Reposting my comment from McCarty’s blog here in case something happens to it over there:
Unlike lazybones Bob, I have googled every word in the speech and have determined that every single word in it has been used by someone, at some point, in history. Osama’s… snicker, excuse me… Obama’s failure to use his own words proves that he is the black, leftist, Muslim, reincarnation of Hitler! Wooop woop yarrrg blarg!
Momma’s little baby loves shortnin’, shortnin’, Momma’s little babies love shortnin’ bread. Then Momma’s little babies love obesity, chronic illness, and the fact that most trans fats aren’t served restaurants but instead are Super Marketed into your home.
me and Barack always used to ridicule his funny sounding name, we would say, “Dansano, that’s not an Indonesian name, What are you, a dago, or something?” and then finally we chopped his head off. So don’t make fun of his name. It’s a real name. I feel kind of bad about it now, even though it was Barack’s idea.
There’s a, uh, another thing, me and him, we blew up Krakatoa. We never got blamed but I was scared shit for long time. Barack dropped this M80 in this big mother hole out back, and there was smoke and flame and shit and we were like, o fuck, we better get out of here. I got home, my mother was crying, and I thought I was gonna get that “I’m very disappointed” shit again but turned out she just thought I was dead or something. And when these tidal waves hit and the sun dimmed and we started reading about it on the news I thought the cops would come knocking any day. After that I said no more.
In the cafeteria at Madrasa school there were these guys from Timor. This one guy, Azagoovada Ovadovada, every day his mother would give him a ding dong for lunch. Always a ding dong. And every frickin day Barack would wait until the Timor jerkoffs all got on line together, to get a hot dog or something, and he would walk, you know how he is, just cool, over to the table and fucking smash that ding dong into a flat pulp. And then he would walk back with that big smile and just sit down like nothing. Day after day. And Azagoovada got more and more pissed off until one day he snapped. He blamed it on somebody, I don’t know, Supadupada or somebody, he started shaking him around until the gym teacher stopped it and then the next thing we hear, there was gonna be a fight after school out back. Everybody was all around when the time came, and Supadupada’s cousin showed up with a bicycle chain, and then Timor guys just came outa everywhere just whalin on each other. Barack was just smiling and everybody was dappin him cause most of the Timor guys were leaning back flailin around with their thumbs in their fists and squinchin up their eyes and turning their faces away like total pussies. Fuckin hilarious. But that fight started this giant like war that lasted for years and years and killed millions of people in East Timor. The UN hadda come. Every time somebody mentioned a new atrocity Barack would make this great serious face right at me so you would be almost exploding from trying not to laugh.
Timmy Sukarno and Bangbang Suharto were inseparable best buds in eighth grade. We called them the ‘mos though Bang had a girlfriend. Her eyes looked in different directions but she had big jugs so Barack decided one day he would boof her. And of course he did, it took like two days and he talked her into it and when they shut off the lights at Gowanoputri Falalagupchi’s party he nailed her in the basement can. We emptied out the toilet upstairs and listened in through the pipes. She was moanin and wailing, faking it, you could tell. We had a contest to imitate it. You would of thought they could hear us, if we heard them, but maybe they thought that her deafening fake orgasmic screams were just bouncing around the room in giant echoes, I don’t know. Anyway it was my turn and just at that moment Bang came in and he recognized it, you could see it on his face. Moan moan wail, moan moan wail, moan moan wail, who else, you know? He went fuckin nuts, and he was a big guy. He played tight end for our madrasa, the Fighting Jihadis of Our Lady of Intifada. Timmy dressed up as the mascot. Tool. So in like one second Bang had me hanging off the ground by my jawbones and he’s screaming in my face. It got like he was in a telescope with all black around him but my last moment of consciousness was that Bang thought I bonked her so I told him I did not at all, it wasn’t me. He dropped me. He said who did? And thinking as fast as I could, I told him Timmy, hoping that he would not notice the familiar pattern of moanings and wailings coming from the toilet bowl, cause then Barack would be dead. And Bang just ran out. We never found out what happened but Timmy missed school for like a week, and later Bang left and never came back and a little while after that there was this huge coupe de etat. So I go to Barack, you fucking toppled Sukarno by the sheer power of your dick! And Barack makes this exaggerated zipping gesture, and a high-pitched zipping noise and a noise like if it flopped out on the lunch table, and he goes in a real deep voice, the ultimate sanction. Arrogant fuck.
You hear a lot of bullshit about the bloodthirsty pirates of the Molucca strait. Somebody says pirate and every fucking asshole’s gotta go aargh, matey, stumping around like with the pegleg and the parrot and shit and it makes me want to puke. It was not like that at all. This was a modern day phenomenom. Me and Barack, we started it. It just got out of hand. He ripped off a sunfish and we would get like six, eight guys on it and do this amazing bright-green Hawaiian weed and Bali Hai of course. One night Barack sunk it just to be a dick because somebody was monopolizing the massive bone he rolled. It was his shit but still. About halfway back Barack screamed like a girl cause he felt what he thought was a shark but it turned out to a dolphin that gave him a ride back to shore. We all have to swim until we’re chumming barf but he gets a fucking magical dolphin ride. It was always like that. I’d hate the fucking guy, but it was just better to be on his side than to have him persecute and torture me, which he would of got around to, believe me. But anyway, two days later we were back in operation. Somebody ripped off a big frickin motorboat. Then it got like a contest, how big a boat could you hotwire and steal. Juniors and seniors got in on it, and when somebody showed up with a torpedo boat, Barack all of a sudden was above it. When it came down to it, he was always like, would this look good on my college application essay. But by then it had a life of its own, every week it was like, look what we got from this container ship. One day it would be athletic shoes for everybody. Next day it was 100 pounds of wasabi nuts. Or lamps. They would always bring Barack stuff like he was the pirate chieftain or something. One time this Chinese burnout, Woo Hsieh, he took all shop courses, he showed us this thing he said was a top-secret nuclear device and we were like, you’re full of shit, get outa here. Barack bet him a hundred rupiahs that he couldn’t even blow up a mailbox with it. He came back with a map and said, see this atoll? He just banged it with his finger and walked away. Only time I ever saw Barack impressed. That night there was this mushroom cloud in the sky and the fucking atoll was obliterated from the world. The French took credit for it so it was like whew.