My fellow citizens, you probably can’t read this because you are in the dark of your Brooklyn boudoir, scraping the scum of the Gowanus Canal from your floor with a toy shovel that blew in from Rockaway. Fear not, for it will likely freeze soon!
We managed to stop those scrawny Eritreans from running through the ravaged city so our police can concentrate on things that really matter, stopping apoplectic jagoffs from throttling each other at the Sunoco. But it looks like we won’t stop the election. After all, this isn’t Ohio!
I am sure you will all agree that Everything Sucks. Even if you are not trapped under a fallen tree, you probably don’t have a job. And if you do have a job, you probably spend your days wishing a tree would fall on you. Well, Mitt Romney has your solution. You have been so short sighted- Life could be a whole lot worse! Once Mitt is in charge there will be rapery all around, and no more of your fun time, lazy Sunday abortions. Health insurance and retirement benefits will only be available via the dice table at Monte Carlo. But don’t worry, you will still get a tax break for being beautiful. Me, I will be disappointed if I am not personally raped by Mitt Romney himself. But those are the kind of high expectations that have been mostly dashed in this hopeless economy.
In sum, please take your heads out of the ovens and vote for Brock Omama. You probably don’t have gas, anyway.
Natural disasters have been blighting the world for eons, but like wearing babies in slings and mustache grooming, this means nothing until white people in Brooklyn happen to experience these things. It is surprising that the hurricane did not exclusively target Williamsburg. Why inconvenience the reasonable and wealthy folk of Manhattan? But these things are not for us to know. Suffering is no joke, which is unfortunate since there is so much to go around. Funny suffering would really lighten things up.
Just as nature is always sneakily waiting to beleaguer us, this great nation insists on rolling out a national election every so often. Lambchop and I very recently realized that the time is once again nigh. Perhaps it was the roiling seas and blackened skies that alerted us.
Actually, it was Morrissey, who informed us that he does not care one whit about our election. We took him at his word after he turned his back on us and threw himself down the stage. We were sure he really, really meant it after he showed us ten minutes of de-beaking videos.
So we retreated to our prayer grotto (the hotel where Morrissey was staying) and took quick inventory of our views. Turns out we are predominantly bored. Huh. Would Romney be more favorable to Attractive-Americans? That could be a thing, as we are endlessly persecuted. But Obama is in favor of gay marriage, and there is nothing we love more than a wedding! Ugh. What to do?
We were despondent until we got a call from Romney headquarters. It seems Mitt took notice of our normal deft handling of the man on the street (stepping over him!), and he thought we might be the ones to put the ol’ Zazz in the P.
We decided on an 11th hour pivot. Mitt needs to pretend to be a real human who knows how much things cost at a dollar store. He needs to get in touch with America’s farmers and the other darlings of the Republican party, America’s hard-working legitimate rapists. Thus we suggested a new campaign anthem. Please enjoy “Fields of Rape!”