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A Day in the Life of a Hard-Presidenting Man

Hey, Mr. President—we were wondering, do you have a plan for victory?

Ahh, I see that you do. So what exactly is that plan?

“See, heh heh, we’re gonna send some ninjas into Iraq…”

Ninjas? Really?

“Yeah, ninjas. Kung fu masters, heh heh. They’re gonna chop the shit outta them terraists.”

Mr. President, the martial arts, while beautiful, don’t seem as though they’d be an especially effective counter-strategy to guerilla warfare. Got anything else?

“Hmm…well…lemme think…”

“Okay, I got it. If the ninjas don’t do the job, we’ll just play rock-paper-scissors with the terraists for control of Iraq.”

Sounds spectacular. I believe the press has a few questions for you, sir.

David Gregory: Mr. President, this plan sounds incredibly ill-advised, sir.

“Wait a minute, now, let me finish…”

“You see, we’re going to sneak in and pretty soon it’ll be all Carl Douglas up in there—everybody will be kung fu fighting—”

David Gregory: I really, really think that’s a bad idea.


Jeff Gannon: Even I'm beginning to think you're King Dipshit.

"You, Jeff?! How can you say that?"

"After all those nights we cuddled, our bodies pressed together, our hearts beating as one?"

Jeff Gannon: Yes.

Helen Thomas: Mr. President, have you lost your fucking mind?

Helen Thomas: No, really. I’m asking. It’s a serious question.

"Garsh, presidenting is hard work."


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