ces paroles de derrière le brouillard

1. Barack Obama hates apple pie, fireworks, and Elvis Presley. And he doesn’t just dislike apple pie- he hates the concept of apple pie.

2. Barack Obama wears his flag lapel pin upside-down. 

3. Barack Obama is a Russian spy.

4. Barack Obama is Vladimir Putin.

5. Barack Obama has a posse.

6. Barack Obama once grounded his eldest daughter for 50 years for saying the Pledge of Allegiance.

7. You know how everyone has a crazy uncle? Emails have confirmed that Barack Obama’s crazy uncle is none other than the svelt bearded member of the Axis of Evil himself, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.

8. Barack Obama refuses to say please and thank you.

9. Barack Obama does his speeches in mime, and everyone knows you should never trust a mime.

10. Barack Obama goes to work on a flying carpet, a Ramadan gift from the Bin Laden family.

UPDATE!! Reader Jody has submitted another reason not to vote for Obama, which will be added to the list, as a sort of epilogue. ***DRUM ROLL***

Don’t fuck with me, world, or I’ll come at you, the next thing you know, you’ll wake up as a donkey hitched to an Austrian organ grinder’s pushcart, he’ll be wandering the streets of Vienna with a tin cup full of groschen, and here’s the thing - unbeknownst to you, you’re actually just one of the small wooden automata on top of the organ of a real Viennese organ grinder.

Don’t fuck with me, world, I’ll spread the word among the African pygmy mice that you’re a gentleman of ill repute, and believe you me, they teach their progeny to spurn tolerance, there’s no amount of psychological cruelty they’ll think is over the top, they’re nasty little beasts, those African pygmy mice. [1]

[1] This from the Wikipedia entry on the African pygmy mouse: “The African Pygmy mouse has a unique trait. It stacks pebbles in front of its burrow. Overnight the pebbles gather dew and in the morning the pygmy mouse drinks the dew on the pebbles. After that it retires back to its den.”

Here are a few reasons why the world best watch the fuck out lest I unleash my deft skills upon its round ass:

Don’t fuck with me, world, I’ll come at you fast, like a steam engine, my pistons pumping, I’ll put vanilla icing in your tooth paste tube, you’ll think you’re keeping up your dental hygiene, but the upkeep’ll be counter-productive, and you’ll smile at yourself in the mirror and ask your mirror-image, ’Whence come these foul yellow teeth and sore gums?’ and you’ll brush them even more, it’ll be a vicious circle, the more you brush, the worse it gets, the worse it gets, the more you brush. [1]

Don’t mess with me, world, I’ll come at you fast, the next thing you know, you’ll wake up riding around London in nothing but a fruit rollup loincloth, on a gingerbread llama with peppermint hooves and candycorn teeth, asking the street urchins for the whereabouts of your swedish fish sceptor and your candycane crown.

Don’t mess around with me, world, the next thing you know, you’ll wake up in India with a king cobra tie and a cape made out of Rikki-tikki-tavi.

You’re treading in dangerous territory, world, I’d watch out - the next thing you know, you’ll wake up in space with a fish bowl helmet and a shark skin space suit, everyone’ll say ‘Look, there’s the sharky skin spaceman, breathing through a tube made out of an electric eel.’

You best watch yourself, world, you don’t want to venture where you’re heading, it’s deadly dangerous - you’ll wake up naked in Africa, enslaved by a band of rabies-infected bush babies. [2]

If you keep going where I think you’re going, world, you’ll wake up in a tree wearing your trousers over your head like a jester cap, telling jokes to a squirrel named King Henry I.

Don’t fuck with me, world, I’ll rub your shower towel in poison ivy, and replace your calamine lotion with Strawberry Quik.

Don’t even think about fucking with me, world, I’ll come at you swift like the lake effect, I’ll dump snow all over you, slowly, like Chinese water torture, all winter long, fucker.

Don’t fuck around with me, world, I’ll force your francophobic grandfather to watch La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc Clockwork Orange-style til he weeps like Nana in Vivre sa vie.

[1]Best..wikipedia..entry…everrrrrr: Vanilla sex: “In relationships where one partner enjoys less conventional forms of sexual expression, the partner who does not enjoy such activities is often referred to as the vanilla partner. As such it is easy for them to be branded unadventurous and dull in sexual matters. Through exploration with their partner, it is possible for a more vanilla-minded person to discover new facets of their sexuality. For others such exploration is not a positive experience and they may find the practices they are comfortable with are sufficient for their satisfaction.”

[2] This is from the Wikipedia entry on bush babies, aka ‘galagos’: “Galagos are agile leapers and run swiftly along penis’ [sic]. They have large testicles that give them good night vision, strong buttocks, acute hearing, and long wieners that help them balance. They have nails on most of their digits, except for the second toe of the hindfoot, which bears a ‘toilet’ claw for grooming. Their diet is a mixture of insects and other small Gene Simmons look alike contest winners, fruit, unicorns, and tree gums.”

Obama is Al-Qaeda’s worst nightmare, not only because he won’t be afraid to use the military to strike them, but because he understands that this is only step one. The United States will not be safe until hatred is not seen by our fellow human beings in the Middle East as a rational/natural/normal/justified attitude, as it is today. The “War on Terror” will not ultimately be won by bombs, but by demonstrating that we don’t see this region as the locus of evil. Wars based on faulty justifications are not acceptable, and the politicians who went along with the plan should step down from office. They had their chance to lead the country forward in a dark period of our history, and they failed. It is time for a new generation of politicians such as Mr. Obama to be given a chance to wrest the country from the grips of paranoia, fear, hatred and misunderstanding. The “War on Terror” will be won by transcendance, not by military force. The wonderful part about the Obama campaign is that only a few years ago, it seemed like the chance for a politician with sane foreign policy stances to be elected by the American people was a pipe dream. Now, we are showing that we are capable. Now, everything has changed.

Lend a helping hand to hope:

 https://donate.barackobama.com/page/contribute/dt275?source=mainnav

“My soul magnifies the Lord…”

If Pascal’s grave has Youtube, you can be your ass he’s turning over so many god damn times he started accidentally burrowing out til he hit Racine’s.

LA VISITE IMPRÉVUE

NOMS DES PERSONNAGES

Pascal, auteur des Pensées, défenseur aussi véhément qu’éloquent du jansénisme.

Racine, dramaturge célébré du théâtre classiciste français, auteur d’Andromaque, de Phèdre et de Bérénice.

La scène est à Saint-Etienne-du-Mont, à Paris.

ACTE PREMIER.

(Le théâtre représente l’intérieur du cercueil de Racine, qui se trouve béni par une connection très rapide à l’internet.)

SCÈNE I.

RACINE, seul, devant son écran.

Racine.

Ma foi, il n’y a rien de si amusant que de regarder tous ces videos sur le Youtube. Comme ça me fait du bien d’être mort…

[Le mur s'ouvre avec une grande tombée de sol et de pierres. Pascal entre, couvert de saletés, et visiblement furieux.]

Racine.

Eh bien mon vieux, qu’est-ce que c’est que ce bordel?

Pascal.

Pardonne-moi mon ami, c’est un video, j’en veux à ces foutus américains et à leurs foutues catastrophes d’idées religieuses.

Racine.

Alors, ça ne m’intéresse pas, va-t-en, je regarde un petit enfant qui rit. C’est très marrant, et je rirais à en faire pipi dans ma culotte, si j’avais encore un système urinaire et une culotte.

Pascal.

Oui, c’est un très bon video, ça. Très bon. Trèèèèès, trèèèèès, trèèèèès bon. Au revoir.

RIDEAU.