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B.O.’s Final Days in Office
I ran into my old girlfriend, Dee Facto, yesterday as she walked out of the world-famous Anthony “All Beef” Weiner wing of the Capitol Hill Sex Addiction Clinic and Spa in Washington, DC.
Dee looked worn out.
“What have you been up to, girl?” I asked, after removing her hand from my derriere, of which she was very fond when we dated.
“I checked into this clinic for a week,” Dee said, “after finishing my gig in the White House as assistant to President B.O.’s Press Secretary, Joshing N. Earnest.”
“You meet some nice people during your stay in the clinic?”
“I guess,” she said, running her fingers through my hair, “but we didn’t do much talking, and I didn’t get much sleep, which is what I really needed after B.O.’s last month as President.”
“Seems like you guys were pretty busy in December and January in the White House. What do you consider the administration’s greatest hits on your way out?”
“Immigration orders were a big deal,” Dee said, stroking my inner thigh in search of my number one erogenous zone. “We tried to get as many new Democrat voters into the country as we could. B.O. made a top-secret agreement with Australia to take 1,200 criminally-insane terrorists who’ve been living on their Devil’s Island-type prison in exchange for a two-week golf and snorkeling adventure for B.O. and some golf buddies at the Great Barrier Reef Resort. The President needed to unwind after his grueling 37-day Christmas golf vacation in Hawaii.”
“Where did y’all decide to place the 1,200 in the US.?”
“Former Hungarian George Sore Loser agreed to hire several hundred to work in his Berkley and NYU fight clubs. Those with bomb-building and arson skills will be on his payroll as full-time anarchists, deployed around the country in the luxury buses Mr. George uses to transport them from riot to riot. The rest will work for the DNC, SEIU, Black Knives Matter, BowelMoveOn.org and NEA, in their voter-registration drives. They’ve already come up with a slogan: ‘Vote Democrat or Die.’”
“Catchy. I guess B.O. didn’t get to close Gitmo.”
“No, but we did manage to transfer all but about forty detainees. I helped B.O. and Joshing work on releasing those 40 guys after making them cross their hearts and hope to die that they’d be good. But the Taliban scaredy-cats backed out of the deal at the last minute, claiming the 40 or so Bad Hombres were too dangerous to resettle in Afghanistan.”
“The new president has ordered construction to begin on the wall on the Mexican border,” I said. “Y’all can’t be too happy about that.”
“We don’t care,” Dee laughed, trying to unzip my jeans, “because on January 19 we completed the extension of I-5 deep into Mexico with eight northbound lanes elevated 70 feet over the border controls.”
“How many southbound lanes?”
“One gravel lane is authorized, but construction has yet to start. And get this. We adapted red-light camera technology to photograph all the occupants of a car as it speeds north to California. Using facial recognition software, the computer that runs the cameras generates a photograph and driver’s license for each driver and passenger, and registers them to vote at the same time.”
“But won’t those eight northbound lanes allow millions more non-citizens to enter and vote? Their photos will be on their driver’s licenses, and California law prohibits poll workers from asking for proof of citizenship when they show up to vote.”
“You can’t prove they’re voting illegally,” Dee said, leaning toward me to highlight her fashionable décolletage and impressive cleavage. “That’s the beauty of it. The conservatives claim illegals are voting, but California has fixed the process so that it is impossible to prove. And they all vote Democrat! Sweet.”
“I know B.O. must be very proud.”
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it. He ordered all US pipelines to be filled with cement; pardoned the Unabomber, Jeffrey Dahmer, the Green River Killer, and 900 other serial killers; expelled 35 Russian Orthodox priests because of Rootin’ Tootin’ Pootin’s interference with the election; declared all offshore waters for 200 miles out as protected habitats for the endangered Asian Carp; created new national parks and monuments on a trillion acres in the western US; and finally, as he walked to his helicopter after the inauguration of Big D, wearing a “Death To Israel” tee shirt, B.O. shot the bird to Benjamin Nuttin’ Yahoo.
“Holy Cow,” I said. “You sure accomplished a lot.”
“I’m thinking of traveling abroad for a while,” Dee said, making one last unsuccessful reach for my private parts. “Between my frenetic activity in the clinic and B.O.’s work in his final days in office, I am really tired of [expletive] Americans.”
Michael Henry Copyright © 2017
Just about every time I read one of these stories, I figured you’ve maxed out the hilarity. And then you top yourself again. Thank you, Mr. Henry.
Huh, you used to write humor fiction, when did you switch to straight journalism?
Funny stuff. Nice to get some humor. Thank you.
I can’t get past “All Beef” Weiner wing”
Yes, and Dee Facto has a nice ring to it, also.
Well done, Mike — you summed up things nicely.
I didn’t know there was a difference between décolletage and cleavage. Thanks for making me look that up – I learned something new today!
Do tell us. I don’t want to go to google.
So, do you have Dee’s number? I am asking for a friend.
Dee asked me to let all you guys know that she’ll be at the next Ricochet.com annual convention for some in depth probes and “interview” sessions. She’s doing research for a calendar she’s publishing soon, entitled THE MEN OF RICOCHET, and for her upcoming novella, FIFTY SHADES OF GRAY HAIR. Stay tuned.
You should come with her, Michael. Seriously. There will be a weekend meetup in Las Vegas in March, and another one near Glacier National Park in Montana in September.
Oh, that’s good news. I’m looking forward to her novella Fifty Shades of Gray Hair. If it’s anything like her previous New York Times best seller Fifty Shades of Graybeards, it’ll be a big hit!
http://lmgtfy.com/?q=d%C3%A9colletage
That’s pretty cool. Thanks for showing me that trick.
Still doesn’t answer my question — Google’s first definition says it’s the low neckline of a blouse or the cleavage. I hate to break it to you but that doesn’t a difference make.
(blushing)
I think it’s the difference between the sun coming up over the mountains and the light reflected off the valley down below.
Bears more study, though. Let me get back to you in a while…
(blushing even more)
Now — that’s a nice description if I ever read one.