Vote for me, The Douche

Paul Ryan

When I was a small boy, the other children would tease me. They would often call me a crybaby. I don’t know why.

Well, actually I do know why. It was because I cried a lot. A tremendous amount, actually. Pretty much all the time. If I struck out in little league baseball - which was at least three times per game on average - I’d start crying. Sometimes a family member would eat the last piece of toast at breakfast, and I’d have to wait for my mom to make more toast, so I’d cry about that. I once cried because I didn’t receive the board game “Mouse Trap” for my birthday. Which is downright ridiculous, because that game was a confusing mess of bullshit.

I was a passionate boy. Passionate for life. Passionate for love. PASSIONATE FOR MOUSE TRAP. I followed my heart, and sometimes my heart was too big for others.

Jesus Christ, I just re-read that. Somebody punch me in the face. In hindsight, it seems like the bullies had a pretty solid case. I was, for all purposes, a tremendous pussy as a child. I mean, bullying usually isn’t a good thing, but wasn’t I kinda asking for it? Those bullies were actually quite observant. They were probably too easy on me. I’d likely be a much better person right now if one of them had beaten the shit out of me. Instead, I’m in Los Angeles, writing this meager column of fart jokes at an Arby’s restaurant. How sad.

Anyway, where was I going with this? Ah, yes. I remember now. As you’ve probably heard, I’m going to be Vice President of the United States soon. So to those bullies who were, in hindsight, not that rude to me at all, I just wanted to say FUC& YOU. *UCK YOU AND GOOD DAY. Once I’m Vice President, I will murder your children while they’re on the toilet, which is the most humiliating type of murder.
All right, let’s take a step back. Statements like “I’m going to murder your children on the toilet” probably won’t help the campaign much, so let’s compromise. I won’t KILL your children. I’ll just hurt them, like maybe break their arm or drop them on their head from a height which I personally deem to be amusing. Or maybe I’ll just drown them a little. Just a bit. Not enough to be a jerk about it, just enough to make a point. A point which I will figure out the purpose of later.

Regardless, please remember to vote for me in November. I look forward to your enthusiastic support.

I suppose you want some reasons to vote for me, other than my unreasonable attractiveness. Well, for one thing, I smell incredible. Compared to me, Mitt Romney’s handsome sons smell like a toilet factory. I use coconut-flavored Herbal Essences to shampoo both my head and my groin. I lather my body with whichever brand of body wash seems the least gay. Suave or Prell, perhaps. I also use aftershave made by A Sponsor Yet to be Determined.

I also have many skills and knowledge, mainly involving video games, how best to open one’s throat for alcohol and the states in which pet hedgehogs are illegal. I once bought nine pounds of fireworks. That has to be worth a few votes. I once said hi to Jason Segel as he sat on the back of a golf cart and smoked a cigarette. He was not friendly. At all. I once saw Anne Hathaway nude in a film, on DVD, and then replayed that scene from the DVD on my laptop so I could take a screenshot and later masturbate to it.

What will I do as Vice President, other than attacking the very children that spawned from your loins? Well I don’t know much about the whole legislative process, but television has taught me that it will basically involve a lot of drinking whilst gazing handsomely into the distance. Also, I hope to be banging Barack Obama’s wife a lot.

What? Budget balancing? Really? I’m known for that? I’ve got like $12,000 in credit card debt. Also, I don’t own a car. Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t think you should take financial advice from someone who’s forced to ride the bus. Besides, who cares about national debt? Just let our kids pay it off after we’re dead.

Oh please. Don’t pretend like you don’t hate every generation younger than you. Their music, their laid back nature. Their sassy, disrespectful commentary about your pleated slacks. Also, the fact that the girls in every new generation seem to be way sluttier than the girls from yours, making you feel like you missed out.

C’mon guys. Let’s pass our debt to tiny children. We’ll live like kings while they eat farts for breakfast.

Look, just vote for me this November. I’ll do all sorts of shitty stuff that helps only us, and you can pretend to be mad about it. Vote for me and the other guy, the Mormon one. Or is it the black one? I don’t know. I don’t really follow politics. Whichever one I’m with, vote for us. We’re total douchebags. We promise.