Thursday, March 27, 2014

Congratulations Filibuster Phil!



As a senator standing up and screaming is part and parcel of what you do.  Some people call it being a dickhead, some people call it politics as usual, you call it making a living.  And, to quote Dolly Parton, what a way to make a living, at that!

Some people are just better at screaming than others, though.  You, you're one of, if not simply just, the best.  You're one of the few true blue senators who can not only scream really loud, but can also stand up while doing so and, what's more, you can do so for an extended period of time.  You're one of the last remaining filibusterers.

Today is going to be a particularly auspicious day for you.  Senator Wuzzizface from that state we usually don't care about that actually has a lot of money, thanks to a handful of prudent investors and businesses people tend not to think about (we think it might be Washington) will come into your office, pork-pie hat literally in hand, and ask you to filibuster for him.

"We need to make sure this bill doesn't pass," he'll explain.

You'll smile and tap your knuckles against your desk sharply, then stand up and look to an empty part of the room.

"Watch this," you'll announce to no one in particular.

"I'll help you filibuster, but you'll have to pay my filibuster fee," you'll tell Senator Wuzzizface.

"I assumed as much," he'll say, baffled by your behavior, but happy that you'll have agreed to help him, since you'll technically be going against your own party to do so.  After he speaks you'll turn to the empty part of the room again and wink.

"Just like I always wanted," you'll say in a perfectly normal voice that Senator Wuzzizface has no trouble whatsoever hearing.

A week later, you'll stand up and shout at the senate a bunch until they go on senate vacation, which is like, most of the year.  Two weeks after that, you'll be committed to a mental institution for addressing an invisible camera that doesn't exist and never has.  You'll die in there from complications related to siphilus, which you should've had treated years ago, but never thought to, since, as a filibustering senator, you thought you could just talk it to death.

You'll say that to your imaginary camera just before you die; it'll be okay, but the staff at the hospital won't be impressed.  They'll have seen it all before.

Congratulations Filibuster Phil!

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