- Joined
- May 9, 2003
- Posts
- 4,705
After watching Mel Gibson literally get down on his knees and beg for an oscar today at "The Passion of the Christ," I suddenly felt renewed.
A tickling sensation ran up and down my spine, my waist grew from a standard 34 to a hearty 48 inches. My skin, already pale from my Andalusian genes, began emitting a strange scent...it...it was Drakkar cologne!
I stood up disheveled and disoriented. Brushing my hands over the stark gray lapels of the Ralph Lauren suit (made in the USA) that had suddenly materialized on my body, I straightened the American Flag pin on the lapel. I discovered it was not, in fact, on my lapel. No, it was fused to my chest. I walked into the restroom of the movie theatre and glanced briefly in the mirror, out of breath and for some reason hungry I saw multiple chins hanging from my once slim face, rippling and pulsating with every evil breath I drew. My hair, a combination of hair plugs and several pints of pomade was strewn about as well. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out an apparently "indestructible" hair comb (made in the USA) to straighten the rows of greasy, surgically inserted W.A.S.P strands sprouting out of my scalp. I suddenly realized what had happened, I HAD BECOME A CONSERVATIVE!!!
Suddenly, I heard footsteps.
I turned around and to my horror saw nothing less than a NEGRO walking straight at me. Panic ensued, I discreetly snatched my wallet from my coat pocket and stuffed it snuggly under my left breast, hoping the obviously disgruntled Nubian would not notice. "Excuse me," said the Negro, as he briskly walked past me to wash his hands. Amazing, I thought to myself, they've learned to use soap. As he left the restroom, my wheezing subdued, what had happened to me? What had I become?
I walked into the parking lot searching for my car. I had driven to the theatre in a modest 2000 Subaru Legacy, but in its place was not the fuel efficient all-wheel drive sedan I had once loved so dearly. No, in its place was the 2004 Cadillac Monstrosity, a 16 Cylinder, 3,054 bHp Sport Utility Vehicle (made in the USA) that ran on a combination of Petroleum, Coal, and Styrofoam. As I walked to my new behemoth of a car I saw a most disturbing sight indeed. Parked directly next to my new Caddy was a disgusting, anti-American 1989 Diesel Peugeot. Nausea overcame me as I lit the traitorous car on fire, who would do such a thing? Who would pollute the American highway with such gross disrespect as driving a FRENCH car. I jumped in my Monstrosity and left the burning ball of escargot for home.
When I arrived home and jumped onto the driveway of my Suburban Northern Virginia home, I noticed that one of my 8 children was snugly lodged under the front left tire of my car. I felt a sudden shiver of guilt swell up into my bulbous cheeks as I saw my child...um, Derek...no wait Donny...no, DANNY that’s it...drip down to the sidewalk. He knew the dangers of playing on his driveway during the War on Terror and should have known better, ignorance is no excuse...anyways it's time for dinner.
Sitting down at the dinner table was refreshing for me. Seeing my new family sit and silently stare at the table while I said grace captivated me. My wife sat silently staring at the pile of London Broil she had prepared for me and the kids. She had recently learned about and accused me of having a "mistress", which of course was absurd. The woman was an Iranian/North Korean informant who I discovered had been working in my office for some 7 years now. I slept with that woman for purposes of national security ONLY, and my wife obediently withstood the barrage of "Freedom Slaps" I gave her to remind her of how great our country was. "How was school today boys?" I asked as I inhaled brothy chunks of beef.
"Well, I saw an aye-rab today daddy, he was tryin to tell me that Jeezus was a profit fir him, too. I told him that Jeezus only profits us and I kicked his ass American Style, just like uncle George would." said 9 year old Eric Jr.
"Good son, did you tell him to go register at his local police station? We don't want the lil fucker to strap some fire crackers on and run his huffy (made in the USA) into the side of a post office now would we?" I replied.
The kids laughed, I laughed. It was good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is was a little story I wrote as a speech for my persuasive writing class. It's just a joke so I hope you guys take it with a grain of salt.
A tickling sensation ran up and down my spine, my waist grew from a standard 34 to a hearty 48 inches. My skin, already pale from my Andalusian genes, began emitting a strange scent...it...it was Drakkar cologne!
I stood up disheveled and disoriented. Brushing my hands over the stark gray lapels of the Ralph Lauren suit (made in the USA) that had suddenly materialized on my body, I straightened the American Flag pin on the lapel. I discovered it was not, in fact, on my lapel. No, it was fused to my chest. I walked into the restroom of the movie theatre and glanced briefly in the mirror, out of breath and for some reason hungry I saw multiple chins hanging from my once slim face, rippling and pulsating with every evil breath I drew. My hair, a combination of hair plugs and several pints of pomade was strewn about as well. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out an apparently "indestructible" hair comb (made in the USA) to straighten the rows of greasy, surgically inserted W.A.S.P strands sprouting out of my scalp. I suddenly realized what had happened, I HAD BECOME A CONSERVATIVE!!!
Suddenly, I heard footsteps.
I turned around and to my horror saw nothing less than a NEGRO walking straight at me. Panic ensued, I discreetly snatched my wallet from my coat pocket and stuffed it snuggly under my left breast, hoping the obviously disgruntled Nubian would not notice. "Excuse me," said the Negro, as he briskly walked past me to wash his hands. Amazing, I thought to myself, they've learned to use soap. As he left the restroom, my wheezing subdued, what had happened to me? What had I become?
I walked into the parking lot searching for my car. I had driven to the theatre in a modest 2000 Subaru Legacy, but in its place was not the fuel efficient all-wheel drive sedan I had once loved so dearly. No, in its place was the 2004 Cadillac Monstrosity, a 16 Cylinder, 3,054 bHp Sport Utility Vehicle (made in the USA) that ran on a combination of Petroleum, Coal, and Styrofoam. As I walked to my new behemoth of a car I saw a most disturbing sight indeed. Parked directly next to my new Caddy was a disgusting, anti-American 1989 Diesel Peugeot. Nausea overcame me as I lit the traitorous car on fire, who would do such a thing? Who would pollute the American highway with such gross disrespect as driving a FRENCH car. I jumped in my Monstrosity and left the burning ball of escargot for home.
When I arrived home and jumped onto the driveway of my Suburban Northern Virginia home, I noticed that one of my 8 children was snugly lodged under the front left tire of my car. I felt a sudden shiver of guilt swell up into my bulbous cheeks as I saw my child...um, Derek...no wait Donny...no, DANNY that’s it...drip down to the sidewalk. He knew the dangers of playing on his driveway during the War on Terror and should have known better, ignorance is no excuse...anyways it's time for dinner.
Sitting down at the dinner table was refreshing for me. Seeing my new family sit and silently stare at the table while I said grace captivated me. My wife sat silently staring at the pile of London Broil she had prepared for me and the kids. She had recently learned about and accused me of having a "mistress", which of course was absurd. The woman was an Iranian/North Korean informant who I discovered had been working in my office for some 7 years now. I slept with that woman for purposes of national security ONLY, and my wife obediently withstood the barrage of "Freedom Slaps" I gave her to remind her of how great our country was. "How was school today boys?" I asked as I inhaled brothy chunks of beef.
"Well, I saw an aye-rab today daddy, he was tryin to tell me that Jeezus was a profit fir him, too. I told him that Jeezus only profits us and I kicked his ass American Style, just like uncle George would." said 9 year old Eric Jr.
"Good son, did you tell him to go register at his local police station? We don't want the lil fucker to strap some fire crackers on and run his huffy (made in the USA) into the side of a post office now would we?" I replied.
The kids laughed, I laughed. It was good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is was a little story I wrote as a speech for my persuasive writing class. It's just a joke so I hope you guys take it with a grain of salt.
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