Ch. 11, President of the World

The Princes of Light

Chuck Bollocks’ destiny was to become God’s Puppet President of the United States of the World, and as such he would, on God’s behalf, decide everything for everyone. And this was a good and extremely good, because everyone was sick of making bad decisions and always blaming themselves. The democratic world was especially sick of voting for the wrong candidates, sick of the whole pointlessly painful political process and especially sick of watching the ass & elephant circus devour their patience and wealth. A single, unelected, infallible and godlike imperator-dictator would solve all their problems and be much more affordable than any democratic government.

So, on the day before Christmas, in the year xxx, billions of Amerikans signed a petition telling President Angel and his cast of one million lesser angels to leave their government posts and let Chuck Bollocks single-handedly run the world.

When President Angel heard the news he raged in bed, “Damn traitors and numbskulls! Under my leadership, the economy has thrived! Thanks to me, the military is helping the medical industry and now the whole disease-fighting industry is thriving! And who do they think created universal healthcare? Yesterday we filled the clouds with chemo so that everyone could be cured, and this year we mixed the nation’s water supplies with drugs so that no one forgets to take their meds! So, why the Hell do they want Chuck Bollocks? That clown will lead this country to eternal shame! Penelope, why aren’t you nodding?”

His wife grabbed her pillow and violently beat the president until feathers flew in all directions. When her pillow was in shreds, she cried, “I love Chuck Bollocks! I want him to be my president!”

Angel figured she wasn’t taking her medicine. He was deeply disappointed, but nothing could make him lose hope and stop fighting for the pharmaceutical industry and the other corporate pillars of America. The country needed his skill and prowess in recruiting more taxpayers for battle, in conquering more markets, in leading the fight against recessions and depressions, and, of course, in providing those elusive economic orgasms!

Since Angel would never voluntarily step down from power, the recruited the services of the Illuminati. They knew how to take care of business. One night, they transformed into fireflies, their true forms, and flew to the White House. Alighting on the front steps, they sang their secret code, “Trick or Treat, Give Me Someone Good to Cheat!”

First Lady Penelope flung open a second floor window and cried, “HELP! HELP! FIRE! FIRE!”

The luminous ones were dwarfish, but by climbing onto one another’s shoulder’s they were able to reach the second floor and pull each other up. Then they examined the room and, finding her in no immediate danger of anything, looked at her with cocked heads, like confused puppies.

“Well, I’m sorry I shouted ‘Fire’ because I need a little fire—especially if you have none to offer!” the First Lady blathered, pouting and playing with her lingerie.

The diminutive dignitaries shook their befuddled heads while the First Lady lifted the bedsheet and revealed her husband, as unconscious as the bottle of liquor in his mouth.

“He’s been doing this for years! So, who wants to do the honor?” she inquired, batting her eyelashes and snapping a strap to clarify her message. Of course, the good men had faithful [or so they thought] wives at home, but Penelope bewitched them with everything she said and did, and like a panther she pounced on them with her lips and kissed each man and told each one in turn, “You can come on Thursdays. You can come one Fridays. You come on Saturdays. You on Sundays. Mondays. And, last but not least, you can do me on Tuesdays.”

The luminous ones hadn’t a clue what she was talking about, but being afraid to ask, they instead asked, “What about Wednesdays? Have you reserved them for your husband?”

Penelope cackled wickedly, “No, Wednesdays are reserved for someone even greater than yourselves. He is pure as the driven snow, so we never really have sex. Not real sex, if you know what I mean. Honestly, I think he only likes my dimpled ass. Oh dear, I’m afraid I revealed too much of my –”

“SHIT!” shouted a guest. As one body, everyone turned to see President Angel lurching towards them with his rifle aimed above their heads. He was morbidly drunk, so when he started shooting he hit everything except his targets, and when his ammo was spent, he threw his weapon under the bed, laughed, fell face first on his pillow, hiccupped and grumpily greeted the gentlemen through his pillow: “Nice costumes, kiddies. I hope Penelope gave you some candy.”

“Mister President, we swear we did not sleep with her.”

“That’s disappointing. Now she won’t let me sleep.”

“Mister President, if we may address a matter of far greater importance. God sent us here to inform you that Chuck Bollocks will be the next president.”

The president suffered a convulsive laughing fit just as Chuck Bollocks danced into the room and asked what joke he’d missed.

“These wiseacres,” the president bitterly grumbled, “just informed me that you’re the next president of the United States of the World! Never! I’ll never let go of the reins of power!”

The Illuminate were not amused. “Mister President,” they began, speaking as one, “if you do not resign from office, the CIA will condemn to a land of ice where you will slave sewing and un-sewing your woolen underwear in obscurity!”


Apparently, President Angel had heard stories about Canada and the monsters that inhabited its icy realm. The mere thought of living there was Hell. He bawled his eyes out before blathering, “It’s not fair! What can he do that I can’t do twice as good?”

“Tell him!” screeched his nasty wife.

“Ahem,” Chuck began to prevent a potentially ugly scene, “I have plenty of rare talents. For one thing, with my influence in Heaven, I can reverse decades of ruin your administration has brought upon our one-great country. I’ll make Amerika great again! I’ll bring all our lost natural resources back! Our oil wells and mines will be full again, our oceans and rivers will teem with fish again, our skies will teem with birds again, our forests will tower with giants again, and our banks will flow with God’s luv!”

The Illuminati wet themselves with glee, but President Angel wasn’t impressed. He asked his rival where the bathroom was and peed in his pajamas because Chuck was busy advertising himself: “Those are some of the things I will do for you. And for the people I will sing and dance and launch a public transportation system powered by hurricanes, tornados, typhoons and other natural forces. Imagine how much money we could make from all those free resources!”

The Illuminati wet themselves again while the First Lady masturbated and Angel tried to eat his pillow. Undisturbed by these disturbing behaviors, Chuck calmly continued making promises to the mysterious visitors, “And if the people do not like me, I’ll sell them the White House and privatize the entire government for profit to the public! Let them rule themselves! We’ll make and save thrillions!”

The thought of so such a bounty falling into their hands inflamed their souls with greed. They drooled on themselves and did not see the First Lady casting an evil spell on the man she wanted for herself, the man destined to fix the economy and save the world!


The Mental Candidate

In the morning, President Angel miraculously obeyed God’s command to prepare Chuck for responsibility and glory. After teaching him how to talk from his ass, he had a heart-to-heart talk with him: “Chuck, I don’t want to scare you off, but I have to be honest with you. This job sucks. No, really, it does! During my twenty years as president, I haven’t slept a wink. Conscience forbade it! So long as there’s one child crying for love or one citizen who’s hungry, sick, suffering or otherwise unhappy, my soul cries out with them, and I feel personally responsible. So say good bye to sleep. In fact, you can say goodbye to every pleasure and every moment of leisure. And say goodbye to your health, too. The stress of being president will give you hives, aneurisms, cancer, and paralysis.”

“Luckily, no headaches?” Chuck asked, hopefully.

“Forget headaches! You’ll have brain explosions!”

That sounded like too much excitement. Chuck lost his enthusiasm and, that evening, he accepted the First Lady’s invitation to elope. That night, they thought they were sailing to Mexico when in fact their captain, a CIA agent, took them deep into the heart of the wild world of snow and ice, into Canada!

A week later, when President Angel noticed that his wife was absent, he alerted the FBI (the Federal Bunch of Idiots), and they organized teams of trained rabbits, dogs and lots of caribou. On the shores of Hudson’s Bay, they found a suspicious pair of footprints in deep snow and followed them to Canada’s only hotel. The door open, or missing, and just inside they found the lovers keeping warm around a makeshift fire. The First Lady seemed to think this was romantic, so when the first FBI officer appeared, she tried to put the ‘Freeze’ spell on him.

“Mr Chuck Bollocks?” the officer asked.

“Who the Hell are you?”

“Please, you might be in Canada, but you can still be polite. Mr Bollocks?”

“Never heard of him. Hey, do me a favor and take a hike, okay?”

The officer noticed Chuck’s shoes.

“Mister Bollocks, I know it’s you. You’re the only grown man I know who can’t tie his own shoes.”

Chuck blushed crimson.

“Sir, the president sent for you and Penelope. Your destiny cannot be delayed. You are scheduled to become president of the world.”

Chuck threw his shoes into the fire and bitterly protested, “My destiny! My destiny! Well, I don’t want it! Would you want all that power and responsibility? Think about it! You’d abuse all that power, wouldn’t you? You’d find ways to cheat the public, frolic with whores, screw everyone—and not just the women—right? Wouldn’t all that power turn you into a monster?”

“Sir, what if that’s what we secretly desire?”

Sure, but what if I’m a huge disappointment?” Chuck wailed. Penelope petted his head. “What if I lead Amerika and the global economy to an awful pile of turds? Have you ever thought of that?

“No I haven’t, at least not until now. Sir, I admit it, the global economy is a terrifying thing that does not always respond as presidents intend. But don’t underestimate your own powers, and please don’t worry, people really don’t expect much anymore.”

Chuck laughed, “That’s good to know.”

“But the world is expecting something new. They’re tired of the old political order. Everyone is deadly bored of the status quo.”

“That’s true,” the Second Lady agreed in a tone meant to cheer Chuck up. “Everyone I know is looking forward to being ruled by the world’s first mentally disturbed president.”

“Really?” asked Chuck.

“Yes!” replied the FBI agent and the First Lady.

And so it happened. Chuck agreed to fulfill his destiny and follow God’s plan to become his “puppy,” which is code for Puppet President of the United Peoples of Planet Earth!


The Election

To ensure that a bozo did not become president of the world, candidates had to pass a four-part test that Chuck Bollocks passed with stars and butterflies. I’ve faithfully reproduced his four victories below:

1. The Interview

The Moderator: Tonight we will give Mr C. Bollocks an opportunity to show us that he really has the luv we need.

Mr C. Bollocks interrupts: Screw luv! This year I’m gonna give the world nothing but pure, sparkling hope!

The Moderator: Please don’t speak out of turn. It’s rude. Ladies and gentlemen, we are also joined by the current president of Amerika, Walt Disney. Gentlemen, if you are ready, let us begin on the subject of unemployment. How would you help lazy, unemployed foreigners work so that Amerika won’t have to continue carrying the global economy on its shoulders?

Mr C. Bollocks farts and starts: I’ve never heard so much nonsense! Progress should mean less work, not more work! So, mark my words, I’m gonna be the first president to fight employment! Maybe I’ll genetically engineer trees that grow money!!!

President Angel: Chuck, are you on drugs?

Mr C. Bollocks: Hahahaha! My imagination has only begun to astound you. Listen to what else I’ll do as the most fiscally responsible president of the world: to save money, I’ll privatize politics! I’ll outsource every government service to India! And I’ll send criminals to Hell because Satan never charges a cent. Next, I’ll make world peace by discontinuing the supply of uniforms to the military and by moving every national border around so much no one will know where they live!

The Moderator: Mr Bollocks, are you on drugs?

Mr C. Bollocks: If God is a drug, then I am on drugs! He jumps out of his chair and runs around the stage in slow motion, somehow, miraculously, expelling a fart with each step.

President Angel: Excuse me, but you do know the world is watching this, don’t you?

Mr C. Bollocks waves to the world: I love you! I love you all!

The Moderator: Mr Bollocks, are you gay?

Mr C. Bollocks: Talk to me after the show. I am a pretty banana tree struggling to produce phallic fruit and crying for a little fertilizer, if you know what I mean.

The Moderator stares in amazement and cries: I’m astounded! How did you learn so much about gardening?

2. The Heart Test

Thousands of years of hardship had taught the world to dream of presidents who care about life, so Washington’s scientists devised a test that could measure a politician’s capacity for sympathy. The test required participants to read a very sad novel about how Amerikan civilization would be flushed down the proverbial toilet in the near future. If the reader wept, the volume of tears was measured and their quality was analyzed.

Mr C. Bollocks struggled with the first sentence and was completely convulsed with grief by the time he reached the end of the first page. Therefore the world rightly felt assured that Chuck Bollocks was the leader it deserved.

3. The Intelligent Test

Many centuries ago, some cynical Amerikan citizens lost patience with the boring idiots working in their political circuses, so they created a third test to check whether aspiring political clowns were intelligent enough to entertain them.  A copy of the test administered to Mr C. Bollocks is reproduced for your amusement below.



USW Presidential Candidate Test©



Name: Chuk BuLLoks


Fart in the boxes beside the correct answers.


How would you create world peace?


q Kill everyone.

q Make fruit-watching mandatory.

q Give all my power to the green-thumbed clown.

q Turn weapons into musical instruments.


How would you balance the budget?


q Abolish numbers.

q Make cerebral, not physical or digital money.

q Make everything free.

q On a set of scales on my nose.


Where is the capital of the world?


q Where It Belongs, U.S.W.

q On most good world maps.

q At the start of a sentence.

q On the center of the surface of a sphere.


What is the right attitude towards failure?


q My enemy’s failure is my success.

q Keep doing the same thing until you succeed.

q Take pride in the accomplishment.

q Change the definition of the word.


Your mark:          0/7



Despite having some trouble understanding the questions and answers, Mr C. Bollocks received divine guidance and received a perfect score.

4. The Speech

Every good politician must give lip service to the public, therefore Mr C. Bollocks did not disappoint. He delivered an excellent oral presentation in fulfilment of the fourth and final test. It was heard by an intoxicated crowd of 90,000,000 assembled in the National Mall. I think you’ll agree it’s the best speech ever spoken in God’s English. It’s full of all that empathy, imagination, passion, vision and other shit that voters go for. So brace yourself, because here we go:

“I have a dream, a wonderful dreamy dream in which hearts will start beating in Washington, on Wall Street and in Hollywood! I have a dream that one day we will live in a Disney-planet! To achieve this goal, my Washington will make sweet luv to every Amerikan, my Amerika will make sweet luv to the whole world and my world will make luv to the whole universe!”

The crowd roars with laughter and cheers. He farts loudly but still radiates confidence as he continues.

“Rabbits, are you ready to be luved by a real president whose luv knows no limits?”

The crowd makes rabbitty noises and twitches many noses.

“My luv is a revolutionary power! But do not be afraid! I will only drop luv bombs on those who need them, and if there’s widespread demand for it, I will irradiated my pure luv on everyone! As your president, I will make you feel luved again, but only—I stress only­­—if that is your wish.”

An incredible explosion of laughter and demands for more.

“My efforts to create world peace will not cease until everyone rests in peace!”

A few chuckles and calls for explanations.

“Instead of guns we shall be issued magic bananas, and instead of laws we shall have luv songs!”

The crowd cheers until he farts mightily.

“And, with your consent, as your supreme luver, I’ll introduce the Gross Domestic Luv Index and make luv the one and only world religion!”


“And I will do even more amazing things! For I have a dream, a green economy dream in which everyone lives in treehouses on blueberry fields under skies colored with vertical green and blue stripes. And in my dream our Mother Earth does not destroy our homes with earthquakes, floods, fires, landslides and termites. In my dream our mother loves us again!”

Someone rightly shouts that he’s crazy.

“Genius always looks crazy to those who are not geniuses. Every day I thank God for making me seem crazy, because psychologists are good friends to have.”

Didn’t your family live in an insane asylum?”

“My home was as holy as a church, my mother kicked ass, my father thought he was a butterfly and my sister taught me everything I need to know about my ding-a-ling and my belly-bonger.”

Snickers and giggles and cries for a demonstration.

“You don’t believe me? Hook me up to a lie detecting machine! I have nothing to hide! My life is an open book. Look, I come to you wearing transparent pants!”

Unanimous laughter.

“Finally, let me just warn all of you that if you don’t vote for me today, God will personally condemn you all to Mexico, where you will be forced to marry godless apes and monkeys and the birds will laugh at you.”

Applause. Calls for an encore are politely rewarded with a monstrous string of farts that sends Mr C. Bollocks flying out of the spotlight.




Although millions of other candidates ran for the office of the President of the United States of the World, most fell mysteriously ill and, when it was clear that Chuck had aced his tests, the remaining candidates issued this humble apology:

“Having seen Mr Bollocks shine, we hereby withdraw from the presidential race. Mr Bollocks is obviously the candidate best qualified to fulfill God’s business plan for the world. For this reason, we humbly withdraw from the presidential race.”


A New Dark Ages Begins

Shortly before he was crowned leader of the first multi-national world, I made Chuck promise not to keep any of his crazy promises, but my little puppet mutinied! Damn his mother! She persuaded him to be “a good husband of the world,” a line teeming with innuendo that it inspired him to fire every man in every government office and then, to make matters a thousand times worse, he married 10,000 poor colored women and told them to “take care of business”!

It was a colossal scandal, but the liberal press also betrayed Me and pretended that this exhibition of insanity was progressive and praiseworthy!

Something had to be done! No multi-national country can be ruled by 10,000 presidents simultaneously, especially not 10,000 female presidents. I commanded the real president to retract his decision and I threatened to kill him if he didn’t, but somehow he didn’t believe Me. Who would he believe? Women! I knew their evil influence over Chuck was growing by the day, so I employed a few as my messengers.

I began with his dead grandmother, Nagitha. She found him in the cemetery crying over the grave of someone whose name was the same as that of his grandfather, the great ivory hunter. Nagitha’s body had deteriorated somewhat, and she could just gasp out a few sentences, but Chuck recognized her, ran to hug her but failed because the stench of her sins was so great.

“Ugh, grandma, shouldn’t you be resting underground?”

“I wish I were, but your damn God found a job that I just had to do!”

“Is grandpa still angry with you for making me commit so many sins?”

“Listen, Adam, or whoever you are, I’m not here to relive my sordid past. I’m here to scold you for giving the presidency away to those colored devils. Do you want to be swallowed up by the Big Bottomless Bunny Hole?”

“Why not? I’m sure God will save me one more time.”

She squinted through a pusy eye, “Boy, are you mentally challenged?”

“Of course! Life is mentally challenging, so I’m mentally challenged!”

The old hag slapped her thigh and laughed, “That’s a good one! But you can thank your mother for your mental condition. She darkened the family blood by letting that damned hoodlum inject his seed into her. You’re just lucky that mental disabilities are trendy among young folk.”

“Grandma, where is grandpa?”

“Which grandpa?”

“I have more than one?”

“Your childhood was full of grandpas and great-grandpas, and I wouldn’t have traded any one of them for God, for they were all good –”

Her morbid thought was interrupted as crows and vultures pecked at her head and flew off with her nose and ears.

Nagitha had failed Me, but I wasn’t done with Chuck. This time I roused Chuck’s wives against him. I brushed up on my knowledge of the feminist evil and talked to three of the president’s wives about sexism and exploitation. After many such talks, they were so angry that they accused Chuck of exploiting them and of being too damned lazy and unappreciative.

In his own defense, Chuck replied, “But, sweethearts, you’re doing much better work than I could ever do. I love it. You’re doing a marvelous job managing the world.”

“Do you really think so?” they asked, flattered.

“Absolutely! I adore how you made the army wear pink uniforms and bows, and I love how all the ambulances now have sirens that sing, ‘Be not afraid! We bring hugs and other emergency love services!’”

“Thank you! You’re the first person to appreciate our hard work.” Pleased out of their minds, the president’s bimbos went back to Capitol Hill singing in the rain, never to criticize their husband again.

In desperation, I resorted to using one of Chuck’s prettier aunts. She was happy to play along and when she next saw him she said, “You know God is going to cut your balls off for not fulfilling your destiny.”

“Aunt Dorothy, you don’t even believe in God.”

She laughed and said, “But I believe in weddings! Why didn’t you invite me to your grand wedding?”

“I didn’t have one,” he said. “I just signed some papers and then burned them like the native peoples used to do.”

“Oh my God! Then, you’re living in sin?”

“Nonsense! Did King Solomon bankrupt his kingdom by having weddings for his one thousand wives? I don’t think so.”

“Good thinking, Chuck Bollocks! You’re the most economical president we ever had!” said his useless aunt. Of course, I expected more from her, and she was cute, but she too was struck by a meteor.

The following day, while the lazy, good-for-nothing president has his afternoon siesta in a wicker basket, his nap was interrupted by someone from his teenagehood.

“Chuck, wake up! Remember me, Jenny Sidney?”

“Huh? Jenny? Jenny Sidney? I can’t believe it. All this time and you didn’t tell me? You changed your name and married Walter?”

“Are you angry? I know we promised long ago to marry once you got a good job. I’ll be the best wife ever.”

“Jenny, I’m not angry, but why didn’t you tell me this earlier? Why now? Now, I’m already married!”

What? You are?

“Don’t you watch the news? I’m a polygamist. I married … uhm, ten women and I was feeling generous and gave them the presidency for a wedding gift.”

Penelope stood, dazed by the sheer idiocy of these words.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Sorry? You should have yourself thrown into prison!”

“I can’t. My wives just passed a law legalizing polygamy and prohibiting monogamy.”

She was speechless.

Chuck continued, “According to their anti-monopoly legislation, no woman may monopolize any man, and no man any woman. So, monogamous marriages are forbidden.”

She cursed God, swore never to work for him again, and stomped off determined to have revenge sex with Satan. Moments later, a flaming meteor sent her hurtling into the next world.

Meanwhile, back at the Wife House, the president’s nightmare continued with his mother shouting, “If you don’t do your job and take better care of your colored wives, you’ll be forever remembered as a masturbating, sexist-racist pig!”

Chuck woke, took the bowl of water from under the bed and washed his hands over and over while his fetid brain couldn’t stop imagining his lonely wives, languishing in their beds and cursing the day they married him. While these troubling images played through his brain, he muttered under his breath, “It’s not true! I’m not a sexist-racist pig! I offered to give my hand in marriage to many white women, but they always prefer colored men!”

“Prove it!” said a maid who had overhead him while cleaning after him. “Prove it!”

The president was all for equal opportunity, so he married her that same day. However, the crafty Satan ensured that their marriage would never be consummated, for as they returned from the wedding, the bride saw a brilliant light flying towards her. Chuck assured her that it was an angel, so his faith protected him, but she was faithless and ran. Many days later, Mexican authorities found her blackened remains and warned God-fearing Amerikans to stay north of the border. That was good advice, but this is even better advice: Beware of women!

The Unlawful Laws

The 10,000 women who seduced Chuck into making them de facto presidents of the world took full advantage of their evil deed and created the most abominable constitution and bill of rights the world has ever seen. A world of angry men protested, so the vile women slept with them and whispered in their ears that President C. Bollocks had authorized every impious and mentally deranged word. Then the fools actually believed them!

The Abominable Constitution

 To build a new world order founded on love, everyone should love life and make life flourish, and everyone should love one another directly, and do nothing but the works of love, and do all of love’s works with bare hands and bare bodies and not with guns, promises, money or other tools of distance and coldness.

  • Any man who does not know how to love should go to one of Satan’s colleges of love.
  • No man should waste his time trying keep a woman happy, but with a dozen male friends he might have a chance.
  • Babies inspire love and teach us to be gentle, so share them with everyone, your men especially.
  • Some men, like some animals and plants, are not good for us and cannot be loved because they insist on harming us, so fuck them.
  • Love neighbors and strangers, but not more than they consent to.
  • Everyone shall pay taxes and bills through acts of love, and if they can’t, they can pay with urine and stool deposits.
  • Shit upon and laugh at everything you love, for laughing is healthy.
  • Discover the beautiful logic behind the Devil’s music and pictures, and Hell will be Heaven to you.  

The Bill of Rights 

  • No other bills will be written but ones that read Payment Due to the Spirit of Mamma.

The Devil Economizes the Justice System

Next, the president’s 10,000 psychopathic wives ruined Amerika’s once amazing justice system. Prior to the creation of a one-world government, Amerikan-style justice was practiced throughout the civilized world and was based on God’s eye-for-an-eye wisdom. This meant that murderers were murdered, robbers were robbed, rapists were raped, drug peddlers were peddled or paddled, and non-believers were not believed, and so on. It was a mathematical-logical system, but defendants ruined it by always complaining about details. In one case, a man charged with pooping on the White House argued that by law the president must poop exactly the same amount on his house, but the president no longer had such productive bowels. So, after years of legal wrangling the defendant agreed that the president’s sister could do the job, but Bitch also refused to do her lawful duty by claiming that her religion forbade women from pooping, especially on rooftops, so the case dragged on.

Exactly how did those 10,000 presidential impostors destroy the very profitable justice industry? Easy! They declared every woman on Earth a Supreme Judge and Jury and declared every man equally guilty of everything. Next, in one sweeping judgement, they sentenced every man to an indefinite stay at one of Satan’s mental health scam resorts known as Satan’s Gardens of Love. As you can see, this insane justice system eliminated courts, prisons, and police forces, which obviously saved the government a lot of money, but—more importantly—this was a crime against the economy, for by eliminating the justice system they eliminated the illusion that governments maintain peace and, worst of all, they eliminated an excellent excuse for collecting taxes and making profits!!!

Oh, but abolishing the justice system wasn’t their only assault on the economy. Chuck’s 10,000 devils also banned luv and made love the world currency! According to their ridiculous laws, any act of love was acceptable payment for anything. This was so offensive that I vomited meteors and the angels fled Heaven.

Next, Satan’s brood of tit-lugging devils passed a law declaring that no one owns any land but the land touching their feet. This, in theory at least, made Me landless!

Years later, those menstruating abominations embezzled funds intended for White House renovations and spent it on building the president an off-grid, hand-crafted retirement home in Guantanamo. They even forced him to stay there on a permanent vacation after they made a State of the Union address announcing that the country had made so much progress that the president was no longer needed. When good Amerikan men demanded that their president be given his job back, a Ms Catharin Slanderbitch issued this public statement on behalf of her fellow witches: “Good people of Amerika, you know as well as we do that the sons of God are pure spirits who do not work. Jesus never planted a seed or bent his back, Muhammad never harvested a single date, and Shiva never changed diapers or built a house. Why, then, do you expect your president to work? Have you no shame? Please, show a little respect for a man who has served you for many decades as your lord, messiah, saint, ambassador, governor and finally as an awful PUSSIE.”



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