The Orange Man walked into the Situation Room. Before him stood the Secretary of Death and Destruction. Orange Man’s blond comb-over barely moved a micrometer, even though the air conditioner was working overtime, blowing a steady 45-mile wind, trying to keep the air fresh as a daisy. After all, the Persian warlords had offered to make him their daisy, and even though he hadn’t a clue what that meant, he wanted to be prepared.
“Chief Warlord,” he asked, “who are those minions questioning my commands?” He pointed to the lady in blue to his left. Chief Warlord responded, “Oh, my mighty Orange Man, that is a journalist.” The Orange Man then pointed to the dapper, good-looking gentleman in front of him. The mighty Boot Licker promptly replied, “Your Majesty, he is a great senator, and he represents a blue state.”
After a few more, the great and wise comb-over turned to his grand wizard, the Supreme Adviser Zuzie, and asked, “Did any of them vote for me?”
She promptly replied, “Oh Greatness, no, they did not vote for you. In fact, they think you are really just a grand putz.”
The greatest of them all, even greater than Charlie Brown’s Great Pumpkin, stood there and made a royal proclamation: “Sad, So Sad, Well then, if they didn’t vote for me, and if they don’t agree with what I do, then they must be COMMIES, or my middle name isn’t McCarthy.”
Director calls, “Cut, that’s a wrap.” Producer asks, “Well, do you think the sheep will buy it?” The check writer answers, “Sure, why not, they bought everything else so far.”
