Barack Obama and His Cabinet of Doom!: Cumin Fiend

April 2, 2009

Obama’s men are briefing Queen Elizabeth. Obama cannot be bothered by such matters; he has to come up with a new nefarious plan since his Secret Cabinet failed him so miserably on the last one.

“And remember, no malt vinegar!” one of his minions yelled while Obama strolls into the throne room. ‘Good,’ he thought, ‘they remembered my issue with that dreadful British concoction. The beatings are starting to pay off.’

“Good morning, Elizabeth.”

“I have never been so mistreated in all of my days, you dirty Yank-scum!” Queen Elizabeth bellowed, visibly irate, “How dare you send armed men to fondle my purse, for vinegar of all things, in my own home! Even the Nazis showed my family more honor than you, and they were trying to kill us!”

“You people are all alike,” Obama blandly responded

“And could you please move your gaudy car? My family wants to see you, too. Though I cannot see why. It’s also blocking the view of the garden.”

“If you are going to be rude, I’m not going to grace you with my presence anymore. Here.”

Obama tosses a box wrapped in New York Times into the queen’s lap. She daintily opens it and exclaims, rather sarcastically, “Brilliant, another iPod.”

“It’s got a condensed version of my 25 DVD set ‘How to Worship Your New Lord and Master: Barack Obama.’ Your lackey, Mr. Brown, should have given you the essentials,but I figured you Brits might need the convenient reminder handy while I still tolerate my presence in your malt-stinking cesspool of a country.”

“Why I never. Guards, remove this miscreant out of my sight.”

The guards move forward as to comply. An intoxicating odor wafts from them as they moved. An odor, not doubt, nobody other than Obama could smell. He pulls out a gun.

“What did you have for lunch, Lobsterback?”

“A curry, gov’na’. Now, pull ‘own the gun an’ le’s go out back an’ smoke ourselves a fag or two.”

Obama rushes at the guard. He sticks on of the guard’s hands in his mouth, sucking on his fingers, while trying to stick the other hand up his nose. The Secret Servicemen eventually pull Obama out of the room, dragging along the guard as they went.


Once they are out of the queen’s presence, the Secret Servicemen put Obama into a straight jacket while trying to free the guard. Obama spouts off while still sucking on the guard’s hand:

“You will pay for forgetting about the cumin powder, fools! Now, go get me more! A metric ton! I want to feel the cumin inside me! It’s better than heroin!”


Editor’s Note: I still have not quite figured out the next caper. Maybe I will by next week.


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