I really dislike hearing people yacking about the various programs of vitamin supplements and diet schemes and exercise regimens and the benefits of grazing in a field of timothy grass like a Holstein cow or purging your system with refined gelignite every lunar period (“quack nostrums”, as the great author Robert Heinlein once put it) or whatever “live longer” fad is “trending” these days. This includes all the health-food experts and/or the vegetarian goofs and/or the vegan nuts with their fitness magazines and their workout videos and their “up at o’dark thirty to run 56.89 kilometers every morning” and indeed the entire “Live Healthy” movement with their insistent and continuous implications, insinuations and hell, just coming right out and saying it, that if you follow their particular program, their advice, their ideas, their recommendations and bow in the face of their guru-like awesomeness, that YEARS AND YEARS will be added onto YOUR LIFE.
Guaranteed. (See fine print below, sucker.)
Yeah, thanks a lot, you asshats. Oh sure, I see it now, I take the bait and live a healthy active life, eat properly, exercise, avoid caffeine, nicotine, red meat and wanton women and I get my reward down the road.
WAY down the road…WAY WAY down the road.
When? When I’m old, and probably totally deaf by that time, considering the great running start I already have on hearing-challengedness, confined to sitting hunched over in a shabby, rusting wheelchair, my legs covered with a threadbare blanket, drooling all over myself, incontinent and just generally old-age icky. And I’ll probably have halitosis and sclerosis of the blowhole by then too.
Thank you so, so much. Big…effin’…deal.
Hey, Live Healthy Nazis, here’s an idea…ready? Take your “extra years” and drive them straight northbound into the Southbound Poop Shoot Tunnel…now, if you geniuses could have given me those “years” back when I was in my Twenties, when I still had my hair, still had my hearing, hadn’t taken on the shape of a pear and could be counted on to raise a pretty good boner more often than every several millennia, I would be mucho impressed. Mucho.
But you didn’t, did you? Shitbags.
(The preceding advertisement was paid for by the DriveItNorthbound PAC, and as such absolutely represents the views and opinions of the writers/editors of the WATRUK blog.)
(RETURN TO REGULAR NEWS PROGRAMMING)
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and I assume that covers most of you, I’m Cap’n John Krissongs and you’re not. (Thank you Chevy Chase.) Welcome Aboard The R U Kidding…
It was learned earlier today by the award-winning WATRUK Investigative Team, in a shocking follow-up to the recently failed summit meeting between Supreme Leader, Marshall of the State and Chief Notary Public of whatever Commie name the North Koreans are using for their God-forsaken country these days, Kim “Rocket Man” Jong Un and His Eminence, the World Supreme Commander, Master of, er, sorry, the President of the United States, Donald “Tweety Bird” Trump, that despite all reports to the contrary, SLMSCNP Kim does in fact speak English…that’s right, radiator fans, the Big Un was able to let Dealin’ Donnie know that they could speak directly, mano y mano, without the good offices of any interpreters, advisors, assistants or any other governmental lackeys or certified butt-lickers.
The source of this incredible news, who chose to remain anonymous so as to ensure that President “Tweety Bird” doesn’t have the guy’s nuts removed, said SLMSCNP Kim slipped a note to President Trump when they shook hands (see photo left). Our source was also able to provide the WATRUK Investigative Team with a secretly recorded audio transcript of the conversation between the two super ego-freaks, pardon me, leaders, just prior to the breakdown of talks, in which it became quite clear that SLMSCNP Kim not only speaks English, but can also do the Hokey-Pokey, and that Pres Trump couldn’t find his butt with two hands, a flashlight and a road map.
The following are excerpts from this transcript, as edited by the WATRUK Investigative Team editors…the Eds have taken the bold step of using an exact transcription, which includes all profanities, inanities and bold-face lies spoken by the two men.
(After greeting each other with the obligatory handshake and phony foreign-diplomat smiles, the two leaders stood silently until all their staffs had exited the room and they were alone.)
“Yo, Donnie,” cried SLMSCNP Kim as he turned to share with his BFF the also nowadays obligatory half-handshake with the right hand, half-right shoulder embrace with the left hand that manly men share with other manly men when meeting/greeting each other.
“Shrfio[rhwwnl”, replied PTB, his response muffled by the fact that Kim had his hand on the back of Trump’s head, pushing PTB’s face into his shoulder and garbling the message better than Trump himself usually does.
“Wassup, “Hung”? exclaimed the American Pres, when he was finally released from the throes of international “bro”therly love. “How you doin’, man?”
“I am totally chillin’, dude, totally. Welcome to Hanoi, Donnie…too bad we can’t sneak in a little side-trip up to Hong Kong, that place rocks. There’s a shortage of men in the Kong and all you have to do to get a broad there is grab’em by the pussy.” Kim looked at Trump with raised eyebrows.
“Yeah”, says PTB, “I’ve done that. Works great, just don’t say anything about it out loud or the press there in North Dakota will crucify you.”
“That’s North Korea, shitwad. Anyway, Donnie, think…what press?”
“Oh, yeah, forgot that…how the fuck did you get rid of that bullshit 1st Amendment, free speech crap, huh? Man, I wish I could get the Department of Commerce or the C.I.A. to overturn that shit.”
“You?” says Kim, poking the rotund American President in his ample gut, “You couldn’t turnover an apple with Betty Crocker’s help. Shit, your Congress won’t even give you money to build a crummy wall. If you had any cajones, you’d order your generals to march into the Capital one day with a division of troops and take the money you need. You’re a pussy.”
“Yeah? Well, if you’re such hot stuff, how come you live in a shithole country like North Dakota? Nothin’ there but hills and swamps and nuclear weapons facilities.” Trump smirked at the idea.
“Hey, Nimrod, it’s North KOREA…not Dakota, you flamer.”
“Korea, Dakota, what’s the diff? Shitholes. Hey, did you bring any smoke?” Trump asked his Korean counterpart excitedly.
SLMSNCP Kim’s brow furrowed. “I thought it was your turn to bring some.” When he saw Trump’s jaw drop, he burst into laughter at the sight of the crestfallen President.
“Ha, you flamer, got you.” Kim reached into his Chairman Mao jacket and pulled out a baggie of pot. “Hey, no shit, this stuff is some righteous weed, buddy. I got it from a guy I know, supplies Putin with his shit.”
Trump broke into a huge smile. “Let’s get fucked up and call Putin,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
Kim laughed as he packed some of the primo buds into his collapsible bong. “That’s a great idea. That fucker still owes me a hundred thousand bucks from our last poker game.” He handed a lighter and the little glass pipe to Trump, who took it, sparked it up and inhaled a ginormous hit of Commie Russian cannabis. Holding in his breath and the smoke, he handed the pipe and lighter back to Kim.
Kim smiled to himself as he fired up the bowl again, taking in a good-sized lungful of pot, just as PTB was explosively exhaling what he had been holding in. “Dollars?” said Trump, in between coughs, “you guys play for dollars? You don’t even play for rubies or gerbils, or you know, whatta’ you guys call your money there in North West, uh, you know, wongs or wangs or some shit? You couldn’t even play for your national currencies? That’s cold.”
“It’s the won, dipstick”, Kim said as he also exhaled a roomful of used pot smoke. He and PTB handed the pipe back and forth a couple more times.
“Anyway,” he continued, “you know what the exchange rate won to dollars is? Are you kidding me? No way I’m playing for that shit. And take rubles from Putin, are you nuts? They’d probably be counterfeit, that crook.”
“Yeah, good point. Whoa, I am seriously baked. That’s good shit, man, wow.” Trump looked around the conference room one way and then back again the other, encompassing the entire room. “I wonder if they have a McDonald’s here in Hanoi? I would kill for a half a dozen Big Macs.”
(RETURN TO REGULAR NEWS PROGRAMMING)
This was only part one of the WATRUK Investigative Team’s exclusive story on this shocking development that apparently led to the recent collapse of the summit between North Korea and America. The rest of the transcript will be included in next week’s post right here on the WATRUK blog.
For all of us here at Welcome Aboard The R U Kidding, we wish you,
Love and a long life,
(FADE TO BLACK)