Reader beware: This story contains politics and satire! Fake news! Wishful thinking!
Twas the night before Xmas and all through the house –…
Voice of Doom: NO! NO! You pinheaded, bird-brained bobby soxer! Twas the night before the inauguration of Joe the Old Guy and Wonder Woman, whose election was as kosher as kreplach. Which, by the way, are not Jewish wontons. Oy, you’re so sensitive! Okay then…
Welcome, voyeurs and rubberneckers, to Amy Klobuchar’s brain. Watch it sizzle with hallucinatory politics and satire and fantastical images of her servile sycophants.
Snitchy Mitchy McConnell. Teddy Swamp Thing Cruz. Lard Ass Bill Barr. Two-Faced Lindsay Graham. Marco the Bootlicker Rubio.
Ablaze in psychedelic neon, Amy’s neurons are hot to trot, leaping maniacally across synapses like paintballs on steroids. Their electric bodies flash Revenge as they run rampant through the Wonderland of Amy’s dream state. Call her Alice.
Amy’s Dormant Desires Revealed
Amy’s head trip begins at the Capitol steps where Moses has risen from the dead to lead Amy’s star-crossed ass-kissers in singing, Na na na na, na na na na, hey hey, hey, goodbye! {Fashion note: the boys sport orange jumpsuits designed by Kanye West, MENSA member and recipient of a MacArthur “genius” grant.}
Alighting from her dream machine, a hot pink ‘65 Mustang, Amy holds a can of Corona in one hand and a kosher hot dog with relish in the other. Wiping bits of green pickle from her lips, Amy greets the group.
“Hello, you dimwitted doughnut holes. Welcome to the Losers National Embarrassment & Punishment Team, AKA INEPT. As INEPTers, you’ll be doing humiliating community service in front of an audience of millions. Yesiree, minions, you’re goin’ viral! (Example of politics and satire) Then you’ll paddle up the river without a canoe while singing, Does Your Chewing Gum Lose Its Flavor on the Bedpost Over Night? I hope you can swim.
“Your destination: Bernie Sandals’ rec room where he and a bunch of hairy Vermont hippies, smoking doobies and distilling CBD oil, will program you to scream ‘Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’ whenever you see a Republican. Glory Hallelujah and pass the Polish sausage! Oh, my. How phallic. Speaking of phallic, did you soulless flotsam know that John Legend is headlining our virtual inaugural gloat-fest? Oh, Johnnee. Your eyes. Your lips. Your hips. You betcha!
“As your withered reptilian pea brains can imagine, this is a day I’ve dreamed about and, apparently, am dreaming about right now: when Joey and Kam Kam clasp hands and lead half the nation in We Are the Champions.”
A Quick Break for an Existential Question
“But before we get down to beeswax, I have a question for you bottom-feeding toadies. How in the world was it a good idea for your Capitol thugs to shout, ‘hang Mike Pence’ and sit in Fancy Nancy’s big girl chair? And then post selfies and videos on social media? While trying to bring down the government?
“Ponder these existential questions as I apply Costco’s Amore Passion & Fire Red Lipstick to my mid-westernly thin lips. I am ravishing! Ahhh, what a perfect morning for the presidential hug-fest and Republican buzz kill. It’s a great day to be the best gosh darn-it Senator from Wisconsin!”
{Politics and satire alert: “I looked up the word ‘politics’ in the dictionary, and it’s actually a combination of two words:’poli,’ which means ‘many,’ and ‘tics,’ which means ‘bloodsuckers’.” Jay Leno
Fancy Nancy Steals the Limelight
Nancy Pelosi: (ducking behind Swamp Thing as a neuron the size of Bill Barr’s ass explodes) “Pssst…Senator…You’re not from Wisconsin. You’re from Minnesota, the land of 1,000 bowling alleys.”
Amy: “Jeez, Fancy Nancy, when did that happen?”
Nancy: (taking cover behind Snitch McC as a neuron the size of Two-Faced Lindsay’s itsy-bitsy moral compass blows a gasket) “You’ve always been from Minnesota, you third-rate dresser.”
Amy: “Should I change my outfit, Fancy Nancy?”
Nancy: (gagging) “No. Your saggy poncho and pull-up polyester pants are perfectly ghastly in either state. But bejeebers, Senator, your mask doesn’t match your ensemblay!”
Amy: “Yes, sir, Fancy Nancy! Yes, ma’am! Gotcha. You betcha. OK…Back to my boobies…I mean doobies…I mean, back to work, babies! Now you empty vessels, listen up. I did NOT like wearing combat attire while prone on the Senate floor, waiting for a bunch of juiced-up lunk heads in sheepskin onesies to smash down the door and take me hostage. What a bona fide shit show. Especially for us gal-pal Senators given that we hadn’t had time to shave our legs, being so busy with the presidential erection.”
Nancy: (retching) “Pssst…Senator…Get your mind out of the gutter.”
Amy: “And now that the electrical college has – .“
Nancy: (awestruck by such dimwittidy) “Senator…electoral…not electrical…”
Amy: “Jeez, Fancy Nancy, when did that happen?”
Nancy: “Senator, are you drunk?”
Amy: “No, sir! No, ma’am! Gotcha. Hiccup. You betcha. Hiccup.”
Amy’s Fever Dream Heats Up
“Alrighty now. Where’s Swamp Thing? Snap to it, Cruz, and kiss my Minnesota butt. Hmmm. Now that I think about it, calling you ‘Swamp Thing’ is an insult to swamps.”
“Call him ‘shmendrik’, Senator Klobuchar.”
“Senator Schumer! Good to see you! And so fun to have a genuine New York Jew throw around some peachy-keen Yiddish insults. What does ‘shmendrik’ mean?”
“A weak, worthless person with a giant ego.”
“Oy, Chuck, faboolisky! But, if you want to know the truth, my favorite Yiddish word is ‘schlong’. Could you say ‘schlong’ while blowing in my ear?”
“Oy gevalt, Amy! You’re one hot babe. Schlonnng…Schlonnng…”
“Whew! Is it hot in here or is it just me? Thanks, Senator. That was a great blow job! Hey, Cruz, you shmendrik, you traveled to Cancun as your constituents were turning into ice pops. And when you came back, you blamed the trip on your kids. You’re such a class act. So, shmendrik, your job is to monitor the porta-potties. We only have five so things will get stinky. There’s extra toilet paper and hand sanitizer in the pickup truck. The one you stole from little Marco during the 2015 primaries. He’s still pissed as hell at you…By the way, where is Bootlicker?”
Bootlicker and Lowlife Are In the Building
“Here am I am, Senator. You look lovely this morning. I admire your outfit, your hair, your principles and your policies.”
“Marco, you snaky suck-up. Why don’t you tell shmendrik to go ‘F’ himself. You know you want to. OK. Your job is to kiss the asses of Bill Clinton, Barack Obama and Georgie Bush, after which you’ll serve them a light lunch in the Capitol rotunda. There’s a butler uniform in the men’s outhouse made just for your delightfully diminutive body. And try speaking with an English accent. The former Presidents will love it!
“And now, Lindsay, my lowlife boll weevil, your job is to feed finger food to Lady Gaga before she sings the national anthem. Then you’ll snuggle up at her feet with your tongue hanging out and a Marine honor guard will drop dog treats into your mouth. And you will be the sad dog, with the sad eyes, and the sad, wet nose, waiting for scraps from the table.”
Hell is Politics and Satire
“Alrighty then, you washed-up wankers. After the inauguration, we’ll all gather in the Capitol basement for a Tater Tot Hot Dish Supper. I cooked it last night before re-reading the Constitution and the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy. If you don’t eat every bite and beg for seconds, the FBI will force you to parade up Constitution Avenue wearing a MAGA hat, horns and a sheepskin bikini. Yup, I’m dishin’ out politics and satire. And you minions of Satin are caught right in the middle!
“Hell is real, boys! You betcha!”
over the top political from a non political
Reminds me of “Bob Dylan’s Dream” on the second album. I’m doing this from memory and I was thinking of that genre of songs that he created.
WOW!
Amazing political satire!!!
Bravo & encore, Amy
Rick
My first step into the arena of political satire. It’s really quite tricky. Any ideas, anyone, for future topics?