RALEIGH, N.C.- In a state that President Obama won by less than 14,000 votes in the 2008 election, a new poll released shows that Obama’s approval rating has fallen to 48%. The goal of the Obama camp is to target certain voters: young people, minorities, the Eco-friendly, basketball players, the wealthy, the poor, dog owners, cat lovers, nuclear physicists, weird people that wrap themselves and sleep with snakes, garbage men, children, dead people, imaginary friends, animals, stop signs, invalids, homeless, illiterates, cognitively challenged, employers of Red Lobster, aliens, hippies, drug addicts, rock stars, criminals, drunks, pine trees, frequent fliers, left handed guitar players, weeping willows, lampposts, people that play croquet, daffodils, individuals that hate Obama, individuals that love Obama and, finally, all republicans to vote for him in a big way.
November 5th, 2008 Joe Don Mitchell, at that time, third in command of Obama’s election committee, knew his boss had won and he was super pumped, big time, just jazzed, but he had one thing he needed to check. He walked into a room in the White House where the results of the voting were being displayed, studied and analyzed.
He marched straight to the North Carolina war center. His boss, now the forty-fourth President of the United States of America, had won North Carolina by less than 14,000, the first Democrat since Jimmy Carter in 1976. Mitchell was pumped, super pumped, but that wasn’t the real reason he went over there. He picked up the direct line to the chief adviser in North Carolina, “Raymond, what are the results with the triple blind testing we did there?”
“Mitchell, is this line clear?”- Raymond
“Of course it is, Raymond. What do you take me for, some type of a third rate blubbering brass section of a marching band?! I’m in the fucking White House! Shit! No one ever records conversations because of the chance that it may come back to bite them right on testicle, hard, seriously super hard.” – Mitchell
“What was I thinking Joe? I’m sorry, yes, I have the results. Would you like me to fax them over you to? – Raymond
“Fax? Fax! Jumping juice bucket, Raymond, why don’t you walk right out of your stupid front door, grab the first damn bull horn you can find and just proclaim from a boulder the results! Christ, Raymond use your brain, if you were blessed enough to be given one by the sweet God up above. – Mitchell
“Ok, let me just put the finishing touches on the appearance of these findings and I will go get that done for you Joe.” – Raymond
“Sweet Nectar of the Old Goat, did you really think I was fucking serious?!” – Mitchell
“Oh, so you weren’t serious then? I knew it, you’re a funny guy Joe.” – Raymond
“Yeah, I’m a regular Justin Marshall over here. Anyway, just change all names of people to the typical replacement names. Leave the data alone, I will take care of that myself. I want you to take the report and find the GOD DAMNEDEST BEST BINDER you’ve ever laid your eyes on and put it in there! Put it together with all the color coordination, the little labels and all the jazz that the college professors would mark you down for if they didn’t felt you used enough glitter. Next take that beautiful collection of data, find a sack of potatoes, empty the sack, put the binder in it and then dump the potatoes back on the binder. Send the potatoes with Nancy Mullingsmythe of food services, special delivery. ” – Mitchell
“I will do that immediately Joe, it will be in your office within the hour.” – Raymond
“Tigerlilly Raymond, don’t you fuck this up. If you do, it will be your last lay. Bye.”
“Don’t worry Joe Don, it’s handled, it’s handled.”
“Shit yes it is.” click.
Tigerlily Raymond exploded with quite possibly the biggest, longest, most powerful sigh that any 7’2″ 315 pound man could ever let escape the body. “What a dick.” Raymond said as he started putting together the binder. “All this guy ever does is boss me around and he must think I’m one step from the nut house or something for how stupid he thinks I am.”
Raymond picked up the phone, “get me Nancy Mullingsmythe, Jane.”
“Ok, Raymond, yes sir, right away, coming right up, on the double.” – Jane
Raymond closed his eyes tightly and waited. After a moment he heard a click an a woman say “Mullingsmythe.”
“Hey, Nancy it’s Raymond, I have a job for you.”- Raymond
“Oh, a job huh? You know you can just text me if you want to have phone -” -Mullingsmythe
Raymond cut her off, “No, I have a real job, it’s urgent.” – Raymond
“Oh, boy, it’s always urgent with you.” – Mullingsmythe
“Stop it, seriously, after I tell you what you need to do for Joe Don Mitchell, you will not be turned on whatsoever.” – Raymond
“Ok, prude, what the heck is the BIG job?”- Mullingsmythe
“You’ll find out soon enough, come to Warehouse 3502-C, bring a sack of potatoes.”
– Raymond
“Sack? Potatoes? Warehouse 3502-C? I don’t like the sounds of this, Tigerlilly. It’s is just to fishy for me” – Mullingsmthe
“Good, Warehouse 3502-C is by the wharf. Now get moving we don’t have much time.” – Raymond …click….
Local Woman Has Earth Changing Realization
Toledo, OH- Local woman Sherri Higginmelonsmithsonton, 41 was sitting in her favorite chair reading the sports section of the Toledo Blade when she suddenly dropped it on the ground and exclaimed to no one in particular “I’m pretty sure that the hardest job in the United States would be the President.” After this deeply personal inner reflection she stood up, walked to the office, turned on the computer, typed in www.facebook.com and updated her status as follows: “I know some of you aren’t going to agree with me, but if you don’t like it just delete me or I will delete you, but I sorta think that being the President of the United States has to be hardest job in America, or at least Washington, D.C.”
At press release Sherri had one like and twenty one comments, most of them stating that actually their jobs were tougher and of higher stress day to day. Sherri hasn’t deleted anyone yet.
Stay Tuned.
Coyote Rush
P.S.
Oliver Pepper is still in jail.