President Nacho

I sometimes tell people I’m a political junkie.  But I think I might be lying because, really, politics bores me.


To be fair, though, I don’t think I would have been bored with American politics before 1976.  Back then, things were wild and unpredictable.  But the post-Nixon era saw the homogenization of both parties, and strict control over events.  No more will we see people run wild outside of the convention centers.  No longer will candidates break down in tears during a speech, or have weird public meltdowns.  No longer is anyone exciting enough to get shot.

Even throwing a black man up is boring because, Jesus, he’s the same fucking thing, isn’t he?  The multi-headed hydra of American Political Blandness, be it white, black, or shrew.    We’re down to the subtle differences – the least of evils.  All the wild people – the worthy ones who would buck the system – have been squeezed out.  They can’t get the money, and the Parties won’t support them.  We had a blip with Perot, who had enough money to ignore everyone, and there was plenty of sideshow antics there, but it still wasn’t exciting because he was a gnomish businessman who pushed a single goal.

If I had enough money to successfully launch an independent presidential campaign, I’d be off the level.  I’d be throwing empty vodka bottles at people, pulling pretty women out of the audience, driving my car on the sidewalk and screaming at people.  I’d knock over podiums and wildly insult all the other candidates… And you’d have to put up with me.  I’d pay tens of millions for 30 second Superbowl spots.  “Vote Nacho: He Can Drink Putin Under the Table!  What’s with that crazy Red bastard, anyway?”

I’d buy my way into the debates.  If they try to bar me, I’ll buy the place hosting the debate.  Then I’d just tear into people.  “And you, you crazy, old, useless fossil.  Maybe you’ll get the Pterosaur vote!”

“And you, you shrewish horror.  Just shut up.  You can take the girl out of Arkansas, but you can’t take the redneck shitheel conservative cunt out of the girl!”

“And now on to my Nubian brother… What would George Jefferson think about you, eh?  Oreo, right?”

“And you!  The Smiler!”  Oh, I would save Edwards for last…

I want about 100 billion dollars.  Because then I’ll be able to sleep with and impregnate Bristol Palin!  Well, actually, I could probably do that with a six pack of Zima.

See?  You all would vote for me.  Then, in the White House, things would change.  Alternative energy, for one.  Dump tons of money into that shit and free us of oil.  I guess I’d have to dissolve Congress.  I’d work on that.  It should be easy, because I’ll recall the troops and I’ll turn the Palin girls into whores.  And the Edwards girls.  And Chelsea.  All of them.  All of the fucking shit-eating, shiny, happy political daughters of America will be rounded up and put in a brothel, and the New Nacho Army will all have free access.  Side with me for guns, money, and silver spoon pussy.

We’ll march on Congress and round them up.  We’ll whore their daughters and swing their infant sons against the pillars.

Then, free of oil, we’ll pull all support out of the Mideast.  Let the Jews and the Arabs eat themselves.  Let the wealthy oil nations fall into tribal despair.  They’ll be laying out skins to dry on the unfinished floors of Burj Dubai.

All missiles will turn on Putin.  Want us to price you out of the game again, motherfucker?  No problem.

We’ll stop importing everything from China.  Every child’s trinket, every toaster, every pair of shoes.  Let the brown people down south make it for us.  When Castro drops, Cuba will be our playground again.  And Chavez?  I’ll handpick crazy black trenchcoat wearing motherfuckers from troubled highschools around the country to fly down there with Samurai swords.  Let them die.  Those retards are expendable.

At home, it’ll be all about education.  Get a group of unemployed PhD’s together and you have the Nazi party!  Except Jews won’t be my sticking point.  We’ll round up the Mormons, the evangelicals, the cults.  We’ll take down Scientology.  First they came for Xenu, and I did nothing.  Then they came for me!

All of the religious nutjobs will be put in forced labor camps.  I won’t kill them… I’ll turn them into cheap labor.  Coffee machines, sneakers, DVD players.  There’ll be a work-release program where they perform janitorial duties for free, watched over by hard cons and harder cops.  Plunging out the toilet, boss!  Cleaning up the roadkill, boss!

I’ll institute World War II-era recycling plans.  You can’t get a new tube of toothpaste unless you turn in the old one.  Everything is recycled and composted.  Including the discarded bodies of Religious Work Camp laborers.  Right on the heap with the coffee grounds and orange peels.  Turn, turn, turn, then spread over your carrots.

Meanwhile, the Nacho Army will be outfitted like Lord Humongous’ forces in The Road Warrior. 

I am the warrior of the wasteland!  The ayatollah of rock-and-rollah!

Smegma Crazies to the left!  Gayboy Berserkers to the gate!  THE GAAATE!


   One Comment


  1. Disco Dust
      October 10, 2008

    Bulworth had nothing on you!