In the Obama administration, we’re all about change, so how ‘bout you change into something more comfortable as I light these pumpkin spice candles and demonstrate just how hands-on of a vice president I can be. Don’t make this weird. Just relax. Let my silky Irish touch whisk away all the tension in your neck, shoulders, lower back, and earlobes. Or we could just say to hell with being coy and go straight for the earlobe action, your call.
Listen, you, the hard-working American, deserve a dedicated VP who personally comes to your place of residence–completely unannounced and without any media presence–and massages you head to toe while wearing an elegant kimono and puffing on a cigar. Hell, you can even puff the cigar and wear this kimono, whatever you’re into.
C’mon, why do you have to be so awkward about this? Let your guard down. It’s the security presence, isn’t it? I’ll tell my bodyguards to leave the room.
Please understand, I’m simply fulfilling my duties here. I assure you, my fingers are miracle workers. They also don’t prune easily, so if you’d feel more comfortable moving this rodeo to the bathtub, I’m game.
Either way, this is going down. It’s on like Kong, my friend, and frankly–with the exclusion of which Barry Manilow album to play–you don’t really have much choice in the matter.
Have you read the U.S. Constitution? I mean really read it, word for word, the whole thing through? That’s what I thought. It limits my political power significantly, but oddly enough grants me a shit load of tyrannical ‘freelance chiropractor’ power.
So get that middle-class ass cozy while I brew us some dragon fruit tea, and prepare to feel the warm embrace of Liberty.