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PolliGaf 2012 |OT5| Big Bird, Binders, Bayonets, Bad News and Benghazi
- Thread starter RustyNails
- Start date
- Status
ClovingWestbrook
Banned
Are you making it?
Ignatz Mouse
Banned
I'm trying to find the Repo Man clip where Bud goes on about the homeless people, finding out how much they owe and making them pay. I think it every time this comes up.
Much gratitude if anyone can find it online.
CHEEZMO
Obsidian fan
|OT6| Silver is the new gold
ErasureAcer
Banned
Like the 1,000 years of darkness one that was mentioned earlier.
Mercury Fred
Banned
Considering all the excitement and anticipation for tomorrow, I thought I'd follow up my Hillary & Michelle Obama fanfic with this new entry (with different characters, but taking place in the same universe.)
Enjoy!
----------------
"Just one more day and the campaign's over, the President thought to himself. "I'll have a chance to do the job I always wanted to do. In some ways these first four years have felt like a trial period. In more ways than one. We've done some good work, but I can't help feeling Michelle drifting away more each day. Or is it me who's drifting? We never talk about--"
Just then, a knock raps against the ornate doors of the Waldorf Astoria hotel room.
Two secret service men step in and part to allow a bus boy carry in a domed dish.
As the President watches the boy-- 25, an oarsman's build, dewy lips and a pompadour the color of wild owls-- his eyes drift to the tight, ice cream curves of the boys ass and the ample package nestled tightly in front.
"Mr. President? Sir?" The boy scans the President's eyes for recognition, but the former community organizer appears lost in a day dream.
"Yup, yes. I, you can just leave that right there, son."
Obama watches the secret service men usher the bus boy out. Did one of them cast a quick, knowing glance in his direction as he exited?
"It's just nerves," the President tells himself as he opens the dome to reveal a huge bacon cheeseburger and fries. Just the kind of meal Michelle would deny him. Always denying him what he needs.
The President reaches into his briefcase, opens a secret compartment and pulls out his iPhone, his secret line that no one, not his family, not his friends, not Axelrod knows. As he bites into the juicy burger with one hand, he navigates to an app, nestled away on the last screen. Its orange yellow icon and etched line drawing face stare back at him. He taps it. Grindr.
As Barack devours the thick, salty fries by the handful, he scrolls through all of the other profiles, a sea of muscled torsos, smirking young twinks, and it, his own profile-- a shot of himself playing hoops, shirtless, cropped so that the head can't be seen. His profile name, alOha glows in the upper right hand corner.
"I can't be doing this," he thinks. "What if someone finds me. What if someone blackmails me?" Just then, the digital gurgle of a notification beeps in. Someone's messaged him.
Obama looks at the screen to see who it is and there's the profile pic for hungsthrnstud. A thick, not unmuscled torso, white, pinkish even covered with a fan of white chest hair is staring back at him. He opens the message:
"sup"
Followed by the image of the same torso cropped much lower to show an erect penis, so disproportionately large that it would be more suited to a donkey.
The President reaches to turn off the phone, but a deep seated yearning, a stirring he can feel from the core of his being stops him. Before he knows it, he's texting back.
"sup"
His palms begin to sweat as another message comes in.
"127 ft away!?? u at the astoria too?"
The president texts back "yea just 4 th night"
"u want some company?"
"wife would kill me"
"LOL! i know the feeling bro. u party?"
"not really. luv 420 but haven't in a long time"
Suddenly, Barack seems himself, laying in bed, eating junk food, staring at that magnificent piece, lazily fondling his own, texting with this intriguing and endowed stranger. For a moment he's almost revolted but it feels so right.
"O yah? have some sick chonic if u want to join me."
"have to be discreet. could get into a lot of trouble."
"me, too alOha, i'm kind of famous, lol. I'll send u a face pic if you send me yours."
Obama stares at the words, all dancing together. And faces drift into his mind, all of the faces he's seen on the campaign trail, working men and women, the press corps, Michelle's, Hillary's, Biden's. Springsteen. A wave of panic hits him.
"i'm sorry i can;t" texts the President.
He puts the iPhone to sleep and sets it down. He takes a sip of the beer that came with burger.
The phone chimes again with a message notification. It's hungsthrnstud. He's sent a pic.
Obama slides to unlock the phone and taps Grindr. There it is, the face.
He drops his beer on the floor as he sees the face staring back up at him: Bill Clinton, playing sax on the Arsenio Hall show circa 1992.
The President shuts off the phone and tosses it across the room like it's radioactive. Just then, the hotel phone rings. Must be Axelrod. He picks it up.
"Aloha, Mr. President," says Bill Clinton on the other line, his Arkansas drawl, hanging like pulled taffy in the air. He sounds stoned.
"Bill. Good-- good to hear from you."
"You like what you see?" The wet, gurgling sound of a water bong being sucked on in the background comes through the phone. "It's 9 inches." Clinton exhales loudly.
"Bill, I think… I think maybe you've had one too many drinks tonight. I don't know what you're talking about--"
"Now don't be shy, of course I knew it was you. Barry, I have wanted to sit you on my lap and ride you around in the Oval Office desk chair since the 2004 convention. Come on. I have seen you lookin' at some of the campaign stops. Ah've seen you checkin' out what I have going on downstairs. It's OK. As Presidents, we have bigger… appetites."
"This is-- this is insane. We can't do this Bill, as much as I'd like to know. Firsthand. What it is that you're packing--"
"Mister President, put on your bath robe and come to my room, 1714. Ah've got a bottle of Dom here and the stinkiest weed you ever put your nostrils to.
"Bill, I--" the President speaks but there's only a dial tone now.
Obama walks over to the window and gazes at the bustling city below. A laughing young couple is in a horse drawn carriage, cozy on the cold New York night. He imagines him and Bill, together, sharing a hot cider, the wind on their faces, no one knowing who they are, except each other. The only ones who can really understand each other.
The 44th President of the United States slips off his T-Shirt and boxers, wraps himself in the plush terry robe hanging in the bathroom and walks, heart racing, out the hotel room door.
Enjoy!
----------------
"Just one more day and the campaign's over, the President thought to himself. "I'll have a chance to do the job I always wanted to do. In some ways these first four years have felt like a trial period. In more ways than one. We've done some good work, but I can't help feeling Michelle drifting away more each day. Or is it me who's drifting? We never talk about--"
Just then, a knock raps against the ornate doors of the Waldorf Astoria hotel room.
Two secret service men step in and part to allow a bus boy carry in a domed dish.
As the President watches the boy-- 25, an oarsman's build, dewy lips and a pompadour the color of wild owls-- his eyes drift to the tight, ice cream curves of the boys ass and the ample package nestled tightly in front.
"Mr. President? Sir?" The boy scans the President's eyes for recognition, but the former community organizer appears lost in a day dream.
"Yup, yes. I, you can just leave that right there, son."
Obama watches the secret service men usher the bus boy out. Did one of them cast a quick, knowing glance in his direction as he exited?
"It's just nerves," the President tells himself as he opens the dome to reveal a huge bacon cheeseburger and fries. Just the kind of meal Michelle would deny him. Always denying him what he needs.
The President reaches into his briefcase, opens a secret compartment and pulls out his iPhone, his secret line that no one, not his family, not his friends, not Axelrod knows. As he bites into the juicy burger with one hand, he navigates to an app, nestled away on the last screen. Its orange yellow icon and etched line drawing face stare back at him. He taps it. Grindr.
As Barack devours the thick, salty fries by the handful, he scrolls through all of the other profiles, a sea of muscled torsos, smirking young twinks, and it, his own profile-- a shot of himself playing hoops, shirtless, cropped so that the head can't be seen. His profile name, alOha glows in the upper right hand corner.
"I can't be doing this," he thinks. "What if someone finds me. What if someone blackmails me?" Just then, the digital gurgle of a notification beeps in. Someone's messaged him.
Obama looks at the screen to see who it is and there's the profile pic for hungsthrnstud. A thick, not unmuscled torso, white, pinkish even covered with a fan of white chest hair is staring back at him. He opens the message:
"sup"
Followed by the image of the same torso cropped much lower to show an erect penis, so disproportionately large that it would be more suited to a donkey.
The President reaches to turn off the phone, but a deep seated yearning, a stirring he can feel from the core of his being stops him. Before he knows it, he's texting back.
"sup"
His palms begin to sweat as another message comes in.
"127 ft away!?? u at the astoria too?"
The president texts back "yea just 4 th night"
"u want some company?"
"wife would kill me"
"LOL! i know the feeling bro. u party?"
"not really. luv 420 but haven't in a long time"
Suddenly, Barack seems himself, laying in bed, eating junk food, staring at that magnificent piece, lazily fondling his own, texting with this intriguing and endowed stranger. For a moment he's almost revolted but it feels so right.
"O yah? have some sick chonic if u want to join me."
"have to be discreet. could get into a lot of trouble."
"me, too alOha, i'm kind of famous, lol. I'll send u a face pic if you send me yours."
Obama stares at the words, all dancing together. And faces drift into his mind, all of the faces he's seen on the campaign trail, working men and women, the press corps, Michelle's, Hillary's, Biden's. Springsteen. A wave of panic hits him.
"i'm sorry i can;t" texts the President.
He puts the iPhone to sleep and sets it down. He takes a sip of the beer that came with burger.
The phone chimes again with a message notification. It's hungsthrnstud. He's sent a pic.
Obama slides to unlock the phone and taps Grindr. There it is, the face.
He drops his beer on the floor as he sees the face staring back up at him: Bill Clinton, playing sax on the Arsenio Hall show circa 1992.
The President shuts off the phone and tosses it across the room like it's radioactive. Just then, the hotel phone rings. Must be Axelrod. He picks it up.
"Aloha, Mr. President," says Bill Clinton on the other line, his Arkansas drawl, hanging like pulled taffy in the air. He sounds stoned.
"Bill. Good-- good to hear from you."
"You like what you see?" The wet, gurgling sound of a water bong being sucked on in the background comes through the phone. "It's 9 inches." Clinton exhales loudly.
"Bill, I think… I think maybe you've had one too many drinks tonight. I don't know what you're talking about--"
"Now don't be shy, of course I knew it was you. Barry, I have wanted to sit you on my lap and ride you around in the Oval Office desk chair since the 2004 convention. Come on. I have seen you lookin' at some of the campaign stops. Ah've seen you checkin' out what I have going on downstairs. It's OK. As Presidents, we have bigger… appetites."
"This is-- this is insane. We can't do this Bill, as much as I'd like to know. Firsthand. What it is that you're packing--"
"Mister President, put on your bath robe and come to my room, 1714. Ah've got a bottle of Dom here and the stinkiest weed you ever put your nostrils to.
"Bill, I--" the President speaks but there's only a dial tone now.
Obama walks over to the window and gazes at the bustling city below. A laughing young couple is in a horse drawn carriage, cozy on the cold New York night. He imagines him and Bill, together, sharing a hot cider, the wind on their faces, no one knowing who they are, except each other. The only ones who can really understand each other.
The 44th President of the United States slips off his T-Shirt and boxers, wraps himself in the plush terry robe hanging in the bathroom and walks, heart racing, out the hotel room door.
rohlfinator
Member
Damn, this rally is in Des Moines? I could have been there... now I regret not paying closer attention to this stuff.
Agreed. They're losing the demographic race, but I don't think it would take much for them to pull themselves back to competitiveness. They could get a much better share of the Hispanic vote just by dropping their insane immigration policies.
Agreed. They're losing the demographic race, but I don't think it would take much for them to pull themselves back to competitiveness. They could get a much better share of the Hispanic vote just by dropping their insane immigration policies.
ClovingWestbrook
Banned
Title Ideas:
OT| Come and celebrate Phoenixdark being wrong... AGAIN
OT| It's Obama's world, we're just worshiping in it
OT| The tribulation begins if Obama wins
OT| Come and celebrate Phoenixdark being wrong... AGAIN
OT| It's Obama's world, we're just worshiping in it
OT| The tribulation begins if Obama wins
538 Problems, But Romney Ain't One
Baraka in the White House
2-Terms of Kombat
It...it's..
IT'S OVER 9...0%....!?!?!?!??!
IT'S OVER 9...0%....!?!?!?!??!
MasterShotgun
brazen editing lynx
|OT6| IT'S HAPPENING
("Year 1 of 1000 Years of Darkness" was an early favorite, but I think it should be saved for the thread after Obama actually wins.)
Randolph Freelander
Member
|OT6| OHVA
el retorno
Member
fixed.
Baraka in the White House
2-Terms of Kombat
OT: Hey PD, Tell Me How My Asshole Tastes
Black Mamba
Member
Guys, the election starts in 20 minutes!
New these should go up.
New these should go up.
ClovingWestbrook
Banned
Actually this is a good idea
Randolph Freelander
Member
There's actually a fundamental problem here. If Obama wins, we'll never hear the specifics of Romney's plan.
DragonSworne
Banned
Will people blame Nate Sliver and 538 when Obama wins?
|OT| Dawn of The First Day - 8766000 Hours Remain -
Black Mamba
Member
Voter fraud
Liberal media
Chicago thugs
Sandy
Nate silver
Welfare queens
Add it all to the list
Liberal media
Chicago thugs
Sandy
Nate silver
Welfare queens
Add it all to the list
Randolph Freelander
Member
OT6 - The Road to 2016 starts now 
I like it
ClovingWestbrook
Banned
from Kad
|OT6| Bad News Obama, You Won
|OT6| Bad News Obama, You Won
Poligaf OT6 - Obama got reelected? Bad News for Obama.
Poligaf OT6 - Revenge is a dish best served with socialism.
Poligaf OT6 - BHENGAZI, BHENGAZI,BHENGAZI,BHENGAZI,BHENGAZI!
Poligaf OT6 - Thanks a lot, Chris Christie
Poligaf OT6 - It's not like Romney wanted the presidency anyway
Poligaf OT6 - Unlike last time, Obama's not gonna just TALK about genocide
Poligaf OT6 - Revenge is a dish best served with socialism.
Poligaf OT6 - BHENGAZI, BHENGAZI,BHENGAZI,BHENGAZI,BHENGAZI!
Poligaf OT6 - Thanks a lot, Chris Christie
Poligaf OT6 - It's not like Romney wanted the presidency anyway
Poligaf OT6 - Unlike last time, Obama's not gonna just TALK about genocide
GregLombardi
Member
My final prediction map for what it's worth.
OT6 - The Road to 2016 starts now
The Road to 2016: Bush v. Clinton: Part 2
el retorno
Member
i like this.
Just the kind of thing the govt. is good forOf course this would cost money (or more jobs being created
In any case, it can't be much worse than mobilizing and staffing physical polling stations across the nation.
reggieandTFE
Member
The Klan started in Indiana. Also, Indianpolis/Marion county government was unified to keep the main urban area in the state competitive for Republicans; accordingly, a traditional Democratic machine never developed. Unions are significantly weaker in IN compared to other Midwestern states.
DragonSworne
Banned
OT | Romney Concedes Race from his Obama Phone
BobTheFork
Member
OT6| A thousand year's of Obama's energy plan.
Heh, I like that one.
OT6 - The Road to 2016 starts now
PoliGAF 2012 ¦OT6¦ The road to Chris Christie 2016
Randolph Freelander
Member
OT6 Full Speed Ahead To The Fiscal Cliff
Noisy Ninj4
Member
|OT6| Bad news: Obama OHVA 90%
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