Barack Obama and His Cabinet of Doom: The Man, The Teleprompter, The Gaffe-Machine

March 24, 2009

“My next guest needs no introduction. He is our President, who is leading us into a new golden age. Here’s Barack Obama!”

[Thunderous Applause]

“Greetings, mortals! I am your President! Swear fealty to me or I will crush you underneath my iron-clad fist!”

[More thunderous applause.]

“I’d like to thank Barack Obama for taking the time out of his busy schedule of supplying our every need to appear on my show!”

Mr. President, that is my teleprompter. Yours is over there.”

The worthless television personality points to his teleprompter, which is beside his close-up camera.

“Fools! I will destroy whoever did not know I like my teleprompter to my side and not blocking my audience’s lemming-like gaze on my manly visage!”

The cue-card guy tries to move the teleprompter to where Obama indicated. But it was too late for him. The hoard of hippies Obama has following him pummeled the low level backstage guy to death.

The worthless television personality tries his best not to react and starts asking the questions Obama gave him to ask. All fluff questions designed to get the weak-minded masses to love him even more. Obama reads the pre-written responses. He was barely paying attention when the personality asked a non-approved question.

“Speaking of your NCAA basketball bracket, do you have much time to play sports when you are not lavishing us with your grace and poise?”

Reacting quickly, Obama begins to try and fashion a response while planning to end this man’s career for going off topic, “I have been learning your human game, ‘Bowling’. It is rather difficult, since I have yet to fully adjust to your gravitational field. I practice at night over at the White House Bowling Alley. Last night, I bowled a 129!”

“That’s very good, Mr. President.”

It’s like your human Special Olympics or something.”

One would think a hush would have fell on the audience like a large sack of bowling balls. One would be wrong. They were used to Obama saying things that only the blatantly arrogant would aver. But something so insulting to an important Democratic voting bloc? And something so depreciating? How else was the audience to take it other than a joke; a joke they must respond with rip-roaring laughter if they expect to survive the rest of the night.

“That was hilarious, Mr. President.”

“Of course it was, pitiful speck of a man,” Obama continued, “On my planet, we have Special Olympics too. It is a little different, though.”

Obama then began a 20 minute explanation of his planet’s Special Olympics and it’s eugenic function. How participants are forcibly taken in the middle of the night from the small populations of political dissidents, slave species, and other genetic inferiors. How each of the events are designed to brutally slay the participants and only the winner is allowed to win. How the losers are ground into sausage-like meat substances to serve as a protein supplement for slaves.

Now the audience is horrified.

Obama walks up to the head producer. “Have you put in the hour delay that I have requested?”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“Good, be sure to edit that line of questioning out. And be sure to let me watch it before you release it to the world for my final approval.”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“Now, let us finish this interview. I tire of these questions.”

They say their final bits as per the plan, with Obama never acknowledging the presence of the personality. Once the cameras stop rolling, Obama says the words that no one in the mainstream media wishes to hear to the worthless television personality, cowing in awe, “You disappoint me, worm. I will never appear on your show again.”



“In entertainment news tonight, Obama had a spectacular appearance on late night television last night, causing a 50 quadrillion percent increase in ratings. The host, realizing that n0thing could possibly compare to the esctascy of interviewing the president, strangled himself in his dressing room after the show.”


That fire put out, Obama turns back to the shamed Secret Cabinet.

“Apparently, ensuring the passage of a bill is too difficult a task for you nitwits. I will find something else for you to do soon enough.”


Something else? What will it be? Find out next week! Hopefully I know what it is going to be before I start typing, but, if not, we’ll find out together (more or less).


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