I Hope I Can Kill the Next One Myself | By Barack Obama

Booyah! Another one bites the dust! Duh duh dun dun dun… ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST!!!

Seriously, you guys, I did it. Gaddafi’s taking a dirt nap. And only, like, six months after Bin Laden, too. Damn, it feels good to be me. I fuckin love this whole “wartime president” thing. I get to do awesome stuff like kill dictators, order unmanned drones to blow up Afghan towns, and meet the ‘85 Chicago Bears. Hot damn!

I will admit that I started out slow. The first two years…. ehh. But you’ve gotta learn the ropes. It took six months before the Joint Chiefs even bothered to mention what the awesome control panel room next to the kitchen could do. Just think what would’ve gone down if I’d had access to it then! LeBron would’ve for sure come to Chicago, because there wouldn’t have been a Miami to even consider.

Nah, I’m just kidding. I’d never abuse my power. Never would order the death of an American citizen or anything. HAHAHA, gotcha! It’s fucking awesome to be able to do that. Just push one button… and boom! Out comes a death warrant. It’s like the Old West or something. I’m the Lone Ranger, Joe is Tanto, and the horse I ride on is called Justice. Or whatever Soros’ wants to name it; he’d probably end up paying for it.

So now I can scratch the names ‘Osama’ and ‘Gaddafi’ into the bedpost next to Michelle’s name (cause I’ve FUCKED THEM ALL). Who wants to step up to the plate next? Barack’s got a heater coming for you. How ‘bout you, Sarkozy? You and your country are getting a bit uppity, aren’t you?

What I really want, though, its to be able to pull the trigger on the next one myself. Just line it up, pop off the safety…. and a single twitch later, the deed is done. Man, that has to feel like… victory, probably. And I bet it tastes just like happiness. God damn, I need to get this next one.

So who’s it going to be? Who wants to mess with Barack? Do any of you punks feel lucky? DO YA? If so, just think who you’re fucking with before you do anything stupid. Notify your next of kin, kiss your wife goodbye, and take your best shot. Next thing you know, you’re being dragged through the streets and dumped into the ocean. Booyah.