Boy oh boy do we have egg on our face!
Remember when we were mercilessly ridiculing El Jefe, Captain Hussein “Rambo” McGutsy Call for being gutsy at all in making a decision that anybody with a pulse and two functioning synapses heck, even Jimmeh Cahd’uh would have made, stating that there was, most certainly, not a single commander-in-chief in our entire history that would have nixed bumping off Osama bin Fishsticks?
Yeah, well, we fucked up. We were wrong. So sue us.
Turns out Barry “One Man Army” Obam-bam actually did. Not just once in January, not just once again February, but a mind-fuckingly abnormally retarded three times total when he nixed it again in March. And then he tried to waffle a fourth time in May before he finally allowed himself to be dragged, kicking and screaming, off the golf course like a big, whiny, diapered baby so he could reluctantly watch Osama bin Sharkfood get his noggin asploded.
And all because that noted military expert, five star general and special ops specialist Valerie Jarrett, wouldn’t let him nod in assent to killing the motherfucking goat molester who’d murdered 3,000 of our countrymen.
“Mr. President. The son of a syphilitic whore who used civilian air liners as cruise missiles to murder thousands of Americans is located. All we need is the go ahead and we’ll take the fucker out.”
“Er, uh, ah, um, uh, uh… Valerie, what do you say? Is it OK with you?”
One month later:
“Mr. President. We’re all set again. Just give us the nod and we’ll wipe the haji fuck off the map.”
“Er, ahem, I mean, ah, breathalyzer, paralegals, uh, ayup, ah, erm, Valerie says I shouldn’t, so, I guess I can’t let you.”
One month later:
“Mr. President. For the third time, we’ve got him ready to ride the express train to hell. Now, with all due respect, don’t you think it’s time?”
“Sniffle, Val-Val says you’re just a bunch of big meanie-heads and she’s hid my binky and says I can’t have it back if I let you go do mean stuff, WAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!”
Yet ANOTHER freaking month later:
“Oh fuck it all with that big cry-baby. Just go ahead and do it. Go find him when we’ve got boots on the ground so he can sit around sullenly and watch us do his job for him.”
Approximately three nano-seconds after Osama bin Guppy Chow has been dispatched to Hades, in front of sixteen microphones broadcast on all available frequencies in the nation:
Barry Hussein “Gutsy Call McTerminator” Ogabe: “And so I announce that I, after I’d crawled all over Poh-kee-stahn for weeks on my rippled abs, collecting intelligence so that I could track the scumbag down, escaping barely with my life on at least forty-five different occasions, once I had made it back to the United States undercover as a Saudi fisherman smuggling Val-u-rite to Riyadh and having personally fought off half an army group of bloodthirsty jihadis with nothing by my wits and my trusty pocket knife, I hijacked a black helicopter and flew it halfway across the world, I rappelled into Osama bin Laden’s compound and I felled thirty-seven hundred terrorists with my awesome roundhouse kick, the one I taught Chuck Norris by the way, and I strangled that vile terrorist in his own intestines. With both of my hands tied behind my back!!! Yeah, you’re welcome, America. Oh, and I’ll be reminding you every twenty minutes from now on until November.”
WHAT a guy!
Apart from the obvious humor in this, we can’t honestly say that we find it particularly comforting that the actual commander-in-chief is Valerie Jarett.
And, lest you put on your Misogynist Robe of Destruction (+5 against males), let us say for the record that, had Hillary Clinton been president now (OK, we’re going to have nightmares from just having typed that), we don’t as much as suspect that she’d have crawled off to some dumb staffer to ask for permission to take out one of the worst subhuman animals to have ever bothered the planet with its existence. She’d most likely have cackled her trademark cackle while giving the order and, for once, we wouldn’t have minded a bit.
Not one little bit.