The election is over, and a magical thing happened. My life has suddenly become better, just like the president promised. On Monday, I was getting harassed by robocalls. I was bombarded with annoying Facebook posts linking to far-left and far-right blogs spinning nonsense. My mailbox was filled with flyers sporting pictures of middle-aged men and women who weren’t even close to being attractive enough to stare at while masturbating.
Every TV show, news story, commercial and radio program kept regurgitating the same footage of wealthy candidates who haven’t held a real job in decades telling me how challenging their life has been. Telling me boring stories about boring people they met in Ohio who “inspired them”. I don’t give a crap about some dip from Cleveland. You know who lives in Cleveland? Dumb assholes. But today I can go back to ignoring boring Ohio, and that makes my life infinitely better.
All of our lives have improved since Monday, just like the president promised. My friends are more tolerable. The internet is fun again. My penis seems slightly bigger than it was on Monday. I have thicker, more illustrious hair with more shine and bounce. My laundry smells better. I actually enjoy pickles now. I thought pickles looked like a dead frog’s foreskin on Monday, but today I think they’re great. I hated Christian Ponder on Monday. I hate him even more now, but I feel more positive about my hatred for him. That hatred feels right today. It’s like my hate has been given a fresh start and a clean slate.
It just feels great to be alive today. The sun is shining, the birds are singing and Honey Boo Boo is one day closer to death. It will be an overdose in her early teens. I can feel it! Yes! Today is Paul’s day! Today is one of those days where you can just sense that you’re going to get laid by a girl who’s way prettier than you. Way prettier. Like “Price is Right Lady Who’s Paid to Point at Things” pretty. Like “Wants to Be an Actress But Refuses to Audition or Practice or Do Anything Other Than Get Drunk at Trendy Parties” pretty.
I will be terrible in bed, because of my anxiety and all, but still, chalk one up in the win column for your good buddy Paul!
Both Obama and Romney promised that our lives would be tremendously better if they were elected president. I’m glad we chose the right one. Imagine if the vote had gone the other way? I’d probably still be getting mailers with homely middle-aged people on them, and my hair would have shine but no bounce. Thank you, new or same president! Thank you for changing everything!
I know some people were hoping for the recession to suddenly stop, or the price of used cars to not be hilarious anymore, or for Todd Akin to remove his hand from the vagina of every woman in the nation, but the president got rid of the robocalls and Facebook posts. Could you really ask for much more from your president? Our nation’s new or possibly same president isn’t FDR, but he’s RDF: Really Down to Funk. I don’t know what that means exactly, but it sounds exciting.
If we want the next four years to be the best of our lives, we need to lower our standards. We need to do more drugs and drink strange liquids that have warning labels on them. We need to watch more football and take out more of our frustrations on family members who happen to be sitting near us when Devin Aromashodu drops the ball. Breathe in the air, America. Taste it with your face!
Seriously, does the air taste fresher to anyone else? Maybe it’s just because it’s 6am and I’m drunk, but everything in the world feels extra neat right now. I’ll bet if I went to the dentist today, that root canal I’ve been putting off for three years would feel great. Does anyone else also feel like they might vomit at any given moment? Like if the wind blows in a slightly different direction they might just throw up until they die? No one? Just me? Okay. Ugh, I knew that extra bottle of post-election Strawberry Fields was a mistake, but I didn’t want to leave them. I didn’t want to leave Boone’s Farm. Jesus Christ, I feel awful. The president can go to hell.
Does anyone know what happens if you take mescaline to cure a hangover? What if you take all of the mescaline? How much? I dunno. Like all of it. What? There’s a president vote? Who’s running? Abe Lincoln’s brother? Excellent news. He’ll fix that problem with bananas being hard to find in the future. He’ll keep those bananas from going extinct. Mazel tov.