nightstalker

"Damn. The serum didn't work."

- Barack Obama, waking up in an isolated, Interstate diner after another frightful night of feasting on the bones of children and elderly women against his very will

like the old song goes, the freaks come out at presidential electoral debates on controversial american topics

To be honest, I didn't vote for John because I was wary of all his ass-grabbing. I regret my decision, though. I was pretty tough on him. Who hasn't at least considered waggling their tongue around like a maniac and grabbing some cheek at a presidential debate?

the american dream

Rocket Racer paved the way for BET, all those ridiculous Tyler Perry films and the Obama administration. Because of his murderous pursuits of Spider-Man, the America majority grew fond of the idea that African-Americans don't always fit into cute, little, stereotypical boxes (i.e., sometimes they don powered suits of armor and ride across the sides of metropolitan buildings on rocket skateboards, firing "energy blasts"* from their wrists).


Yeah, and I guess Rerun helped, too.


*Whatever the hell those are.

take every inch

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little turned on right now. There's just something sexy about a middle-aged, black world leader stuffing a fat wiener down his throat right in front of his super buff wife at a political convention.

what i learned from grand theft auto: san andreas

"I'm tellin' you, motherfucker: Time travel is real! All you gotta do is to turn an Einstein-Rosen bridge back in on itself. By manipulating wormholes, free temporal movement is possible."

"Man, shut the fuck up. The raw power necessary to do that bullshit would be near-infinite. Any punk-ass mark knows that time travel is only viable by exploiting Einstein's special theory of relativity and traveling at near-light speeds in a space craft. Even then, time only flows forward. Can't go back, nigga."

"Both ya'll, shut up! I'm tired of this bickerin'. Damn! Neither of ya'll dumbasses are taking string theory into account. Do that and then we can talk."

that weird kid on the back row who's out of uniform

If you knew you were playing prep school basketball with the future president of the United States, what would you do? Personally, I'd gather two of my most trusted friends when the crowd had gone home after a hot, sweaty home game and we'd murder him behind the bleachers with sacrificial daggers. Dragging his body into the woods, we'd make an enormous bonfire and eat his heart while chanting prayers to the Greek god of power, Cratus. That way, I could consume Barry Obama's spirit and become president. My friends would become the vice president and postmaster general. The kid who becomes postmaster general clearly recited the prayer wrong. Cratus isn't the forgiving type.