Barack Obama Is Sick of Your Crap

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Hey gang! Aren't you psyched that it's Friday? Woot woot! The weekend is here and we are going to par-tay! Am I right? Haha, no, of course I am joking. For you there will be no parties, only an endless journey to a dark and thankless grave whilst warbling "At the End of the Day" fromLes Mis. And the winter is coming on fast, ready to kill! Let's find out whether your President had a better week than you did.


On Friday, the President paid "a surprise visit to Afghanistan." This is exactly the same thing as "sex by surprise." We can only hope that Barack Obama and his future cellmate Julian Assange both remember to use condoms whilst blowing or bumfuckeling each other's buttholes. Anyway the troops were all, "Yeah, if you appreciate us so hard, why don't you get us the fuck out of here?" And he was all, "Life is more complicated than that and war isn't a simple black-or-white issue. Someone else made this mess, and I have to clean it up. Plus, this is a volunteer army, bitches, it's not like your asses got drafted. What did you think you were signing up for, a giant LARP session?" And then the troops were all, "Let's start a war in your native country of Hawaii next time, mmkay?" and Barack was all, "Shut up you guys, seriously." And then he left in a hufflepuff.

On Monday, our commander-in-chief traveled all the way to North Carolina to announce, "Fuck, you people are stupid. I mean all of you, not just the North Carolina citizens in this audience. I know you guys have a chip on your shoulder because you think the rest of the nation thinks you Southerners are dumb. I'm here to point out that all Americans are fat, drooling idiots with Spray-Cheez where their brains should be." Then he made a retro Sputnik reference and the assembled masses clapped slowly because the big flashing light with the image of the two hands told them to put their palms together and smack, smack, smack. Then there was a celebratory paste-eating party.

On Tuesday, Barack Obama made his now-famous "Shut the fuck up, you fucking pussies" speech at the White House. Really it was a press conference, and bitch was just letting off steam like always he do when he got his period, but it felt like the bestest, most polio-free fireside chat combined with "I Have a Dream" crossed with "We're more popular than Jesus now," except the opposite of that last part.

On Wednesday, B-donka-donk said that no tax compromise would have "cost our economy nearly a million jobs." After he uttered these words, bells and whistles went off, confetti descended from the ceiling, lights started flashing, and it was time for a DISCO BREAK! Everyone at the White House dropped what he or she was doing, got their asses into the Blue Room, and commenced doing the hustle to that song that goes, "DO THE HUSTLE! Doot doot doot doo-doot doo doo doot doot..." The song was performed live by the ghosts of DEAD IRAQI CHILDREN, bet you didn't see that coming, you guys! This shit just took a turn for the arrestingly poignant. I am the master of the darkly comic twist. You will all be invited to my Kennedy Center Honors/Mark Twain Award ceremony, where William Kennedy Smith's jowls will rape everyone for free.

On Thursday, Barazzle O'Bamzle and his adorable tween daughters lit a tree on fire while Michelle Obama sang a mysterious dirge for all the forest spirits lost to senseless Christmas slaughter.

Now it's Friday, and I guess Obamar had a date with Bill Clinton while poor Holbrooke and Geithner have dates with invasive hospital procedures (seriously, I feel bad. A blood clot and a kidney stone, respectively. Ugh, that shit is painful.)

Have a nice weekend, hoi polloi. Like Barack Obama, I'll be masturbating and crying while little demonic old people come out from beneath my bed and shriek a lot. Chris Isaak will make an appearance, and so will a random unidentified animal of some kind, and a gun, and a weird soundtrack. It'll be really fucking deep and if you don't get "it," or these references, you are so not allowed at my next transcendental meditation party. J/K, if you like this paragraph so far, you're dead tonight. It's the surprise darkly comic twist of the season!

Sara Benincasa is Wonkette's bureau chief of keeping track of what's his name, that one guy, Obamar.

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