Dear Uncle Samta 09

I need a new decade. I wore this one out. Got a job. Got a better job. Got no job. Maxed out my credit card. Bought a house. Bought some stock. Was rich like twice. More broke now than I’ve been since I was a kid. Lost my hair, some teeth and the ability to read anything after sundown. My toes are down here somewhere. Ate too much shit. Took too much crap. Never got laid but was screwed with great frequency. Paid taxes. Saw doctors. Watched TV. Made friends on the Internet. My ass itches; more now than in any other time in my life. I hope that’s a good sign.

I need stimulus. Young beaver. Silver dollar pancakes. Row boat. A guy with a big hat and big beard to go fishing with. A retired porn star wife who makes beer. She doesn’t have to clean the house. Leave it a mess. My life’s a mess. I’m a mess. I’ll feel at home.

Obama’s been boss for almost a year and not a phone call or an email. I don’t think he’s asking about me. Anyone who knows me would tell me if Obama was asking about me. It’d be like a big deal or something. Invites total strangers to his parties. I don’t even have a record player.

Movies suck. It’s all eye drug and haemoid ice cream. Music’s worse. I freely admit that half the music I enjoyed was noise. Now it’s all noise. An angry hobo screaming at you about shit while you’re laying on the floor of a speeding boxcar.

TV’s all mean people and assholes. I can’t tell if I’m watching a reality show or a cartoon. The only thing more ridiculous and unreal is the News. And it’s a whole different world on every network. Thank god I never sesame to cable.

Young people post photo albums of every moment of youth I’m trying to forget. I expect people under thirty to be depressed, obsessed and psychotic but most of them just look concerned. They look like they’ll be middle-aged in like ten minutes. They scare me, even more than when I was young.

Looks like we have seasons again. Missed them. A cold puddle followed by a big puddle, hot concrete and finally the trees littering. I’d go to the park but I usually step in dog shit.

Happy New Decade

Don Arrup
Satire1

Take My Vote. Please

Senate Majority Leader Reid claims to have sixty senators willing to vote in favor of ending the debate on the bill that no one has read but everyone has bled. Below are democratic senators from around the country on exactly what bribe they demanded.

“I told Harry he’s got to take my mother in law off my hands. He lives two blocks away from me. His wife doesn’t work and is known for her foot rubs. I told him you want my vote I want my life. She can visit us anytime I’m not home. I’ll pay top rent dollar but your wife’s got to feed her and pretend to listen to her sometimes. Otherwise, you’ll wish you were in the Senate.”

“The people of my state need to get laid. I don’t care what it takes: legalizing prostitution, marijuana or gay marriage. I tell them sex is green. I tell them it is the only adult activity we haven’t taxed yet. I tell them it burns calories and aids sleep. A hand job and a bowl of ice cream is Saturday night in our capital. We can’t do anything to protect farm animals. Half our National Guard is in Iraq while our wool and dairy industries are being sodomized.”

“The people of my state aren’t sick. I’ve been in every hospital in my state and everybody’s just having babies or too damn old or did something stupid.
They have pills for everything. If you’re a senior we almost cover it. If not then the pharmacist is going to step around the counter and pull your pants off. Your wallet won’t cover it. Wear a long coat. This bill mentions that problem. I’ve been promised that.”

“I want the Super Bowl in our state. At least once a decade. Hell, we have a stadium you can bang your wife in but in the Hollywood Football League if you’re not on the coast or belly of this country you don’t exist.”

Don Arrup
Satire1

All For Joe

President Obama responded to the Health Care debate:

Of course Joe is going to get his way. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Joe is the way. I ran for the Office of the President of the United States in order to serve Joe. Every decision I make is ultimately weighed on a single scale: What’s good for Joe.

Now, I can’t take all the credit. The House of Representatives and the Senate have been working tirelessly to put on a show to dramatize the inevitable outcome. Way to go Joe.

Now Joe isn’t related to the plumber. They’re just both Joes. If there is any relation through family or organization I am totally unaware of it. The plumber lost anyway. Joe won. Joe always wins.

God bless Joe. Thank you.

Don Arrup
Satire1

Obama In Plain English

Afghanistan is f**ked up. It was before I took office and has been getting more f**ked up ever since. So we’re going to kick some ass. The Taligang has gotten bigger so I’m sending in more boots. They’re not staying forever. We’re kicking ass and then handing it over to the locals. Tell them we’ll send you some money. Keep a couple of our wise guys to talk to you. You do the bleeding and dying. Its your home not ours.

All of their neighbors are trouble. Some have nukes and some are developing nukes. And they all hate each other. The Osama gang is working the whole neighborhood and looking to trouble us. They’ve troubled us in the past and we’ve had enough of it.

Now it’s going to suck for a while. And even if we get everything out of this caper that we want it’s still going to suck. So the question is do we shrink the gun they’re pointing at us or do we keep losing over there or pull our people home and suck the big one soon.

How are we going to pay for all this? I say since we’re the biggest dog there we demand our cut of the corruption. A percentage of the heroin trade alone would pay for Afghanistan and Iraq.

And I know a lot of my critics have been complaining about my administration having our hand up our butt over this for weeks but we had to first figure which hand it was so we knew we were smelling the right fingers. I think we have a pretty good idea now. So you can all sleep better now knowing that the war, death and debt will go on.

Don Arrup
Satire1