Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Market crash, yes!!!

Well old Bill is a lousy husband but I'll give him this. He knows politics. He's the one who told me all those years ago, keep the money flowing to the Chinese, it'll pay off someday. Well, here we are. And they're tanking the market for us, right on schedule. A few more tremors during the primaries and then as we get into the home stretch we'll take her right down. Nothing like a market crash and a bad economy to scare the crap out of people and make them change parties. Right on! Great thing about the Chinese is they hate Bush even more than we do. They're dying to get rid of him and all the Republicans for that matter. Who can blame them? Of course they want communists in power in the U.S., and we're the closest they've got. Thanks a zillion, Chinese leaders! We'll owe you big time when we get into office, just like last time. A million favors are coming your way.

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

My goodness I can sing

Check it out. I start singing about halfway through and I must say, I do have a lovely voice.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Barack Obama is not black

Thank God people are finally starting to realize it. Started with this piece we paid Debra Dickerson to write in Salon. I mean, I know what black is, since I'm married to America's first black president. And anyone who's lived our experience as an interracial couple knows that Obama just ain't black. Put it this way. Did he grow up in the South? Does he like to overeat? Does he chase pussy? Is he unable to restrain himself when white women throw themselves at him? Does he speak in rhymes and grab his dick when he talks? Has he ever worn a satin track suit and gold chains? No. Barack grew up in Hawaii, appears to eat a healthy diet and remains monogamous. He wears well-made suits and went to friggin law school. Doesn't even know how to rap. Ergo, not black. And luckily the black voters of America are realizing that and turning on him. As they should.

What a fucking week

David Geffen calls me a liar. Wow. David Geffen. A guy who even in Hollywood is considered pond scum. A guy who went to court to keep kids from swimming in the sea or walking on the beach in front of his house. (See here.) Yeah, a real moral authority. He's mad because he tried to pay off my husband, our first black president, to pardon a cop-killing Indian named Leonard Peltier. Right. That's gonna happen. What politician doesn't want to be known as the person who sprang a cop-killer? And did it for money? Yet David thought he was gonna be this big hero of the left and went around telling everyone he was gonna get Peltier sprung. He also made the very huge mistake of telling Peltier himself. Not exactly the kind of guy you want to get pissed off at you. I guess some of his Apache brethren were making threats. Or bikers or something.

Oh well. David "Penis Issues" Geffen took his cheap shot. It's done. We're moving forward.

Monday, February 19, 2007

Crackers, take down your cracker flag

Goddamn you racist South Carolina white people with your fucking racist flag. Yeah, yeah, fair enough. Don't vote for me. You know what? I don't want your racist votes. That's right. You heard me. Go vote for Republicans. Phew! Sooner I get out of this goddamn hillbilly state the better. And I'm gonna throw out these shoes. There. I said it.

People say I seem fake

No, honestly. It's one of the things we pick up most frequently in our polling. I just don't get it. Because I work so hard at trying to seem sincere. I mean, I really, really work at it. And frankly, I like to think I'm pretty convincing.

Dear Republicans: I come in peace

I know, you've heard all sorts of bad stuff about me. But come on, Republicans. You know, deep down, that I'm one of you. I voted for the war in Iraq. And as president I'll send even more troops over there and get the job done right. Despite what you've heard, I'm not pro abortion. In fact I'm against abortion. But, well, I've said what I had to say to get into office. Remind you of anyone? Like, your current prez? Or Mitt Romney? Or Rudy? Please. You know how the game is played. We're all big kids here. So let's be honest with one another. I'm a rich lawyer. I don't want to pay taxes. Okay? So look, let me go play ball with these nitwits in Hollywood. But at the end of the day, I'm all about Wall Street and Big Oil. You know it. Come on. Let's pretend we're secret lovers. We're having an affair. Okay? We'll keep it all hush hush. But you know what? It's hotter that way.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

I'm not going to apologize for my war vote

I'm also not going to admit I made a mistake. Look. It's a trick. And it's being staged by the Repubes. They want me to get pulled left in the primary and then they can call me a flip-flopper. Yes, there are people in my camp who are scared of the Deaniacs and Daily Kos and all those other wacko left-wing freaks, and who think that unless I kiss their commie asses I can't win the primary. Please. Who is going to beat me in the primary? Obama? Really. Friends, Barack Obama is going to self-destruct and collapse like a fucking bad souffle. Edwards? He's a girl. Sharpton? Riiight. Wesley Clark? Folks, we don't elect midgets. Now listen carefully. Despite all the sanctimonious leftie horseshit in the far-left Democratic base, the fact is that Democratic politics are just like Republican politics. And the golden rule is and always has been: Money talks. Why do you think Bill and I chose to become Democrats all those years ago? Trust me, we came this close to going Republican. But we realized early on that because Democrats are in general so inept at raising money that we could outsmart them more easily than Republicans. And all you've gotta do is throw some rhetoric at them about liking gays and supporting abortion and affirmative action, and you're in. Heck you don't even have to actually do anything to support those causes. Just say the right thing. Honestly, it's almost too easy.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Mitt Romney wears funny underpants

I'm not making this up. All Mormons wear this special thing called "the Garment." Which is basically a pair of underpants and an undershirt that a 19th-century pioneer might wear. Andrew Sullivan did a whole thing on it last year. And he ran the photo (above) in his blog to give people an idea of what Mormons look like under their clothes. Well, I'm not saying this makes Mitt unfit to be president. (I think having a name like "Mitt" does that by itself. I mean WTFIUWT?) But I would like to urge all voters, when you see Mitt speaking, to remember what he's got on underneath those crisp, well-tailored suits.

Sunday, February 11, 2007

I'm sorry but Al Sharpton is nuts

He calls me up a few days ago and he's all outraged because in some radio interview about the big snowstorms in upstate New York I said something about cars sliding on black ice. "That's racist!" he tells me. "Black ice? Are you kidding me? How come when you go skating around on the ice at Rockefeller Center, it's just plain old ice, no color. But when someone slides in they car and hit a damn pole, now it's black ice? Huh? Tell me what's up with that. Why are blacks always to blame for all the bad stuff in this world? I don't hear anyone saying people are dying in New York because of white snow. Do you? Yet you know damn well if they could they'd find a way to have black snow just so they could blame stuff on it. And don't even get me started on Brother Obama because you know he ain't even black, that's the God's truth."

God I can't wait for the debates.

Friday, February 9, 2007

Little Miss Edwards can't control her bloggers

See here in case you missed it. Now let me get this straight. He hires two vulgar skanks without doing any background checks. Then when he finds out about the stuff they've written, it takes him 36 hours to make a decision. And the decision is? To keep them on staff. Seriously? And this spineless pussy thinks people are going to make him the leader of the free world? A guy who can't stand up to a pair of dirty joke writing bloggers? Miss Edwards, as of today you are officially out of the running. Keep spending money if you want to, but you don't stand a chance.

Thursday, February 8, 2007

Donatella Versace has fashion advice for me

See here. Says I shouldn't wear pants. Should wear skirts instead. Wow. Thanks, Donatella. It's so nice that you're offering to help. You dog-faced skank.

Wednesday, February 7, 2007

I swear I will rip this guy's fucking lungs out

Look at him, giving me that look. This was at the National Prayer Breakfast a few days ago. Big Mr. I've Been A Senator For Fifteen Minutes And Now I'm Gonna Be President. Just makes me sick to see him lording it over everyone. Especially when I think of what I had to go through, the dues I had to pay to get where I am today. Let's be honest. Obama is a nice enough kid, but he doesn't stand a chance. I liked him well enough as long as he was willing to play along like that. But now? Now I want to fuck him up just for drills. You should see the dossier we have on this guy. And our little operators at the Times are just waiting to pull the trigger. Now I don't want to ruin the surprise. But let's just say that Little Mrs. Obama ain't gonna be smiling when the news hits. Here's a hint: Someone's got a taste for vanilla.

Tuesday, February 6, 2007

Rudy tries to steal my slogan

Check this out. He's in this to win. Riiight. Where have we heard this before? This guy is a regular Joe Biden style plagiarist. Truth is we're not worried about Rudy. He can't suvive the Republican primary. He's pro-choice. He's divorced. He lived with a pair of trannies when his wife threw him out. Worst of all he's Catholic. Which in the worldview of the Repubes is about the same as worshipping Satan.

Rudy, you're a nice guy. You were a great mayor. But you're not gonna president. You read it here first.

Sunday, February 4, 2007

About the Super Bowl

You know, I'm really sad that my beloved Bears lost the game. But I'm even sadder for the thousands of women in America who will suffer domestic abuse tonight. When I'm president, we'll stop this. I promise.

I have a plan to stop global warming

Involves putting satellites into space and spinning the earth backward in time, to before the Industrial Revolution, then starting over using wind and solar power instead of oil. It's complicated, but I've already got a panel of top scientists and campaign donors working on it in secret; full report should be out in 2010 and then we'll hit the ground running.

Would you please shut the fuck up and listen to me?

These fucking hecklers are driving me nuts. Like I
told these leftie wingnuts,
look, I'm not the one who started this fucking war. Yes, I voted for it. But I didn't start it. And now I'm against it. And if the Monkey can't get us out of there before I'm elected, well, it'll be the first thing I do. Right after I give gays the right to marry and serve in the military, and institute free health care for everyone, just like last time, back in 1992. Remember? We pledged to get those gays serving in the military and goddammit we kept our promise and totally made it a top priority.

Thursday, February 1, 2007

Joe Biden's press secretary says he can't take it anymore

Poor guy. Who can blame him? It's like working for Jesse Ventura. You never know what the crazy buffoon is gonna say next. Overnight polls show Paris Hilton has a better chance of becoming president than Joe "I like clean blacks" Biden. Sheesh.

Jimmy's wife tossed him out again

Poor crazy bastard. He called me last night. Collect. From a pay phone. Drunk, of course. So blotto he could barely speak. To be honest even when he's sober I can't understand the guy. He's like Ahmawahmgonnabeonnawityabalahalabaldh... Then he starts crying. He's at a pay phone because he lost his Blackberry in a bar, a strip bar of some kind, and now he's afraid someone's got his phone and is gonna go through his address book and start prank calling Barney Frank and everyone else he's got in there. And he needs to call Verizon wireless and get his service shut off, but he can't get the 800 number for Verizon because someone stole the fucking phone book from this fucking goddamn cocksucking phone booth, and it's raining like a motherfucker and he's got no overcoat because he also lost that in the strip bar and his wallet was in that overcoat so he's lost that too and he needs to go back into rehab again and this time he's really gonna get serious about it.

Poor Jimmy. He's a troubled soul. Brilliant, in his own way, but really, really certifiably crazy. I sent a car for him and had Krista, my new "overnight assistant" (sweet kid; Smith College, class of '04; ahem) get out of bed and put on some clothes and make us some coffee. Jimmy drank some coffee and cried some more and then he just lay down on the couch with his head in my lap. What is it about these troubled genius type men? Why are they so attracted to me?

As for Mr. Big, don't even get me started. He stumbled in at three in the morning, also drunk, highly disheveled, and his breath smelled of pussy. Says, "Oh, hey, honey, I thought you were in Des Moines or something." Well, at least he had the good sense not to bring the sluts home with him this time. As long as he does his doggie business outside I'm okay. That's the deal.

Oh well. Come here, little Jimmy, and let Mama rub your shiny head. And Krista, honey, put away the Ben Wa balls, and I promise I'll make it up to you tomorrow night, okay?