Think about it. With Barack Obama in office, assholes like us will fade into a distant unpleasant memory. Don’t get us wrong, we’ll still be hanging around, probably as junior staffers in some federal arts agency. But you have our word on it — we’ll be practically invisible. No more C-word t shirts, no more intersection blockades, no more vandalism until the next election cycle. Nosirree, we’ll be timid and well-behaved and quiet as church mice, working away on grant proposals. We think you will also be pleased to know that under Obama, negative news stories and the steady flow of shitty anti-American war movies will virtually disappear overnight.
We know what you’re thinking — “that sounds awesome, but what about the angry right wingers? Won’t they suddenly start storming congressional hearings and vandalizing military recruiting stations? Won’t they start producing Obama assassination fantasy plays at the local college?” Don’t worry, as members of the incoming Administration, we will identify any potential troublemakers and prosecute them to the full extent of President Obama’s new civility laws. And with the re-establishment of the Fairness Doctrine, you won’t have to worry about accidentally tuning into right wing hate radio.
John McCain’s bid for the Oval Office suffered another stunning blow yesterday when the Arizona senator referred to Barack Obama, the 44th President of the United States, as “my opponent.” The campaign-shattering remark came during a vicious, Hitlerian speech before an audience of drooling right-wing drones in one of those states in the middle, possibly rectangular.
“I believe that we should do things one way,” McSame sneered, his shrunken, twisted body and hideous visage producing overwhelming revulsion in all sane people who beheld him. “But my opponent feels we should do things a different way.”
Yes, Treacher’s ahead of the curve. My hat is off to him, because these people continue to get ever harder to satirize.
Speak to me, O Muse, of this resourceful man
who strides so boldly upon the golden shrine at Invescos,
Between Ionic plywood columns, to the kleig light altar.
Fair Obamacles, favored of the gods, ascends to Olympus
Amidst lusty tributes and the strumming lyres of Media;
Their mounted skyboxes echo with the singing of his name
While Olbermos and Mattheus in their greasy togas wrassle
For first honor of basking in their hero’s reflected glory.
Who is this man, so bronzed in countenance,
So skilled of TelePropter, clean and articulate
whose ears like a stately urn’s protrude?
So now, daughter of Zeus, tell us his story.
And just the Cliff Notes if you don’t mind,
We don’t have all day.