In a press conference, President Obama announced Professor Henry Louis Gates and Police Sgt. James Crowley would both be coming to the White House to “have a beer.” The following day, the White House is now in ruins, and all three men have been charged with disorderly conduct, public intoxication, and exposure.

“I sincerely apologize for my actions last night. They could have been recalibrated,” Obama said in a press conference earlier today. “Excuse me, I’m a little hungover.” The President then vomited over the front row of the press core.

Obama recently made comments against Police Officer Crowley, claiming in the arrest of Professor Gates he “acted stupidly” and was racial profiling. By inviting both men to the White House, Obama planned the event as a peace offering. However, the three men could not hold their drink, and the night quickly turned wild.

Four separate noise complaints were filed, and when officers arrived at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, they found the Obama administration had already begun the party. Local college students arrived, bringing kegs and starting games of beer pong in the Oval Office. One young person defecated in the Lincoln bedroom.

Obama, Gates, and Crowley claim to have begun the evening with a casual beer. But soon the shots of Jägermeister came out. After that, Obama claims he has “no recollection” of what transpired next. Apparently, the three men lost Attorney General Eric H. Holder Jr. and are currently retracing their steps to find him.

During the party, Joe Biden was said to have called several ex-girlfriends. A source close to the Obama administration has been quoted as saying, “if you think he says dumb things when he’s sober…” In addition, Department of Agriculture Secretary Thomas J. Vilsack drew penises on United States Trade Representative Ambassador Ronald Kirk’s passed out face. Michelle Obama was seen making out with Hilary Clinton and flashing her titties to the cameras.

Upon leaving the White House, Obama, Gates, and Crowley drunkenly walked the streets of Washington D.C. Professor Gates stopped to urinate in the Washington Reflecting Pool. Obama was overhead yelling to Crowley, “you act stupidly, and I’ll just get stupid!” Obama claimed he hadn’t been this “fucked up since … [a] high school coke binge.”

The White House has been left with thousands of dollars in damage and a horse has eaten the Rose Garden. It is the most damage done to the White House since Andrew Jackson’s inauguration party. Although some claim George W. Bush’s “Mission Accomplished” weekend bender came close, with Dick Cheney, plastered on Greygoose, shooting a shotgun at the presidential portrait of Jimmy Carter.

In the aftermath, some political analysts believe Obama’s plan worked all along. An onlooker overheard Gates, while smashing bottles against a car, telling Crowley, “I love you. I do, man. You’re great, man. We’re cool right? Right, man? I love you.”

August 2008

Oh man, guess what? That chick I been nailin who’s mom’s the Governer. Man she just got nominated for Vice President. She’s gonna sit right in the White House with John McCain. And then, after he’s been president or dies or something, she becomes the president. That means I’ll be nailin the president’s daughter! Hell man they’ll probably let me use Presidential Condoms with the seal on ‘em an everything.  Not that I use ‘em. Condoms are for liberal wusses who got no control. I got  a tried and true method, and I ain’t never slipped one past the goalie.

September 2008

Oh, man damn Bristol just got pregnant. Man I can’t believe this happened. Oh, well I’m sure this will want to be kept quiet by the Governor. We’ll probably get on a chopper and fly overnight to some California abortion clinic. I’m sure they don’t want this to leak out. What? Shoot man I’m already on the cover of the Inquirer. Damn those paparazzi. I knew they were hanging around that Anchorage Planned Parenthood for a reason. Uh-oh Levi. You might have gotten yourself into a sticky one here. He he, no pun intended.

October 2008

Can’t believe I’m gonna be a dad. Well at least I’m kind of a celebrity now. I got more myspace hits than anybody in my town. Plus I’m still bangin the governor’s and soon to be president’s daughter and this means we’ll have to get married so I’m in that family for life man. I’ll be like prince Albert over there in England. Except I won’t go to war, I’ll work on an oil rig just like my daddy before me. Yep. Doin God’s work here. Extracting the most useful never-ending natural resource ever seen. We aint never runnin out of this stuff.

November 2008

Damn, I aint getting no lovin at home. Man, her mom won’t get off my case about getting my GED. I ain’t no scholar I keep telling her. I call her “the beast” behind her back, but she doesn’t know. She just keeps collecting Prada.  Don’t matter now, we lost, man we lost huge. Probably was all the Liberal bias in the media. At least we got to stay in the Plaza for free when we went to that demon hell-hole New York City. I never seen so many Jews and homosexuals together in my whole life.  Bristol called it “Jew York City” I’m still laughin about that one.

December 2008

Ain’t this baby ever gonna come? I been playin the skin flute and dressin up in collared shirts for three months now. I thought it would all pay off when I was sittin pretty on the White House back porch shootin clay pigeons and tearin my four-wheeler around Camp David. The beast better get off my case now about helping with the baby when it comes. This aint fun anymore. Bristol is bigger than a Kardashian now!

January 2009

Aw, man That should be me up there on the Lincoln Memorial. The damn black guy got all the votes. Stupid electoral process ruins everything. Why can’t just the real Americans get to vote? Man, we gotta find a way to be president. I can’t deal with this baby in Alaska. I’m gonna need some government assistance with this one. Hey, I guess it doesn’t matter whether we get to be the first family or now. Either way, the government  is takin care of this baby. It’s either White House baby food or runnin up the expense account at the Governors Beast’s office. Either way, I win baby!

February 2009

Bristol better get that baby away from me before I punt it out the back door. I am so sick of her and  “The Beast” yellin at me about tracking oil in from the oil rig. I work on an oil rig ladies. Do you know what that means? I get oil all over myself every day and sometimes it gets on my shoes and gets tracked into the house. I thought we bought stain-master carpet for just such a reason. God, I hate you both.

March 2009

Bristol and me split up for good. I still gotta pay for that baby, but at least I’m free from “The Beast”  Now who wants to date the former Mr. Bristol Palin. Check out my resume I was a near miss for first family. I’m free and available ladies. Who wants to date? I’m movin to Florida. Can’t wait to see the book I write.  

That was a quote by the most famous, alluringly radiant and pulchritudinous scientist I know - Emmett ‘Doc’ Brown, who by the way – invented the TIME MACHINE!  But in actuality, where my friends (Iceman, Nitro and Bob) and I did go – we surely did need roads. You may wonder what in the name of the mythological Minotaur am I talking about?

And no – I’m not talking about how I once traveled from Manhattan to Brooklyn to witness a friend actually knock out Mike Tyson – first round, UPPER CUT, JAB, UPPER CUT, in Tyson’s Punch Out (greatest game ever!) Or beat Contra without using the cheating code. Contra’s a war zone, friends.

But I digress.

I’m only talking about the most exciting road trip (courtesy of Greyhound) in the history of historical histories. 

I’m talking about a road trip to the STATE OF THE UNION. Curtail the excitement please. My fingers are shaking as I type this…

Suddenly, I’m hyperventilating in a brown paper bag.

First – before entering the bus – we had to go through our checklist for this trip.

1.)    Condoms – CHECK

2.)    Alcohol – CHECK

3.)    SHROOMS – DOUBLE CHECK

4.)    Head Shot of Nancy Pelosi - CHECKMATE

These are necessities for a State of the Union – for tailgating, of course.

Secondly, we had to get our posters ready for some celebrity signatures. Forget Tom Cruise, Zac Efron, Brad Pitt, the dude from Slumdog Millionaire or any ‘Hollywood’ folk. I’m talking about getting me some Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, House Majority Leader Steny H. Hoyer and if we’re lucky – I mean LOTTO lucky – getting Freshman Rep. Jared Polis – a new hottie Democrat from Colorado.

Most of you would question – why not get Obama’s autograph? And I’ll answer – he’s old news now. FIVE WEEKS – PUH-LEASE. Give me a little Rep. Earl Blumenauer from Oregon and that’ll be the cherry on top of my State of the Union Sundae.

By the time we arrived at our destination, the shrooms were kicking in, hallucinations of Nancy Pelosi speaking to me in Yiddish were apparent and the alcohol had reached the point of poisoning. We stepped off the bus, condom wrappers open and placed on point (just in case opportunity presented itself) and the party was just about to begin.

We put our lawn chairs down, cracked open a cold beer and waited for the hoards of people to start arriving.

After fifteen minutes, and a tumbleweed blowing through the dirt field, we started freaking out – like ‘Requiem for a Dream’ freaking out. We asked a local man when the tailgating would start for the State of the Union.

He didn’t know what were we talking about. So, I grabbed his stained collar, kicked him in the pelvis, got up in his face and spit out words of disgust.

And then a voice, maybe God, maybe the narrator from ‘Field of Dreams’ or possibly James Earl Jones, came from above and told us something interesting.

“You are in Centralia, Pennsylvania.”

Confused, we didn’t know what to do. Stuck, lost and scared – we did the only thing three dudes on shrooms, with condoms on and alcohol poisoning would do…

We hopped on the saddle of a Minotaur and rode back into the sunset - bound for Manhattan.

*This was for entertainment purposes only. A Minotaur does not really exist. Drugs are illegal and wrong. And, although a possibility, I do not think anyone would tailgate for the State of the Union.

So you’re president now huh? You think that makes you exempt from getting your ankles broken on a killer crossover by me? Well then you ain’t been in Slick C’s world for long. Because if you had, you’d see that ankle breakings are a regular occurrence every day on the court for my opponents.

The only thing that might save you from me breaking your ankles might be the fact that you and your secret service goons won’t stoop so low as to play me. I know you been ducking me. I tried to get in that game on election day, but you had me arrested. I voted for you man. And now you won’t even let me get in the game?

I see you hiding behind your press secretary and that excuse that the White House doesn’t have a court yet and that you’re building one soon. I don’t need no fancy court come on down to Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn and step your slow tired butt onto the black top and come get some of this. I seen you playing in your ratty t-shirt and long jogging pants. You look like a chump to Slick C. And if it looks like a chump to Slick C, well then, it must be a chump.

Normally, I don’t have time to school chumps like you, but since you’re the President now I guess I gotta bring you down a few pegs. I know it’s negative fifteen outside and the wind is blowing off the bay, but I’m right here dude. Just give me a shout on the cell and make sure to bring the poet laureate so she can wax poetic while I wax your skinny butt all over the court and render your lower extremities useless. After the tendons endure severe strain from trying to keep up with my super speed crossover they will surely snap and fray from the bone when I pull up short and drop a J in your mug.

Don’t worry, there’s a hospital right nearby and they are very practiced in repairing the broken ankles of other middle aged Harvard Law grads that Slick C routinely abuses round these parts. The gauntlet has been laid Barry. Are you man enough to meet the challenge. I’ll wait by my phone ready to be the first hustler to abuse a sitting president.

Lance Armstrong is Optimistic About Obama’s Presidency

I found this story via the Associated Press. And what a story it is.

Lance Armstrong, a guy who rides a bicycle for a living, is optimistic about Barack Obama’s rise to power.  Luckily, the press told us how Armstrong feels about the president. I wasn’t sure how to feel until I knew that President Obama had a man who rides a bike for a living in his corner. Thanks, the press, for getting this worldshaking story out.

A BRIEF ASIDE TO THOSE PRESS

What about that bail-out money? Find out what happened to that yet, the press? I bet it has something to do with the fact that oil is traded in US dollars and that the United States, on the brink of financial collapse, had to pay out some big money to keep it that way. I’ve got nothing to back that up, but maybe a real reporter with a journalism degree and some political contacts could investigate that for me, instead of writing stories about a fucking cyclist’s feelings on the president.

Back to Lance Armstrong’s Optimistic Views

Lance Armstrong, a guy who has a hobby for a job, is sure happy that Obama is president. Reports also state that Mr. Armstrong is also happy that he rides a bike for money, has sex with a beautiful woman, is the best in the world at a sport and survives cancer all the time.

Lance Armstrong’s Views on Obama

“I can tell you that in my three or four encounters with him, meeting with him, he’s been delightful, he’s been smart, he’s been present and he’s been committed,” Armstrong said.

and

“You can always tell when someone cares about something that you’re talking about,” he [ARMSTRONG} said.

YOU ARE WRONG! I LOVE LANCE ARMSTRONG

If I had to form some sort of intergalatic superhero team, I would put Lance on it. He’d be my right-hand man, my confidant. We’d drink sherry together while laser-blasting aliens into a fine, white dust.  We’d have the kind of love that only a man can have for another man in battle.

The Icing on the Cake

Armstrong, a testicular cancer survivor, felt Obama identified with his campaign to raise awareness of the disease.

Unconfirmed sources have reported that Obama and every man on the planet have said, at least once, ” I sure hope I don’t get cancer in my balls. That would suck. I might have to kill myself.”

This is probably what Armstrong was referring to.

Mike Huckabee’s former presidential campaign manager Chip Saltsman sent members of the Republican National Committee for Christmas the comedy album “We Hate The USA.” The album was in stock at Amazon and shipped in time for the holiday but according to those who received it, the comedy portion is apparently on back order.

Recorded by conservative humorist [sic] Paul Shanklin, the album is said to be a satirical spoof on The New York Times and includes the controversial song “Barack the Magic Negro.” Many have been outraged by the song but none more than Walter King of Oak Park, Illinois, the only living African-American magician in the U.S.

Sung to the tune of Peter, Paul and Mary’s “Puff the Magic Dragon,” “Barack the Magic Negro” is wildly popular on The Rush Limbaugh Show as well as at Klu Klux Klan day care centers.

Saltsman’s Chirstmas gift has been condemned by current RNC chairman Mike Duncan, who said he is “shocked and appalled” by the CD but went on to admit that at the very least, all 158 committee members now have something to regift next year.

Saltsman, who is in the running to become the next head of the RNC, told CNN in an interview Friday “I think most people recognize political satire when they see it.” According to a recent Lampoon/Zaz Report Poll, 67% of most people can recognize a passive-aggressive racist while only 33% are able to detect subtly nuanced political observation.

Among Amazon’s 2,143,399 album titles, “We Hate The USA” is ranked #146 while the site’s #1 comedy album, George Carlin’s “You Are All Diseased,” is ranked #37,937.