While in Honolulu recently, this happened.
Sure, it was an accident; I was just using it normally, just like it said on the box, so to speak. I’d simply grabbed the President by the neck in one hand, grabbed the bottle of beer in the other, applied a little leverage, and… SNAP!
Who could’ve foreseen it, right? I mean, no one could’ve predicted, y’know?
Unless this is what it means to be indistinguishable from the hula girl in the grass skirt at the $12 luau. Unless this is what it means to be a cheap, cheeky, and oh-so-meta imitation of yourself.
Unless Obama, who was vacationing with his family all of 2 km away when his head just happened to fall on the floor, can’t even fake relevance no matter how much theatre training he has.
Dude can’t even open a bottle, how is he supposed to run a country?ii
Or maybe when La Serenissima says we’re going to hang you and put your head on a spike outside our castle, we mean it.
Sometimes you just have to laugh…
___ ___ ___
- Because things are different now and there’s no point studying that irrelevant field of the humanities called “history” because it’s so unimportant and irrelevant in modern times.
And because a black President isn’t some kind of fall guy for the waning days of the American empire. Because he’s somehow capable of imparting change on that sorry and slowly descending mass of sludge. [↩]
- Well, such as it is. [↩]