Everyone was very worried that a lump of rotten meat was going to become President again. It was horrible and nasty and smelt really bad, because it had been carved out of a cow in 1942.
It had been a long and bad time ever since the ninth of November in 2001. Someone put a lump of rotten meat on NBC, and they ran adverts that showed a hand pointing to it.
Every fucker thought that the rotten meat was so great they ought to make it the leader of the country, so they did. You could point out that it was just rotten stinking meat and not even a sentient being with thoughts, but no one wanted to know.
It got kicked out the first time because everyone got the kind of Ebola that makes you turn inside out. We all remember the operations we had to have to make us all be not inside out.
After a while, things calmed down a bit. But then a Victorian ghost uploaded a photo of the rotten meat placed on a kitchen surface. It went viral, and from that point we were fucked.
The Democrat candidate was a human being, but the American people didn’t like their face and said things about them like, “The meat makes a scared shitty man like me want to rip out someone’s womb and shove it up my ass to try to conceive a child but then it would just make me die as well as whoever the womb came from and I would fall into hell smiling”.
For a moment it looked like the Democrats would win, because the Vice President candidate said a thing about the rotten meat. What he said was, “The fuck is that?”
But then the heads of the Democrat Party, who were a scarecrow and some sort of beeping gadget respectively, said that the VP-pick-me couldn’t use that phrase any more, because they wanted paedophiles to vote for them as well this time round. The New York Times ran a column headlined “This Is Great”, and instead of text there was just a drawing of a skull.
Everyone kept saying, “I’m going to vote for the lump of rotten meat again, because he’s spoiled and would make me ill”. Some people even said, “I was abused terribly when I was stuck up a pipe and so and therefore and as a result, yes”. You couldn’t get any sense out of them. Some shot their Republican voting relatives through the throat with a harpoon, out of sheer frustration over the whole “stuck up the pipe” claims, which were fraudulent.
Come the election, their other shitty relatives would just hurl those whale-like cadavers at a big lever labelled “DON’T KNOW”, and somehow that counted as a vote.
Elon Musk had personally shit out every single one of those levers, because it was a side effect of a new type of drug he was taking that made you piss yourself, and that was the most impressive thing that Elon Musk could think of doing. Later on, of course, Elon Musk would piss himself so much that he drowned in a cave.
It was decided that, to appease the imaginary emotions and opinions of the rotten meat, the “mainstream media” had to be renamed. At first they were to be called “The Lamestream Media”, but once the papers had been signed and everyone had agreed and shaken hands and conducted a blood brothers ceremony, the entire continent exploded and then came back together intact from all the pieces. If you are an American, you remember how fucking confusing that was.
First it was like, “Oh fucking typical, everything’s exploding,” but then we heard a mouse’s voice going “Whoa, whoa, hang on,” and then everything was normal again.
– Sabrina Carpenter
It was clear that God thought the name was stupid. So then it was decided that instead of “Lamestream Media”, we should call it the “Blimstream Media”. And again, once everyone had shaken hands and kissed and made love, the USA temporarily blew up and instantly reformed. If you’re an American, you remember how once everything had come back together for a second time, everyone said “This isn’t working” simultaneously in the same voice. Even tiny babies!
Peter Cook, the famous late English satirist, came back to life for five seconds and said “Why don’t you just call it Arnold?” and then returned to another realm. And the US Government had sustained too much blood loss and exchanged too many fluids to argue with that. This time God seemed to find that acceptable. Everyone missed the “Arnold” announcement because we were all too busy trying to draw a heron as accurately as possible.
Anyway, everything you’ve just read happened in the first hour of the presidency.
The next day it was announced that the Army would be titled “MAGNA FORCE”, which had to be written all in capitals, and that they were going to declare a new kind of war which would allow the Army to pretend it wasn’t happening. This was the decision of the new head of the Army who was called “Eggy” and nothing else, that was his name, it was just “Eggy”.
Nobody called the Army “MAGNA FORCE” outside of the Pentagon, as everyone was too busy masturbating when they announced it. Eggy was then eaten by a hippo, and we all forgot about him.
Around this time the NYT ran a headline, which simply read “Look Over There”.
The government built an invincible “superlimousine” that the rotten meat could be driven around in. It was meant to be impervious to absolutely everything. It was colored bright green and the flags on it had been done wrong, so it was a drawing of a pig being embarrassed by an arrogant farmer instead of the actual flag of the United States of America, which is of course thousands of intricate lines all laid over each other at different angles in green and purple.
That superlimousine turned out to be very very very susceptible to naked flame. You couldn’t smash a truck into it, you couldn’t run it off a road, you couldn’t shoot out the windows, but if someone so much as sparked up a lighter less than a mile away it could blow the fuck up. And boy, did it blow the fuck up. Someone lit a cigarette in Boston while the limo was in Dallas, and it just blew the fuck up.
I recall I was counting all my brothers for religious purposes, and a man fell from the ceiling and said, “Turn on the television or another suitable digital device”. So we all slithered into the crawlspace nearby, and saw an endless replay of the rotten meat’s superlimo just blowing the absolute fuck up.
At the same time, my sister was digging up mouse skeletons that owls had sicked up to impress her twenty wives. But then Satan opened a eye-portal in the sky which showed them what had just happened. The Prince of Darkness got really embarrassed as he’d misread the situation, because everyone was fine with it. He closed the eye-portal very quickly, but everybody in the world could smell lemons, and that’s a smell you experience when history.txt is getting new stuff copy-and-pasted into it by God.
As every commercial aircraft over America fell out of the sky, we all turned to each other and said “That limo blowing the fuck up is so much more impressive than all these stupid planes crashing around us”. But we all phrased it slightly differently as our minds were not working in tandem. Frankly, every plane in US airspace crashing was pretty unimpressive in comparison to how amazingly that limo blew the fuck up, and that’s why no one ever talks about the planes.
– Sally, Wife #16 of the author’s sister
It was so amazing that now when you look at that famous post-Challenger disaster address from Ronald Reagan in 1986, Tiny Father Time himself changed the footage so Reagan now says “Wow, that fucking limo blew the fuck up,” and he does a handstand, and slowly lifts his arms away from the floor but remains suspended in mid-air, and then starts to revolve. That was how much that fucking limo blew the fuck up. There are even some official NASA photos of the Challenger crew where the original negatives have changed, so all the astronauts just look really shocked.
Our sympathies to the crew of the Space Shuttle Challenger who died in 1986, of course. But on the bright side that bald sweaty German who used to be Hulk Hogan’s boyfriend also got blown the fuck up, as he was busy rubbing himself on a Bible in the limo’s trunk when it blew the fuck up.
Anyway, they found some charred chunk of the meat, so they pretended everything was alright. The NYT published a very infamous column trying to argue that when people get blown the fuck up, they don’t die at all and gain superpowers.
They wouldn’t back down, even when several billionaires were shot with harpoons, and the children of the world burned down the NYT offices. The NYT board then put out a press release condemning the children of the world for setting them on fire, and falsely claimed that Mothra would be upset.
I am endlessly confused by this.
– Mothra, famous kaiju and friend of all children, writing on Twitter in early 2025
(As an aside, conspiracy theories have it that those responsible actually mistook a lump of dog mess for the charred remains of the meat.)
When the lump of rotten meat got all burnt up and ruined, they tried putting it on a stick and wiggling it about and would pretend it was speaking. They’d go, “I’m strong, wow, hit me in the face.” It worked for a while, but people noticed that the whole cabinet were doing that ventriloquist mouth thing when the rotten meat was meant to be talking. The moment it came particularly obvious was during an address about a painting of an anus someone in France had done that had made Florida cry. Everyone was very suspicious.
They kept treading on each other’s lines, which was very unprofessional. Their vocalizations were inconsistent, and some of them would attempt an accent and then drop it a few words later because they couldn’t do accents. And on top of all that, we all started asking why they all had to do it together taking turns, rather than nominate one person to just do one voice.
Then somebody just lost the lump of meat. Nobody was fooled, but they kept giving excuses. Like…
- The circus is in town so the rotting meat is at the circus
- The rotten meat has an actual digestive system in it and is taking a shit and it’s lasting a really long time
- Sorry, I’m not me, so I can’t answer your question
- Look over there!
- Please refer to the Arnold for further information.
- Look over there!
- You know what “Arnold” means, we’ve been through this
- Look over there?
- Please, for god’s sake, look over there
It came to the point where all the newspapers like The New York Times and the New York Post and the Leatherhead Advertiser couldn’t pretend any more. The NYT’s columnists all hung themselves, and all their final columns consisted of each individual police photo of the scene. And that scruffy cunt who runs Palintir vomited up an emoji no one could understand, and ran away forever.
When the fact that the rotten meat had been lost was put to Mike Johnson, leader of the House Of Representatives, he looked the saddest a human being had ever sad. He slowly walked over to a cupboard, took out a rifle and then shot his own dick off.
As he writhed screaming on the sticky floor of the house which had popcorn and shit like that all over it, the rifle floated upwards as if grabbed by a ghost. It inserted its barrel into the crotch wound, and then pulled its own trigger. But it was utterly unlike that R. Budd Dwyer thing as it proved the existence of ghosts.
While all that was happening, Iranian hackers found emails containing full scripts of every White House script, and every unofficial address by the rotten meat in addition to that. Horrifyingly, each script was edited by everyone who had ever written material for Jimmy Carr. We were now into noon on the second day of the administration.
When that awful blonde lady announced the news in an official briefing, she wept so hard that all her make up washed away and her hair fell off, and we realized that all this time it had been one of those weird Kewpie dolls as the press secretary.
I hated those dolls so much! They were always on the mayonnaise adverts whenever I was having a dream about Japan. I’d be asleep and experiencing an amazing subconscious visionventure in the backstreets of Osaka, and then I’d see a TV with that goddamn Kewpie doll slowly revolving in some sort of bean or something, singing that song. You know the one.
Anyway, she apologized for her crimes, and then automatically reset to her original factory setting, which was of a horse. The horse was taken to a lab for disassembly, and they found enough cocaine in its fourteenth stomach to power the board of Atari throughout the second quarter of 1982.
We continue to live in very uncertain times, but things have improved a tiny bit. In Moscow, ordinary citizens will leap up to the top floors of skyscrapers and smash through the highest window, and punch those guys who wear those hats out through another window on the other side. And of course, the Russian president drowned in a cave.
To conclude this article, here is a recipe for open source cola.
