about having one – and I’ll release my tax information. I gave the same deal to Obama, but the man is an imbecile. Turned me down. Shows why I’m rich and he’s not.”

“Of course everyone would read it and see just how rich I am. Mega-rich! Uber-rich! Richest man in the world, no matter what Forbes says! They always hated me for being so rich, but I’m going to buy their lying asses out. It’ll be a fabulous deal.”

“So when can we sign the papers? I’ll even let you keep the luxurious gold Bic embossed with the Trump logo if you want.”

That’s how I came to tell this story now. My campaign is in ruins. I told the truth about not being a citizen and Mr. Trump released his taxes. He was right, it caused quite a stir.

Mr. Trump offered me a lot of money, a fabulous amount actually, to go away. That’s how I’ve become a rich man like Mr. Trump. I have millions now and Mr. Trump found me a fabulous new job as Venezuelan oil minister. I get to do super deals and money is no object. I’m smarter now that I’m rich too. Cesar and I go to dinner all the time. We’re great friends because we’re both so rich and I still have that butt-missile Mr. Trump gave me wholesale (because multi-millionaires never pay retail). But I’m terribly sad about one thing … I really miss Sarah and Michele. We could really do some fancy clubbing down here. I even have a penthouse in the Trump Caracas Holiday Inn.

Fabulous! Just super-gargantuous really!

Cross posted at The Omnipotent Poobah Speaks!

 

Protesters Storm Park to Force Obama Out as Kenyan President

WASHINGTON – In a move shockingly similar to anti-government protests in Tunisia and Egypt, demonstrators have forcibly taken over a telephone booth in Washington’s Lafayette Park to demand Barack Obama step down as President of Kenya.

Early reports indicate the protest turnout swelled a dramatic 33% as Sarah Palin joined fellow protesters Orly Taitz and Michele Bachmann in their crusade. In an effort to clamp down on the protest, the Kenyan Communications Ministry cut service to the phone booth, severing the trio’s access to the outside world. Access to Fox News has also been cutoff within the boundaries of the park and the cell phone batteries of the protest organizers were dead.

Click for Video >>

Left with no other means of communication, protest leader Orly Taitz attempted to hand-deliver a list of demands to the White House. However, she was driven away from the White House gates by the Obama family‘s Portugese Water Dog, Bo.

Chemical Attack Threat
Taitz claimed the dog had launched a chemical attack against her, but laboratory analysis of the liquid that came in contact with Taitz’s leg revealed the “chemical” was nothing more than odoriferous, but harmless, dog urine.

Taitz, Bachmann, and Palin called a news conference to explain their demands shortly after noon.

“We demand Barack Obama step down as President of Kenya,” Taitz said. “It’s clear that not only does Mr. Obama have no valid US birth certificate, he has no Kenyan birth certificate either.”

A pool reporter from Brietbart News asked if the women were aware that Obama is not the current President of Kenya.

“No I didn’t, but that don’t matter because you can betcha he’s not the President of North America either,” Palin said. “Lookit here, I can see Nairobi from my front porch and he’s always in there messin’ around with all the other executive branch activists. Everbody knows this misuncertainism surrounding Obama is nothing more than a lamestream media scam to attract attention away from me.”

“By the way, I’m not saying I’m not running in 2012, but I am…not running, that is. I might even run for President of Kenya too. It can’t be that hard if Nobama can do it,” Palin added.

Bachmann was quietest if the three, offering little directly related to the protest. However, she did seem to have her own agenda.

The ‘Usurper Obama’
“That whole business out in Cairo, Illinois the other day is just symptamatic of the socialist’s hold over our America. With the usurper Obama in power, we know and can prove every right-thinking, God-terrorized person in America will be rounded up and put into a FEMA-run concentration camp,” she explained.

“I had expected to become Speaker of the House when Republicans took power away from the Democrats, but Kenyan agents of the Obama legion messed with my calendar and I missed the voting,” Bachmann screeched. “So now that I don’t have anything to do, I’m going to run for President in 2012 on the Kenyan Tea Party ballot.

The protesters were evasive when asked why they chose Washington as the site for a protest about events in another country.

“It was a small miscalculation on my part,” Palin said. “I thought the whole thing was about Obama being the non-President of the United Skates, so I bought tickets to Washington. Who knew Washington and Kenyan were different countries?

The White House has refused to comment about the protests.

Cross posted at The Omnipotent Poobah Speaks!

 

 

 

Tea Party Protests White House Turkey Pardon

WASHINGTON (AP) – President Barack Obama performed an annual Thanksgiving tradition on Wednesday by pardoning a pair of turkeys named Apple and Cider.

The two 45-pound birds who got a new lease on life, were selected from a group of 25 turkeys during a competition “that involved strutting their stuff before a panel of judges, with an eclectic mix of music playing in the background,” Obama said. “We were hoping for Bristol Palin as the first choice, but the voting seems to have been rigged,” Obama chuckled in high spirits. “Besides, I’d never pardon her anyway.”

Despite the good luck of the fowl, the event was marred by Tea Party activists from around the country. The protesters, many dressed in pilgrim attire to honor the holiday, held signs saying, “Eat the Damned Bird You Commie!”, “Go Ahead and Eat IT! You’re the Top of the Food Chain!”, and “Drive the Muslin Turkkey [sic] Birds Out!”. One protester held high a sign saying, “Evolution is a Crock! Dinoturkeys Ain’t Real”.

Muslim Turkeys
While the protest seemed to lack a central focus, many Tea Party members expressed outrage on the legitimacy of a pardon to turkeys that they charge were raised at Muslim madrases in Pakistan.

“Pardoning these birds is nothing but the first step toward death panels,” one protester who declined to identified said. “The Messiah there is a complete moran [sic]. There he goes wasting big old birds that could feed a family of 90. I don’t care if them fambilies [sic] are trying to get by on a $1.35 a month. To hell with those damned lazy gold-brickers. Give me the damned turkey, I work for a living! Poor people don’t pay a god*damned penny in taxes! I say beat the commie scum with a drumstick until they bleed gravy.”

Other protesters also questioned the birth origin of the pardoned fowl.

“Everybody knows the Obamanation is a Kenyan commie. We done asked repeatedly where he keeps his birth certificate and he never has produced one and neither has one of his filthy birds,” said Jed Pickens who traveled from Branson, MO to attend the rally. “That Orly Taitz lady is right. He ain’t fit to be the President and those turkeys ain’t fit for an American table.”

Mary Hottalot of Front Royal, VA agreed. “Obviously these ain’t American birds like the proud eagle and wholesome hootie owl. Nope, these are foreign agents working undercover for a Muslim power. Is it a coincidence they call them turkeys? I don’t think so. They birds are most definitely birds direct from Turkey, which I’ll have you know, is a Muslim country.”

Seth Foreman, a plumber from Pulaski, VA said, “I heard those Muslim birds just up and flew into the Twin Towers -well more like walked real fast into the lobby on account of them not being able to fly. You can’t trust them. They just aren’t Christian birds, like your chickens or your starlings. They’re big. They can carry a buttload of C4″

Some protesters were upset at changes in the ceremony introduced by the Obama administration after the Bush administration’s departure.

“This was a sober ceremony back in the day,” said Zeke Knight, a farmer from South Carolina. “Why, that Mr. Bush treated these birds right. While Obama just lets them off the hook without a military tribunal or nothing, Bush had a solid avian policy. He knew how to handle dangerous Islamoturkey killers.”

“By God, Bush lined them all up in a row and a real Vice President, Dick Cheney, bit the heads off and burned them in a big bonfire. We liked to call it cleansing by the fires of Hell,” Knight said. “Sometimes he got a little sloshed and took potshots at them too.”

Tea Party Draws ‘Substantial’ Crowd
White House officials estimated the crown at no more then 10. Tea Party spokespeople characterized the crowd as slightly larger, based on estimates provided by Fox News. “We had 200,000, maybe even a million people here. We would have gotten more, but the backyard of this place is pretty small and we couldn’t get anyone else in,” said Heather Haskell Director of Disinformation at the Rupert Murdock School of Journalism at Regent University.

White House officials said the crowd was mostly orderly, although there was an $879 bill for the clean up of RC Cola bottles and Moon Pie wrappers strewn on the lawn near the Rose Garden.

“And don’t raise my taxes to pay for picking up the mess either,” said a departing protester firing a parting shot. “Me and those business bigwigs deserve a big tax cut for putting up with such shenanigans as these.”

The pardoned fowl left the ceremony in a limousine provided by meat and poultry processor Foster Farms. The birds answered no questions as ‘bodyguards’ held the assembled media at bay with what appeared to be semi-automatic hatchets.

The telephone at the birds’ shared coup went unanswered later in the afternoon, prompting one anonymous White House official to speculate something ominous may have happened to the plump and juicy birds.

Cross posted at The Omnipotent Poobah Speaks!

 

 

Diaries

Advertise Blogads