Tuesday, 18 October 2011

A MidAutumn Night's Dream

Last night I dreamt Barack Obama was dead.

Now those who know me are aware that I am no fan of Herr Obama, even though I'm only three degrees of separation from him (his Kenyan cousin Felix Mboya, son of his infamous illegal-immigrant aunt Zeituni Onyango, is a very old friend of mine from college days). In fact, those who know me are aware that I think, along with Noam Chomsky, that the Bush was less evil than Obama, if anything (and, by the way, those of you who like to call me an Obamatron only make me laugh). So a dream about Obama dying wasn't exactly a nightmare for me.

But how, exactly, did the Barack shuffle off this mortal coil? Did Al Qaeda, or any of the other Evildoing haters of Freedom, finally wipe him out of existence? Did part or all of the subjects of his Evil Empire finally rise up in anger and tear him limb from limb? Did Mother Nature take a merciful hand with a tornado or a flash flood?


Do you remember that bit in The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy where

During a recitation by their poet master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem "Ode To A Small Lump Of Green Putty I Found In My Armpit One Midsummer Morning " ... his own major intestine--in a desperate attempt to save life kind itself--leapt straight up through his neck and throttled his brain.

Well, our Barack, protected by an armada of drones flying overhead, was speechifying on the campaign trail of how much Change he'd brought, and how much more Change he'd bring if he was voted in again, when his microphone, unable to stand any more of this, electrocuted him.

The audience gave it a standing ovation.

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