by John Hawkins | May 24, 2005 12:01 am
“I’m sorry, sir,” The restaurant manager apologized, “but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
I folded my arms. “I see. Is it because I’m wearing nothing but my undershorts?”
“You’re getting warm,” he replied.
I didn’t want to do anything for my “birthday”. Personally, I find the act of celebrating the exact day one’s birth pointless, as no one really knows for certain when a person is “born”. Is it when they take Jaaaay-zus as their personal savior, like the Evangelical Religious Extremists say, or when the child first registers as a democrat, as most scientists believe? It is indeed a conundrum. Unfortunately, Myranda with a Y got her tiny rat claws on my driver’s license and concluded I was born on May 20, and insisted on taking me out for a “birthday dinner”.
Myranda and I have been dating for about three weeks now, and I am starting to suspect she’s a GOP operative sent by Karl Rove to keep tabs on me. I was almost certain of it when she fled the restaurant feigning disgust and embarassment mere seconds after I had dropped my pants. Say what you will about Peaceblossom, my former significant other who may or may not have been a member of the transgendered community, but she was always up for a spontaneous display of patriotic dissent. Myranda’s abandonment made me miss Peaceblossom all the more.
“For your information,” I curtly told the manager, “I am engaging in performance art to illustrate how the right-wing chickensheep of the red states enjoy their expensive meals in their fancy schmancy restaurants, while they send young boys thousands of miles away to force harmless, innocent old geezers to model underwear in our name.”
“Oh, is that what you were doing?” the fascist snipped. “I thought you were standing in the middle of a Chuck E. Cheese with your pants around your ankles, scaring the crap out of the kids!”
He pointed to a corner, where a group of small children in party hats huddled together, their pale faces reflecting shock and horror. “The poor things will be scarred for life!”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?” Or are they so brainwashed by Rush Limbaugh that their tiny repug brains won’t accept an opposing viewpoint?”
As much as I despise “birthdays”, being roughed up by jackbooted Nazis in mouse costumes was not how I wanted to remember my thirty-eiiiiiiiegggnog.
D*mn that Bush!
This satire was used with the permission of Liberal Larry from BlameBush!.
Source URL: https://rightwingnews.com/uncategorized/bush-ruined-my-birthday-satire-by-liberal-larry/
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