(Not the people who really work hard here like the drivers, grips, electricians, greensman, editors, carpenters, etc. – just us so very important ‘Stars’)

- on what YOU the World – can do to save our planet: (Listen up you nasty smelly little flyover stalker freaks.)

1.  Conserve Water!

(Don’t you dare water your 40′ x 100′ lawn. Let it go brown. We’ll keep swimming in our 3 pools, The infinity one in Malibu, and the two at the compound in Palm Springs.)

2. Airplanes are the grossest polluters. Fight Climate Change, take the bus, or ride your bike!

(All you little people, not us right now – we’re too busy with our awesome important star stuff, and we have a very important film festival to attend in a foreign country that mostly hates the U.S. and we just don’t want to miss out on this opportunity to knock America and Americans. P.S. the film is about Climate change, so it is very important we get there fast with our very snobby entourage.)

It’s high time we fix the earth for our children and our children’s children.

(Or my carpet-pooping maid-humping misbehaving half-assed show dog that is really like uh… my kid.)

We all need to change the way we live and CONSERVE NOW!

(You conserve, so WE can have our large mansion, with armed bodyguards, payed for by the most wasteful business on the planet that includes a private trailer on the back lot, with a carbon monoxide chugging gas-guzzle powered generator, long tables of uneaten food, climate controlled tents for lounging with our hanger-on loser friends in between shots that are cooled by A/C that’s powered by 4 honkin’ assed semis with cranking megawatt oop-dee-boop generators, then private Jetting to our mansion in East Hampton that sits empty three fourths of the year although being heated and cooled constantly, and of course our Jet-off lunch trysts in San Fran, Aspen, and sometimes just for kicks oh so FUNKY-FUNKY Mexico City, then jetting back to Van Nuys, jumping in the gas slugging super stretch and speeding – (not signaling at all)  and cutting everyone off on the 101 so as to get back to Universal in time for our masseuses who we won’t tip at all.)

THE TIME IS NOW TO REDUCE YOUR CARBON FOOTPRINT!

(You go first, as I am not a loser like you and can be excused from conserving, because the purpose of my life is to help all of you turds learn to respect the elite and powerfuls’ message of political peace and green global harmony.)

THIS IS EVERYONE’S PROBLEM,  NO MATTER WHAT POLITICAL AFFILIATION, RACE CREED, GENDER, OR SEXUAL ORIENTATION.

(As long as you are not Conservative  or Libertarian and be so insane as to oppose our idea of what we know constitutes an intelligent person. You’d better fit exactly into the box we want to put you in, ie: no gay conservatives, African American conservatives, artist conservatives, musician conservatives etc. because those fakers are shamefully wrongheaded, and just so very freakin’ unfashionable. …. Wait a sec, what the hell is a Libertarian anyway? )

THE CINEMATIC IMMUNITY CLAUSE

This contract’s previously mentioned  HOLLYWOOD STAR, having surpassed all normal standards of importance, (and now seeking revenge for being a high school nerd); shall not be held responsible for any and all of the following crimes, misdemeanors, torts, or traffic infractions:

1. Throwing chairs and injuring assistants or standers by.
2. Tantrums of any variety, in addition to chair or other furniture throwing.
3. Double-dipping in the Craft Service table Salsa bowls.
4. Driving around the cars of the ‘little people’ lined up at the security gate with your middle finger out.
5. Carbon foot-printing like a freakin’ Sasquatch Beeeotch.
6. Scratching your ass inside your pants then grabbing a handful of M&M’s from the bowl at the snack table.
7. Telling your P.A. “You f—ing  piece of sh-t, I told you I wanted to order lunch at 12:25 EVERY DAY! Not even a minute f—ing later or earlier you f—ing piece of sh-t.”
8. Not showing up at the Cast & Crew Screening.
9. Not showing up for your private screening.
10. Refusing to start  the private screening until someone ‘gets their head out of their ass and gets some friggin’decent popcorn!‘.
11. Having the flunky at the office fire someone in the afternoon that you told was doing an ‘aweome job mate!’ in the morning.
12. Stealing good story ideas and taking credit for them.
13. Stealing bad story ideas then blaming them on someone else.
14. Any other form of lying.
15. Never signaling while driving (drunk or otherwise.)
16. Complete phoniness, arrogance, and viciousness.
17. Utter contempt for all the people you clawed at and climbed over to get to the immune state.
18. Bad tipping.
19. No tipping.
20. Not caring if someone is sick, or even dying and then demanding to know why they are late.
21. Bringing your dog to the sound stage and demanding he/she have spring water and non cruelty organic fresh food.
22. Having the P.A. clean up the dog poop.
23. Never paying your fair share for the Starbucks run.
24. Leaving before the check comes to go somewhere ‘important’.
25. Punching your assistant for getting you a Business class seat.
26. Punching your assistant for anything else.
27. Insulting the lunch lady at the commissary for serving non ‘whole’ wheat bread, especially if she’s ugly.
28. Drugs.
29. Demanding everyone align their political thinking with yours; or else.
30. Smashing someones car with a 9 iron.
31. Smashing the craft service table with a putter.
32. 9 Ironing Chicken Tamales into the feet of your assistant whilst yelling “PICK IT UP! PICK IT F—ING UP!’
33. Any other use of sporting equipment to destroy or abuse.
34. Screaming “DO YOU FREAKING KNOW WHO I AM?!”
35. Making everyone wait – constantly.
36. Flipping over the craft service table because there aren’t any Biscotti.
37. Demanding your Green Tea be from Sri Lanka.
38. Demanding all spellings be of the British variety – such as; Colour, Favour, Cheque etc.
39. Demanding your luxury trailer and adjoining large sand coloured tent are a perfect 69 degrees, at 43% humidity, then demanding the A.D.  get another Semi loaded with generators to make it just so.
40. Demanding everyone on the set conserve energy.
41. Demanding your office be painted with non-odorous natural dye paint. Colour: Sand.
42. Screaming “IT’S MY F—ING MOVIE YOU NOBODY!” at 1 am in a hotel room hallway.
43. Kicking the maid in the hind quarters for not giving you higher thread-count sheets.
44. Throwing a telephone at the Bell Boy’s hind quarters for not finding you Blueberry juice at 4 am.
45. Drunk driving, having an accident, leaving the scene, scoffing at the injured.
46. Rape of a 13 Year old girl or boy.

“Let’s take a break fellas, I am sick of being in damage control mode. I gotta kick it for a few minutes” President Obama complained .

“Okay everyone, let’s leave the President alone for a bit of a rest” announces the President’s chief of staff, then whispering into his bosses ear he adds: “I think in a few days, our pals at CBS, NBC and ABC will have some surprises for them and this onslaught will stop. It’s just real tough trying to get anything on this Big Hollywood/Big Government bunch, they’re all pretty clean, even that nut Mannix.”

“He’s a Jackass.”

“Just rest up a few minutes Barack, – we’ll come back in shortly.”

With that the group left the room, and the President was unusually alone.

Ticking clock. — Distant siren. — Pounding headache.

Putting his feet up and shielding his eyes from the late September light streaming into the oval office, Mr. Obama tries desperately to turn off his brain for just five little minutes.

Tick,.. tock,.. tick,.. tock,.. tick,.. tock….. the beautiful antique clock meters off the seconds as the Chief Executive closes his eyes and tries to find a few minutes of peace. The comforting ticking of the clock continues, as if  shepherding his thoughts along a path towards some well needed rest. Almost there… moving along …tick,.. tock,.. closer … getting sleepy…tick… tock, tick… tock, tick—  then nothing. Beautiful silence.

“That’s what I had the Jelly Beans for.”

With a start, Obama lurched forward on the couch bursting out of his snooze. The impressive figure speaking before him held out a calming friendly hand as if to say; easy my friend I am here in peace.

“Yes, that’s what I had the Jelly Beans for…, I ate them on a break. It took me out of tense situations, so I could get a fresh perspective on things. Like a five minute vacation, you could say.”

Across from the young President sat an impressive figure of a man. Hair perfect. Suit handsome. Shoes shining. Smile charming.

“Well Mr. Obama, how do you get perspective on things?” Ronald Reagan asked. “What gives you peace?”

“Not much these days” said the dazed young President rubbing his eyes. ” I mean, Kennedy, Washington, Lincoln, now you. What the hell?”

“No, not ‘hell’ at all son, hel-p. We come here to try to help you realize some things. You’re our latest legacy son. We’ve a stake in this, …we love this nation and feel that you are being led down a path by some really misguided notions. Some from your special interest supporters and inner circle, some from inside your own head and heart.

Today, I’d like to talk to you about something you have called for in this nation. You called for ‘fundamental change’  during your campaign. Listen, our constitution is just about as perfect a document and instrument that living beings could ever come up with. I happen to believe it was inspired by God Almighty, through men, to create a great home for freedom to prosper, so that men may achieve, dream and give the way God intended. That document and this nation do not need fundamental change Barack. Tweaks yes. But fundamental change? No sir. That sir smacks of fundamental rights being distorted or even taken away.”

“Come on Mr. President, this nation was being ruined by a war waged by my predecessor,… this nation was in bad shape. Fundamental change is needed to make sure we don’t go back to those days of despair” Mr. Obama beseeches, in a slightly annoyed tone.

“Oh please cut that baloney with me Barack.  Your predecessor had just what you have; A war. Ignore it if you will, but it will still be there. They are still there. Tell me; what ever happened to those Code Pink Sirens outside this office? They aren’t blowin’ any more are they? You campaigned with all those others that were screaming ‘this war is lost’. Like hell it was. Darn fine job Bush did. Not perfect, but war never is. That guy was like a pit bull – his teeth sunk deep into his commitment to protect our nation, – and he never let go. Damn the polls, damn the popularity. Handle it in your style, but please literally for goodness sake, handle it.

And while we’re on the subject; it’s up to you not to pull an ‘LBJ’ in Afghanistan. Get your act in gear Mr. President and listen to your commanders on the ground.

Well my time is short, I am due back at the ranch. Gonna cut some wood.  Yes, that’s another thing that would give me perspective; good hard physical work. I was never one for the treadmill or the aerobics you know. So, Mr. President, I wish you piles and piles of therapeutic wood to cut, and may they solve your problems by healing your thoughts. Oh and one more thing, stop referring to yourself in the third person. It sounds pompous, and quite frankly, a little silly. Not to be a dime store Sigmund Freud, but by talking about ‘The President’, in the third person all the time  you sound a little defensive. You don’t have to announce the position.  You bear the responsibility, not the position…  you are the position.”

Slapping his knees lightly and standing up out of the chair, California’s favorite son sparkled a youthful smile and added; “It’s a service business you’re in Mr. President. You above all, are in the business of serving the nation. So my final advice to you Barack is simple, find yourself your own type of Jelly Bean break, and in those minutes search your soul, think of the people, and reflect on the genius of the document. No fundamental change needed there at all.”

Then touching President Obama lightly on the shoulder and motioning him back towards the couch, Ronald Reagan added;

“Hey, you know what?  You do look really very sleepy. You’d better get some rest there Mr. President.  Go ahead Barack, close your eyes… that’s it my friend, …listen to the clock. I always loved that clock.. the way it went; Tick…Tock,… tick ….tock,…”

Tick, …tock, …tick,…

Amazing. Digging in the parking lot at Barney’s Beanery in West Hollywood, (please don’t judge my hobbies), I found another set of the quizzical quatrains that heretofore have never been seen. This Nostra dude had it going on… and on.

QUATRAIN VICKS 44 XXII (Possibly Healthcare Town Hall meetings)

Yeah, the dwellers of the meeting in the hall of townsfolk,

Hath been shillithed by the men from the large white home,

Bringing a false love for the large plan of the nations medicines,

All good men, please turn your heads and cough.

QUATRAIN ACORNUS XXIV (The President?)

A rise too fast from the young town organizer to the great great office.

Leaves the man unable to lead.

Henchmen behind him say what he can’t, and at times say in the opposite, leaving Clintonous correct in prediction:

Holy crap, this all was a fairytale.

QUATRAIN IIIVI (The White House Czars?)

Sneaking in the back door of the laws of ethics

comes the ones named after the easterners.

Agencies of three letters do no looking

at the dubious achievements of some of these freakin’ mamalukes.

QUATRAIN (No number just GREEN DIAMONDS next to title) (Gore?)

Saving the land from the galloping ghosts of what may be,

He buildeth an industrious money changing machine,

With grand designs to the folk for smaller living and meager enjoyment, indeed the green he predicts will be in his pockets.

Although, through all, he still gets down with his bad self bling-bling style.

QUATRAIN  Chanel No.5 (Joe Wilson?)

And in the Great Hall of Pelosis,

A man is scorned for shouting out his belief .

Your hearts shall leapeth and shout out too;

Pick up a bigger  shovel you tools.

QUATRAIN IIIV (Van Jones?)

He doth say; the sad day – was done by the victims themselves,

He doth say; that the way to change money is for the rulers to own,

He doth say; things to part the races,

The Press didn’t say shit.

QUATRAIN 1.5 Million (Tea Party in D.C.?)

Yes  - the millions descend on the pillared planned city,

Yes –  the millions cried out as one , surpassing all recent crowds in size and peacefulness,

Yes –  the message was loud and clear even for those opposed.

No  -  there wasn’t any tingle up the leg for Chris Mathews.

QUATRAIN Triple E (More Joe Wilson?)

The one that throweth the shoe at the head of the leader,

Receives the lauds and laughs from the left of the great land.

The one that throweth a word, receives their righteous vile scorn.

This about sums it up dudes. Later.

“We’re here today, Mr. President, about the project that is due our studio, …on your contract,” the man with rectangular blue Goutier glasses crisply announces to the gathered party of the President and his people. He adds, “I assume Mr. Emanuel explained everything to you… Sir.

According to our pre-election agreement Mr. President, our television divisions were to provide you with substantially positive coverage, while at the same time focusing on the fringe of the losing party, and their…. ‘ideas.’ You know the birth certificate thing, the anti-Christ, …yada.”

(Smiles and chuckles about the room.)

“Ha! They just keep playing into our hands,” David Axelrod taps the President on the shoulder as he crosses the Oval Office. The President limps a tired thumbs up and a half hearted off-camera smile towards his Chief of Staff, but his focus remains on the young studio executive.

The executive continues; “We have here several scripts which we would like you to look through. All are favorable to you of course, and you’ll have final approval of the script and be able to see a preview of the film for any notes that you might have for us.”

“Notes?” President Obama asks.

“Notes, yes… creative suggestions, such as louder music there, or less laughter there, or cut that scene shorter…you know …notes.  Now today, we’re here to run some titles by you and then possibly zero in on one…or two,” the smart executive advises. 

So, here we are – I’ll just read them off and then give a brief synopsis of the plot.

First we have;  “A Tree Grows in Chicago” 

We figured we could ’split-screen’ the planting of an acorn, with the rise of a community organizer. Great imagery. Big, big sweeping score, a real tear-jerker. An edgy kind of modern urban-type John Ford film. It’s really a kind of a poem. Denzel, of course.

“Whistle Stop”

A bit of fun, kind of edgy-type drama picture. The inauguration train gets stopped by crazed Palin whackos, Michelle gets a little heroically violent with them and saves the day by tricking them into confessionals at a Baltimore church,… then locking them in.  Also, a bit of comic relief when the VP finds the key to the bar car.”

(Guffaws about the room)

“Denzel?” Asks the President. 

“Denzel, oh yes.” The young man assures.

“The Two O’s”

Oh, this is pure heaven. Two stories that meet in the end. Oprah’s struggle to media superiority, and a young handsome man from Hawaii’s rise to the Presidency.  Of course, Oprah will play herself, (except for the young girl parts), and you are yes; Denzel… of course.

“The Stinkers”

Oh, this one is fun. This is a Bush-bash from beginning to end! (Laughter) We open with Bush being really mean to the staff at the White house. He does all this mean crap, and then he curses out and kicks a gardener who’s down on his hands and knees toiling on the South Lawn.

“I heard he did that.” interjects an intern. (Most folks nod seriously in agreement.)

“There’s a montage part of the evil Bush presidency,” he continued, “and eventually after expeditiously exposing all the horror, the story takes on a bit of creative license with a hopeful peak into the future: The jailing of every single member of the Bush cabinet.”

“Not Gates or Powell, okay?” cautions the President.

“Ahhh notes! Okay. (The producer jots some notes in the, margin of the script.) Well, then of course Cheney and Bush get convicted of war crimes.” (More heads nod in agreement with smiles around the room.)

“Where do I come in this picture?” Asks the President.

“Well in this one you just make a very important appearance at the end. The climax of the film is you thankfully In the Oval Office, pondering a pardon of Bush and Cheney. We don’t exactly give the answer. But as you lift your pen to check either the ‘yes’ box, or the ‘no’ box on the pardon form, we fade out, then dolly onto the South Lawn. There we see the Bush-abused gardener snaring animals in a trap. We then reveal he’s just caught two big skunks! (Raucous laughter)  I think you get the idea.”

“Groundsweller”

This is a pure winner. Part documentary and part drama. We will use footage from the campaign, rallies, bus trips, coffee shops, you name it. A real Beatle-mania style, super energy movie. Fans, hugs, songs, tears of ground swelling excitement building, building, building to election day! We have some inside video that’s not very favorable to the McCain/Palin camp and we will show it in this film for the first time. Big tease in the ads and trailers. Should be an eye opener. Pure edgy stuff.

“You gotta be careful this one is not too Riefenstahl like,” cautions Ram Emanuel.

Who? Asks the Hollywood executive. 

“Anyway I’ll just leave these with you for you to look over. Please call us if you have any ideas or any more of those pesky notes!” the executive perks as he slaps his knees in meeting-ending fashion”

‘Umm, I have a note now…’ asks the President. ‘…Can my lines be on a teleprompter, I mean on the set, or whatever, uh, can the lines be prompted?

“Well yes, sure, Mr. President, but usually you will have time to learn your lines before the cameras roll. We won’t be going live anywhere – like on television.”

“Hey, come on, I don’t have time to read my health-care bill, how am I gonna have time to read my script?”

With that the young producer bids his goodbyes and exits the White House. As he leaves the doors, he is immediately on his cell phone calling in to the studio.

“Nah, this thing isn’t gonna happen. We should have done it before the election. They’ve peaked. And I think he’s gonna be a problem… keeps saying Denzel. Sh*t-can all the scripts but don’t tell the writers, string them along with re-writes just in case. Take the White House’s calls too, but just stall them,… I don’t know, insult the Republicans, I guess. We better go with the crazy chef movie. Okay I’m wheels up in 20. Later.”

(Ringggggggggggggg.)

Todd, the assistant to the assistant of Ms. Clinton:

Mrs. Clinton? Mr. Clinton is on the phone for you.

Hillary:

That’s MS. Clinton. Give me that phone.

Hello…?

Bill: 

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA BWAAA HAHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHA! Ho ho ho HOOO HOOO BWAAAAAAAAH HAHA HA HA HA, uh Heee hee heeee………Ohhhhhh hey, Hun!

Hillary:

Helloooooooo?

Bill:

Bwaaaaaaa Heee hee hee heee… Ehh hmm.. Hey, Hillary, how’s it going?  See me on the TV?

Hillary: 

Yes saw you. How’s it going with me? Oh pretty well, Bill. Very busy over here in….. ah… this country he’s got me in.

Bill:  

Yeah, Barry sure has got you on the run, huh?

Hillary:

No Bill, I’ve got me on the run to important things. What is it you want, Bill?

Bill:

What is it I want?  BWAAAAAAAAAA HA AH AH AH AH AH HA HA HA HA HA HA. Just to let you know babe:… I’M BAAAAAAAAAACKKKKKK! The Slickster! The Reuniter! I’M BAAAAAAAAAACK! No more walking that rotten dog! No more boring lunches in Harlem! No more MISTER Hillary. BWAAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA AHAAA HAHA BWAAA Heee hee hee. Oh ho ho… sorry hun.

Hey all kiddin’ aside Honey, did you see Al with that green ‘welcome home’ banner? And that lil’ commercial for that radio station he’s hawkin’?

Hillary:

It’s a TV station, Bill.

Bill: 

Yeah, whatever… I mean is he a hoot or what? And what about Barack ‘Dr. Distraction’ Obama. This guys slick meter is on the uptick.

Hillary:

Quite a compliment coming from you. Bill, is there anything important you need to tell me? I mean I am very busy here.

Bill:

Oh sure you are, I know, honey. I just wanted to talk to you first… as soon as I got off the plane.

Hillary:

Oh, I planned on hearing from you, Bill.

Bill:

Okay babe, being I’m in L.A., I’m gonna go hit the strip tonight with Al and a few of his greenies. He’s got a super stretch that runs on mouse crap, or something. I’m just gonna go have a few laughs.

Hillary:  

Hopefully no more than you’re having on this conversation, Bill.

Bill:

Oh I am sorry, Hill, it’s just… it’s just… don’t you just find this ironic? I mean I call the Obama camp a fairytale, and he has me go out there and save the day.  Bet you wish it was you, huh Hillary?

(Click)

Bill: 

Awww… she hung up. Hey, H.W., you still on the line? 

President George Herbert Walker Bush:

Yeah, Bill, I’m here.. You still got it bro!

Bill:

Pretty good huh?

H.W.:

Oh man I am cryin’ here. I gotta call the boy and tell’m about this one. BWAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. See ya on the golf course, Billy!

Having been quite successful at my previous naming assignment for the Obama administration, I was encouraged to assist with another project for the folks at the White House. 

After being bored sitting on my rump for a few months collecting my government writer’s retainer, (GS 1700 making it 28K a week) I was delighted to get the call from the new POTUS Merchandising Czar.

The Czar was none other than “Fish”; the former spokesman from the ShamWow! commercials. I knew in advance this assignment was not as high profile or prestigious as renaming a former naughty prison camp, for it was just a simple product-naming gig. However, in my former life as an ad/jingle writer, I had named many products, from expensive toys to cheap boxes of wine and I kind of enjoyed it. Volume is the key. You have to kick out a lot of names, and sometimes those names will trigger others, spurring further avenues of creativity. Czar Fish called me at home from his boat in Florida to give me some welcomed creative direction.

Hello Mr. Czar, how are you? I asked.

Okay good. here’s the deal; Barack loves Hot Sauce, right? Puts it on his freakin’ cornflakes okay? Gives it to his cat, alright, ya with me? He replied quite nimbly.

Oh Yes Czar Fish, I am with you.

Okay. So we needs a name for this Hot Sauce for all the Barack-Shops® and Presi-Stands® around this country and Europe.  Got me?

Yes sir.

Okay, hot sauces can be wacky, ya know with hot names, like I seen one in L.A. called “Assplosion”.  Weird right?

Weird, but to the point, yes sir.

We can’t get that weird ya know, but we need to make fun of some stuff. No ‘my ass is on fire’ talk but try to have some fun with it? You followin’ me?

Yes Czar Fish.

Need it in a month. (Click)

When Czar Fish hung up the phone,  I was alone with my thoughts. That darn blank page was just staring back at me. What to do? I had been in a writers slump of late, and knew that what I needed was a fun trip to the local Hot Sauce shop, where I purchased (with my govt. expense credit card of course) seventy five different bottles of hot sauce. Some mild, and some of the lower anatomy burning variety.

I proceeded to cook up some wild rice and beans, and when done added several large shakes of some mild stuff. Pretty good and spicy, but what my muse really needed was a good hot kick in the pants, so I lathered on the super-burner stuff. After taking several spoonfuls of rice drowned in a rather potent Jamaican Sauce called: ‘Ganja-killya’, I must have lapsed into a Habanero writing stupor, for when I woke up; my ol’ Canon printer had a naming list dangling from its exit tray.

It Read: 

“Sweet ‘N Soros” Hot Sauce

“First Sauce I’m Proud Of” Hot Sauce

“Don’t unplug the TelePromp…” Hot Sauce

“Previous Administrations Bad Hot Sauce”

“Community Sauce-inizer”

“Barack’s EuroDiscoSocialsauce”

“The Dealership Closer” Hot Sauce

‘Comrades in Farms’ presents: ”Barack and Fidel’s: ‘I Havana Dream’ Cuban Style Hot Sauce”

“Hidin’ that Hillary” Hot Sauce

“I Hope The Lincoln Bedroom, Has a Lincoln Bathroom” Hot Sauce

“Barack’s Insano-Jalapeno” 

“Maybe This Will Shut Biden Up” Hot Sauce 

“Hey Bill; I got your Fairytale Right Here” Hot Sauce

Looking over the list I winced. Would the administration have this much of a sense of humor? I highly doubted it as I read it through. No way The B man was gonna be this self-deprecating. So striking down all of what I wrote, I decided to submit just one name, and this is the one they bought:

“Barack Obama’s Second Term Super Sensational Victory Sauce”

It was a smash hit. They ordered millions of bottles, and every Barack-Shop® across he globe was selling them fast, ….that was until of course, the great 2012 election scandal. (To be continued.)

–

However, my dear wittle wabbits; please to knock me over with a feather (imitation of course, not from a eagle or a dolphin).  The savior of my week was none other than the far-left lady from the great state of Bush-Bashachussetts: Ms. Helen Thomas.

She (for the time being) has undone my jaded eye-rolling hopelessness–she has (for at least this article) turned me into a reporter of sorts. Brava lady. Brava. Okay, it took the longest running member of the White House Press Corps to get any of the mainstream media to actually pay attention and not sweep it away with their “Right Wing Conspirator-Fox News” broom – but hey, whatever dudes! This week the news was the news.

Chip Reid, was questioning Press Secretary Gibbs about stacking the deck and the lack of openness at the Annandale healthcare ‘town hall’ meeting, when Helen ran to his aid. Here’s the transcript:

Gibbs: (Talking to Chip Reid)  “… But, again, let’s–How about we do this?  I promise we will interrupt the AP’s tradition of asking the first question.  I will let you (Reid) ask me a question tomorrow as to whether you thought the questions at the town hall meeting that the President conducted in Annandale…“

Chip Reid: “I’m perfectly happy to…”

Helen Thomas: “That’s not his point.  The point is the control…

Reid: “Exactly.“

Thomas: “We have never had that in the White House.  And we have had some, but not… This White House.”

Gibbs: “Yes, I was going to say, I’ll let you amend her question.”

Thomas: “I’m amazed.  I’m amazed at you people who call for openness and transparency and…”

Gibbs: “Helen, you haven’t even heard the questions.”

Reid: “It doesn’t matter.  It’s the process.”

Thomas: “You have left open…”

Reid: “Even if there’s a tough question, it’s a question coming from somebody who was invited or was screened, or the question was screened.”

Thomas: “It’s shocking.  It’s really shocking.”

Gibbs: “Chip, let’s have this discussion at the conclusion of the town hall meeting.  How about that?”

Reid: “Okay.”     

Gibbs: “I think…“

Thomas: “No, no, no, we’re having it now…”

Gibbs: “Well, I’d be happy to have it now.”

Thomas: “It’s a pattern.”

Gibbs: “Which question did you object to at the town hall meeting, Helen?”

Thomas: “It’s a pattern.  It isn’t the question…”

Gibbs: “What’s a pattern?”

Thomas: “It’s a pattern of controlling the press.”

Gibbs: “How so?  Is there any evidence currently going on that I’m controlling the press…poorly, I might add.”

Thomas: “Your formal engagements are pre-packaged.”

Gibbs: “How so?”

Reid: “Well, and controlling the public…”

Thomas: “How so?  By calling reporters the night before to tell them they’re going to be called on.  That is shocking.”

Gibbs: “We had this discussion ad-nauseam and…”

Thomas: “Of course you would, because you don’t have any answers.”

Gibbs: “Well, because I didn’t know you were going to ask a question, Helen.
Go ahead.”

Thomas: “Well, you should have.”

Reporter: Thank you for your support.

Gibbs: “That’s good.  Have you e-mailed your question today?”

Thomas: “I don’t have to e-mail it.  I can tell you right now what I want to ask.”

Gibbs: “I don’t doubt that at all, Helen.  I don’t doubt that at all.”

Well there’s my report.

Again, thanks Helen. You did good. I actually got excited and smiled at some real news coming out of that appalling room this week. To my regular readers, please stay tuned. I just know Washington will have me rolling my eyes and shaking my head once again real soon, running off to find a brand new Whoopee Cushion.

“You think maybe you would have edited that, David?” Mr. Carson asked, standing in the lavish bathroom.

“I mean your producer had the time. They could have cut it, right?”

Carson looked very young. Circa ‘66 young.

Letterman was incredulous.  “Johnny… what the heck are you doing here, how can this be possible?” the aging late night host queried.

“I am here to see you, Letterman,” Johnny said, flicking some lint off his attractive form-fitting suit. “You always made a big deal about honoring me, and uh, flattering me with your praise. I feel I owe it to you… in your time of trouble… to try to help you out.”

“Johnny, come on, you’re a class act, this ghost business is beneath you… and why haunt me, are you one of them now? Are you a conservative operative?”

“Class act?  What would you know about class these days, David? You’re an entertainer and you’re acting like a nut on a crusade to destroy the Republican Party.

This stuff ain’t funny, David, shame on you, not so much for the specific comments, but for abandoning your talent as a comedian and crossing over to become a wacky pundit like that Olbermann bozo.

And speaking of clowns, David, it’s always so sad when a clown gets old, but it’s pathetic when the clown gets old and mean.”

Letterman looked at Carson with anger now and Carson seemed to be bizarrely morphing between younger Johnny and the older retired-age Johnny. Letterman shook his head and chuckled, “Wow, the band must have slipped me some funny stuff…”

“Ah yes, the band/drug shtick,” Johnny smiled, “That stuff always worked.”

“David, you’re getting close to retirement. Your legacy should have been, ‘Funny man retires, wow what a great run,’ but now I fear soon it’s going to be, ‘Nasty late night host retires.’ The way you viciously attacked McCain, now Palin, what gives, man? It’s just plain mean. Why are you so angry?”

“Okay nobody talks to me like that, not even you, Johnny.  I’ll have to ask you to leave now,” Letterman said without looking Carson in the eye.

“I will, David, but just indulge me for another moment; I am here because of you, you called me. Maybe the younger you. You can chase me, but you might also be chasing the only one who can help you now; the comedian who knows when he’s made a mistake and can laugh at himself. If you forget to laugh at yourself, my friend, you will surely leave that job to others.

Using her daughters in that way is just wrong. It stinks, man. It’s just plain ugly… and mean.

David, I am going, but remember the younger man who used to be funny over at NBC called me. Search your soul, I think you’ll find him there, let him out, I think he may want to make a real apology.”

With that, the steam from the shower seemed to form a flowing curtain behind Carson. Johnny then started walking stage right, faked a trip, smiled, waved, and faded into the morning light.

Gourmet cheese… Adolpho the world’s most expensive hair stylist… Lake Como… Van Cleef & Arpels… Tiffany… 

WATER-BLAH BLAH BLAH…. 

Armani… Cole-Haan… Private Jets with mahogany paneling…

WATER-BOOP-BOOP-BOOP….

Little Doggie sweaters… delicious, though insanely-overpriced-for-being-grown-locally California fruit… Chanel… The Galapagos Islands… AL Gore; President of the Galapagos Islands… Al Gore in big Moo-Moo whilst President of the Galapagos Islands…

WATER-WEEEGEEE WAH WAH-

Wake up.

Open my eyes and realize I am THE MOST POWERFUL FREAKIN’ WOMAN IN THE WORLD. 

What I say; people believe. What I do: is very important. What I say and do, is MY BUSINESS.

I mean; did I really see and hear that briefing on that waterboa…..waterboar….wwwwww..  …that silly water thing?  

Noooooo, wasn’t possible! I am a liberal woman!  I am smarter than every single one of my fellow Americans! I am from the Bay area!

They’re all imaging this. In fact, this is all Bush’s fault. HE’s the one who instructed the CIA to lie to ME! Poppy Bush helped I’m sure. Wait, it’s bigger than that; it didn’t happen, and Bush forced the CIA to use that confusion serum they have on everyone at that briefing. That’s it!

I know they have that serum. That’s a briefing I do remember. They said it was used successfully at the ‘88 Democratic National Convention when Dukakis was nominated. Willy Horton my…

- Beep -

Yes Chad, what is it? … 

Gingrich sent a gift? Well, open it!

Come on, what the hell is it?

A TOASTER!? ….That S-O-B.

What? President on 2?.. Ugh, okay.

Hello….. Yes?  

Yes Barack, how are you honey? Come in to see you?, … I am sorry “B” I can’t help you this morning….  What’s that? Well, sweety, as you know I am extremely busy and it just so happens that some underprivileged children are……. What? You’d like me to come in and bring an attorney? (Click)..

Hello….? Hello?”

That did not just happen.