Barack Obama and His Cabinet of Doom!: Behind the Chain-Link Fence

March 14, 2009

When we last left the Red Mobster, he had flying ears of explosive corn heading his way, courtesy of Rep. Steven King.

Good thing our vermillion vandal of the American economy started to dodge while the good Congressman told him he was under arrest, or the Mobster’s dedication to all things inefficient would have resulted in a hole being blown in his face instead of in the walls behind him. The few Democrats who did not pass out already crept out the committee room as the Republicans, many weapons a-blazing, try to down the scarlet terrorist.

‘Meh, see. I’m toast if I do not come up with a plan, see.’ Congressman King finished reloading his corn bazooka. He aimed at the Mobster.

“Wait, see. Do you coppers want to hear of my nefarious plan, meh?”

“No. You’re a terrorist resisting arrest. We shoot first and ask questions to whatever is left of you.”

“That’s not how it is done, see. I’m supposed to braggingly give away pertinent information, see, which you will then use to foil my plans, see, after you escape my death trap, see. That’s how this whole hero-villain relationship is supposed to work, see.”

“I’m not in a death trap, you moron.”

“Meh, Force Works would listen to me gloat.”

The invocation of Force Works brought a tear to Rep. King’s eyes. Nobody in the comics universe ever cared about his home state of Iowa before. And not every state got an official team name. Nebraska might be all snooty about their unicameral legislature, but Iowa has a team of superheros.

“All right, scum. Tell us the foul deeds you are planning. Then, I’ll use that information to foil those plans by blowing a gigantic hole in your chest.”

“Meh, well then, see…”

Hours passed. Never one to do anything efficiently, the Red Mobster droned on and on with his convoluted explanation of the Secret Cabinet’s lobbying scheme to ensure that Obama will be able to sign H.R. 45. Even when the plan was straight-forward, he added the wrinkles and contingencies he came up with (sometimes on the spot) to ensure an eventual, though unnecessarily complicated, federal gun registration law. The explanation was so boring and frustratingly confusing that the Congressmen started to walk out or fall asleep with stopped ears to escape the incessant, monotone ramblings of our crimson madman. Even Rep. King eventually nodded off, having already taken 47 pages of notes; he just could not stay awake for one more explained step.

“Meh, I knew that will work.”

The Red Mobster took Rep. King’s notes and individually shredded each one into exactly 582 equal sized pieces. Then he walked out the door.


“What exactly are we doing here in this phallic testosteronedome without a massive amount of explosives?” Femi-Nazi questioned, for the 251st time.

“The NRA is going to be the main money and manpower behind our H.R. 45. We must hamper their organization enough that they will not have the ability to do so.”

“And blowing up their headquarters for Womankind would not do it?”

“You utterly destroy them, someone else will take their place. And then we cannot stop them from opposing our bill.”

Yew Man finished cutting though the barbed wire fence surrounding the NRA Motor Pool using his blood-and-sap powered armor. The Secret Cabinet crawl though the hole and suddenly alarms start blazing.


“Alright, who did not bring a gun?” said Yew Man, thinking if he killed the unarmed compatriot, the alarms would stop. The fact that there would be one less Gaia destroying polluter on the planet would be a nice side benefit.

“Don’t look at me,” exclaimed Femi-Nazi, pulling out a WWII era Luger.

“I have a laser pointer. Does that count as a weapon? I mean, it says you can damage someone’s eyes if you point it in them.”

“Well, obviously my suit has the highest tech weapons ever made by grafting wood to human flesh.”

They all start to stare at the Hollywood Shambler when the garage door to the Motor Pool opened. An android with a familiar face strolls though the opened garage, carrying a massive arsenal.

Tell me something, would you? Are you fellas really with the Internal Revenue Service?


The Red Mobster escaped with his life, his mission a failure. Will the rest of the Secret Cabinet have that level of success? Or will they end up in the dumpster behind NRA Headquarters? Tune in next time to find out!


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