Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Maggie Haberman Was Just Fooling Herself If She Thought This Call Was Not Forthcoming

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Gosh, I wonder who this could be. Hello?”

“Baberman! P-Dog here!”

“Speaker Ryan, it’s three in the morning.”

“Prime time, dude! You should stop by the house. It’s me and Zippy and Rosey and Big Mick and Little Mick. Dude, we’re raaaaaaging! Little Mick just fuckin’ Iced Zippy. It was legendary.”

“I’ll bet.”

“You know what Icing is?”

“Sadly, I do.”

“You slam a bottle of Smirnoff Ice down in front of your bro–”

“I said that I knew what it was.”

“–and he’s gotta down that shit. No matter what he’s doing! Rosey got me once when I was plowing the intern with herpes.”

“What?”

“It’s cool. Not like I can get it again, y’know? I go raw on that chick.”

“Wow.”

“I go raw and I go hard.”

“I need to get an unlisted number.”

“You see me give all those old fuckers the finger this morning? I let ’em have it, man.”

“You resigned via a carefully-worded letter.”

“I’m the fucking MAN!”

“You said you were going to spend more time with your family.”

“I am. My bros are my family.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I would DIE for my bros, Maggie!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hold on, Mags. Dude! Dude! Dude! I can’t handle anymore 311. Put on the Sublime record. Hey, I’m back. Gotta ride herd on these boys.”

“Much like you failed to do in the House.”

“That place sucked. All I wanted to do was take Social Security away from the country. And all those dickweeds in there were like, ‘How?’ And I was like, ‘I don’t know how, just do it.’ They just sucked.”

“Did you accomplish anything in your almost 20 years in Congress?”

“I got, like, a warehouse full of office supplies. I could totes open up a Staples.”

“Anything else?”

“Oh, dude, I got sooooooo fucking rich. Folks were lined up to give me money. And check this out: do you know who writes the rules about what to do with the money?”

“You.”

“Me! So, like, I kept a fuck-ton of it.”

“But what did you do for the money?”

“I asked for it. It’s like you don’t understand how politics work, dude.”

“Sure.”

“Can you keep a secret, Sugar Mags?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“You wanna go see Dead & Company this summer?”

“Concentrate, Mr. Speaker.”

“Oh, right. Can you keep a secret?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Ah, fuck it, I’ll tell you anyway. I’m nine MGD’s in. We–the Republicans?–we are gonna get fucking CURBSTOMPED in November. I’ve seen the internal numbers. Well, I had them explained to me. Anyway, we are going down faster than the intern with herpes.”

“I’m sure she has a name.”

“I’m sure she does, too. I just never bothered to learn it.”

“Wow.”

“She has less status than me. Why should I care about her?”

“Just continue.”

“Dude, blue wave? It’s not gonna be a blue wave. It’s a fucking brown wave. You know what that brown is?”

“I do. You don’t have to–”

“Shit, Maggie. A shit tsunami is headed our way. A tshit tsunami. We’re losing the Senate. I’m gonna be as far as I can from this and let Fuckhead and Turtle Boy take all the blame. Let the tshit recede. Then? 2024, maybe 2028? Ryan for President, baby.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I do. Turns out Americans are fucking ‘tards.”

“Not false. What are you going to do now?”

“Ah, dude, that’s a good question. Thinking about me Rosey buying a van, seeing the country. Maybe Europe? Like, take a year and just see all the history and shit, fuck some hairy chicks. Or maybe move to Portland. I dunno. The future is wide open.”

“Do not quote Tom Petty at me.”

“Nothing but blue skies, Magzilla.”

“Paul, out of all the Speakers of the House this country has ever had, you’ve certainly been one of them.”

“WOO! The white man’s A-minus!”

“I’m hanging up.”

WHAM!

“Did you just Ice me?”

“Drink that shit!”

“It doesn’t work over the phone, Paul.”

“Pound that shit, dude!”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE

3 Comments

  1. I’m 100% firmly against dosing people but if Paul Ryan moves to Portland he’s getting dosed

  2. Luther Von Baconson

    April 12, 2018 at 2:47 pm

    Butch Patrick’s stand-in

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