Do You Voodoo?

So the other day I read vicariously through my manservant Manolo, that Obama’s baby momma’s momma was doing voodoo in the in the Weisshaus.

And?? Mary Todd Lincoln held séances at the White House to get in contact with her dead son, Willie. Oh you didn’t know that?

After Ronnie got capped in ’81, Nancy Reagan brought in an astrologer to plan his every move. What, you hadn’t heard?

Hillary fucking Clinton used to channel the ghost of Elanor Roosevelt, and chat to Gandhi for inspiration. Doesn’t ring any bells?

What? Does it all sound so outlandish, and require such a suspension of reality to be believable that it’s just totalisch ridiculous? Ever watched one of my supersmashhitboxofficemovies??

Maybe you’ve seen True Lies, where ugly terrorists nuke the Florida Quays and I fly a Harrier jump-jet in between office buildings? Or perhaps you might’ve see Commando, where I kill the inhabitants of an entire state to get my daughter back from the clutches of a gay madman?

And if you haven’t seen those, then you will definitely have caught The Terminator, where I play a robot that comes back from the future to make sure Cameron’s ex-wife doesn’t give birth to Edward Furlong, who will eventually save the human race from eradication at the hands of merciless cybernetic killing machines.

Any of that sound believable? Are you fucking kidding me?

Yet you Dummköpfe paid at least five bucks a piece to see each one of those films – about the cost of your average chicken these days – so what the hell do you care about a few of them running headless around the Oval Office? EEYYYYAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH^TM!!

Believe me Amerika, you ain’ seen nothing yet. When I become President of the Universe in 2012 (just put the ballot in the box), I’m gonna build that 500 foot-tall fire-breathing, solid gold statue of CROM on the front lawn of the White House, and there’s gonna be tits everywhere.