By contributing writer T. White

We can all agree our country is pretty much fucked right now (unless you live in Texas, in which case you’re too concerned with fucking your sister and hanging Confederate flags to pay attention to such matters). Even with the new election upon us, I see no reprise. We need balls in the White House. Huge ones. I’m talking Sylvester Stallone sized balls. I’m talking burn down a kindergarten and bitch-slap your wife sized balls. Since Rocky isn’t available, I’m stepping up.

Now I don’t exactly have millions of dollars to spend on a campaign. So this is where you come in. I have $28 and an eye-catching flyer I made in Photoshop. Let’s make it hot, people.

First off, you may be interested in my platform—allow me to entice. I am going to pimp America. And I said it that way on purpose. Pimp my America. Get Xzibit on the horn. I’m putting rims on this bitch, five 40” subs, 29 flat screen TV’s, and a fog machine. Other countries are going to stop in their tracks when they see President J Brown hitting the switches on 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.

For those of you who are thinking, “Well maybe I don’t want to pimp my country—I like America the way it is right now,” let me tell you why you’re wrong.


Americans may not be ready for a black president, but they’re definitely ready for some 20″ rims.

And before I do that, I want to split my target audience by gender. For each gender, the reasoning will differ, due to the fact that women are completely insane. I would not want to discount their interest.

MEN:

Our national debt is approaching one gazillion dollars (is that what’s after trillion?).

What this means for you:

While you’re hard at work every day for the rest of your life punching in 40 hour weeks, a third of your salary is going towards paying our debt.

WOMEN:

Our national debt is approaching one gazillion dollars (as if you could even count that high).

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What this means for you:

While you’re on your back popping out babies and your husband is hard at work every day for the rest of his life punching in 40 hour weeks, a third of his salary is NOT buying you new shoes.


MEN:

Our legal system is being eaten up by completely frivolous law suits. For example, recently, in Wisconsin, a local boy shot his principal. He
admitted to killing the principal. Everyone saw it. He even admitted to taking his father’s guns, loading them, and bringing them to school.

Why you fucking care:

This crime actually made it to court. Should I be dictator, ahem, uh president, this case is fucking closed. By case closed I don’t mean put him in jail. No, no. With the exception of the occasional sausage in your poop shoot, jail is not so bad. His punishment will be getting shot the exact same way as the principal. Should he, by some miracle survive—well, that’s survival of the fittest. Right, Darwin?

WOMEN:

The men in suits and big robes are very busy in that room that looks like a church.

Why you fucking care:

Remember that letter of complaint you wrote to Maybelline because the water-proof nail polish came off with your husband’s semen? Well, don’t expect it to come to fruition anytime soon. They’re too busy trying to find out how Anna Nicole died. You should be able to hold more in your mouth anyway.


MEN:

Your son is a homosexual.

Why this is not good:

Your dream of retiring on the 12 to 6 curveball of your superstar son just went out the window. Now I have absolutely no problem with gay people. I hold no prejudice based on race or sexual preference (what’s that Texas; you talking again?). What I do have a problem with is that I have to go to work. Every day. And, stereotypically (law of averages), gay people sprinkle glitter more than they throw chin music to Barry Bonds. Not exactly going to buy me a beach house.

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WOMEN:

Your daughter is one of those ugly, mean lesbians who doesn’t shave her cooter.

Why this is not good:

Prom queen? No. Cheerleading captain? No. President of the “Flannel Button-Down Shirts Club”? Yes. A woman’s only regret is that she doesn’t have more surface area on her body to apply make-up to (maybe this is why they get so fat…). Having a daughter is like buying a fresh, wrinkle-free canvas to paint on. Expect no make-up to be worn here. Your daughter is now the one with the curveball. But because women’s sports are a suffrage movement joke, no one will be retiring. You’ll be spending all your time driving across the country watching games, alone, while your husband is under the bleachers masturbating to the hot chicks in short shorts on the other team (the hot girls literally play for the other team).


All in all, the need for change is pretty evident. If I may take just a second to retort—we’re wasting money we don’t have, we’re wasting time we don’t have, and our kids are turning into homos.

Do you really think Hillary Clinton doesn’t want your daughter munching carpet? Do you really think Barack Obama doesn’t sound dangerously close to Osama Bin Laden?

Do not fret. I am here to save the day. Before you know it, we’ll be waging the real war—the war that is far, far overdue: we will finally annex Canada. Also, court cases will strictly be reserved for only two situations: prosecuting people who stop abruptly while walking in front of you, and wet t-shirt contests (the ugliest girl always wins because she gets naked and fingers herself). And, of course, and you’ll be sitting in your season tickets right behind the dugout sipping a 7& 7 getting your son’s leftovers.

J Brown for President ’08!

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