The Skanky Truth of it All [Jun 30, 2003]

Greetings once again, cousins and stepchildren of the blog-reading community. I, Matthew Tobey of Haypenny and The City of Floating Blogs, am back for day-two of my two-week guest-blogging stint.

As you surely remember from the last time I blogged, I blew the doors wide open on the barn of shadow-inhabiting terrorist organizations. The world hasn’t been the same since I shat the truth into the diapers of your minds, and it’s about to get even more not the same.

Today, I bring you some facts about our very own United States government that will shatter your earth and boggle your balls/ovaries. As you’ve surely heard, several Senators are pushing for legislation to move the Secretary of Homeland Security position up the line of Presidential succession ten slots, from eighteenth to eighth.

“Snore,” you’re saying, “wake me up when there’s something scandalous and soul splattering.”

How’s this mince your mind? While the media and the public have full and complete knowledge of the first eighteen slots in the line of succession, only the head of the CIA, the Grand Husky of the Freemasons and the Mighty, Mighty Sheikh of The National 4-H Council possess the list of slots nineteen through six-billion…until now. By employing my unmatched sleuthing skills and a few well-placed HJs, my hands now hold a copy of this much-coveted list.

“Who is number seventy-three? What number am I? I swear to God, if Venus Williams is ranked higher than Martin Mull, somebody is going to get stabbed!” you’re saying in broken American Sign Language, as you’re far too impassioned to speak with your voice.

Settle down. There will be plenty of time for all of your questions to be answered and comments to be addressed, except for the stupid ones, which I will compile and release in book form through a hip, independent publishing house. The aesthetic qualities of this book will outweigh the content seven-to-one.

First things first, you’re all surely wondering who number nineteen is. After all, intelligence tells us that the next terrorist strike will likely involve infiltrating Energy Secretary Spencer “Spence” Abraham’s weekly Balderdash tournament that is never not attended by President Bush, Vice President Cheney, House Speaker Hastert, Senate President Pro Tempore Stevens, Attorney General Ashcroft and every other member of the cabinet. Chances are, if some scheming international villain with a vial of arsenic can simply get his or her dirty mitts on a batch of Norman Mineta’s famous Balderdash-night fluffer-nutters, the President and all eighteen of his backups will suddenly be out of commission. And that is why it is so unsettling to know that if this more-than-likely scenario becomes a reality, our new President will be none other than crab-lice farmer Paris Hilton.

I hope your were sitting down and wearing protective gear before you read that. If not, you’re probably reading this sentence through an exploded face. I apologize for not warning you ahead of time.

You're probably wondering why and how Paris was ranked so high when she isn't 35, and her foreign policy stances are total horse-shit. To that kind of wondering, I point you to the fact that Millard Fillmore was both fourteen-years-old and legally dead when he was elected. There are ways around the so-called rules.

Intrigued? Of course you are. More tomorrow.