The Stout Republican

Most days start early enough. I wake up to the smells of fresh coffee, and the sound of my Reagan alarm clock (rings like freedom). I yawn, and scratch my shapely bottom through my Karl Rove emblem pajamas (much like Superman pajamas, but they smell like won presidential campaigns when freshly washed).

It’s then straight over the fax machine, where I pick up my Right Wing talking points (faxes are harder to intercept over a secured line than emails…plus I’m old school like that). I hope that I get the same copy Rush and Hannity to, but in the echelon of the “Vast Right Wing Conspiracy” I am but a small player. Number 2 always emphasizes the fact that I should talk and talk about liberal media, lest the public find out it is truly conservative, and as long as my mouth is flapping, idiots are receptive…right?

I kiss my wife on the cheek, then promptly punch her in the face, forcing her to wake up and cook me a strong neo-con breakfast (the eggs are fried over crude oil, and sprinkled with salt and the tears of babies). It’s at about this time I stand in front of the mirror, and flex. Conservatives are damn sexy if I don’t say so myself. After about twenty-three minutes of this (give or take a minute depending on the cycles of the moon), I jump into the shower (again, babies tears) and wash not with soap, but the shattered dreams of the working class…all Conservatives believe in screwing the working class…and then call and complain to the company that made said soap, because it is not fragrant enough, and I want a free bar, at the expense of a lower class garnished wage.

Now, Fox news comes on…I must make sure that the general public has not learned the Truth (yes, different that merely truth, the facts are always in caps) about Iraq (daddy’s oil), Afghanistan (daddy’s oil), and Ford (…). I now pray to the Neo Con Gods that they bring me wealth, vast quantities of it, that I can spend on rich things not produced by Americans, but another country that doesn’t need the money (but still supports America and the war)…again, we like to screw the working class. I then go to my job, one of the special ones where I don’t pay taxes, where my day is not spent working, but instead is spent smoking cigars, burning money, rigging the media, and trying to think of ways to screw the Clintons out of another presidency:

“Maybe if we throw another more than adequately curvaceous woman his way…we can mess things up. Is it possible to impeach an ex-president in an attempt to continue to fool America?”

To which I hear:

“Maybe if we throw a woman at Hillary, we’ll see the same happen.”

And we all have a laugh at lesbians…then minorities…and back to lesbians. It’s at this point that Rush Limbaugh shows up…high on oxycontin, but it’s 11 am, and we’re all drunk on fine brandy and over priced scotch, so no one really notices. “Ditto, Ditto, Ditto.” It echoes pleasantly through the stone chamber made using modern slave labor, and financed by the Jews (Joooooooooos).

Lunch is spent eating steak, baby steak, preferable Kobe Veal (it exists for us right wingers) from a cute little cow that was hopefully tortured by over zealous Kentuckians (it’s a red state) before being inhumanely slaughtered and put on to my plate…rare. I don’t finish, and I make sure that the leftovers are laced with strychnine before being put into the garbage. We also hate the poor.

At the end of the day I jump into my chauffeured Cadillac, where I engage in past deadline, insider trading, to ensure that I stay rich and (again) I screw the working class. I avoid conversation with the driver at all times…he is beneath me.

When I get home, I promptly punch my wife in the face, drink an aged scotch, and it’s off to the mistress, for whom I buy things like fur, diamonds, and made to order exotic puppies. I can’t ever cheat, because as a rich Republican, I am also incapable of pleasing a woman, and would rather please myself to images of Richard Nixon and George Bush the first. I am by nature attracted to evil power, but only when supplied by rich white men.

I then post a blog on my heavily biased, government subsidized hate machine web site. I make sure the edit the comments of my “opponents” (planted) so that they appear ignorant, and uninformed.

Sometimes I put a “fact” (hahaha) in quotes, because although it is a lie generated by the Right Wing media, I can give my opinion full credibility when blockquoted. It’s a vicious circle of lies quoting lies where I am the absolute winner, and hopefully somewhere the working class (some may call it middle) is being bent over a table.

Before bed I pray that calamities befall the following:

Tim Robbins

Susan Sarandon

Sean Penn

Barbara Streisand

George Clooney

And of course…any living Kennedy…but mostly Sean Penn.

I crawl into bed, where after kissing my wife, and again punching her so she doesn’t get hope, and threatening her with, “If you ever leave me…”, I fall asleep and dream of the end times, and the full economic collapse of Canada.

- The Stout Republican

Humor, Random, Rant