Platform Shoes? Oh, No. Platform for Prez (Republican) Primaries!

I love platform shoes. They give a grrl the added height without the ‘oh my god my feet are funicular* killing me!” However, they do nada in getting me where I want to be–in the winner’s circle, bay-bee. If I’m going to run for president, I need a platform. By the way, I announced my candidacy once before.  But, that was from the left and for 2016.  It was also because I was pissed off about the whole birther issue, and I thought my candidacy would really make the batsheetcrazy’s heads explode since both my parents were immigrants to this country when I was born.

Will I still have to deal with the birfer nonsense from the right now that I have switched my allegiance?  I don’t know.  I have a hunch, though, as long as I Malkin** it and say that imprisoning the Japanese during WWII was the right thing to do, the birfers won’t have too much difficulty accepting my citizenship.  I will even show them my long form, if they so demand.  Except to Orly Taintz.  She skeers me more than a little.

But, before I present my platform, I need to attend to a bit of housekeeping re:  my upcoming nuptials.  As you know, I am trying to have my wedding on the Stephen Colbert show.  To that end, I’ve been twitting him from time to time asking him to call me.  If you are so inclined to help, his twitname is:  StephenAtHome.  My hashtags for the joyous event are #faketrioticwedding and #CallmeColbert.  Please affix them to every twit you send to Stephen.  Anyway, I have found the perfect shoes for the wedding–provided I can get used to them in time.  I don’t wear heels, so it’s going to take a lot of practice.  And, since I want to give a shout-out to our troops without doing anything to actually support them, and since I want to bond with Sarah Palin, I will have my bridesmaids wear these camo Naughty Monkey shoes under their Statue of Liberty dress.  I was chilling with my best friend tonight, and she suggested that she wear the Statue of Liberty dress while the other bridesmaids be the huddled masses.  I thought it was brilliant, but that it didn’t really fit in with the theme of U-S-A, U-S-A, because let’s face it, huddled masses are a drag.  They are not uplifting or patriotic at all.  And, this will be my wedding night lingerie, not that Yutsy will appreciate it.  Harrumph.

Back to my platform.  As I said, I announced my plan to run for president from the left in 2016 back in 2009. This was my platform at the time.

As you can see, I need to tweak it.  There is no way in Hades that a condom on every cock is gonna fly for my current platform.  Therefore, I have to jettison the old one and work on a new one.  Here we go.

My Fellow Americans:

Today, I stand before you, steely-eyed and firm of chin in order to announce my exploration into the declaration of my candidacy as the Republican candidate as the president of this wonderful country of ours.  My friends***, as you all know, we stand on the brink of ruin, brought to us by President Kenyan Usurper, Where is Your Long Form, You IsloFascistSocialist, Barrack Hussein Obama?.  The BRINK OF RUIN, I tell you.  Yes, President Mooslim blackity-black man brought us to the brink of ruin–from the steaming debris of the ruin.  How DARE he pull us back from the abyss before we went tumbling headfirst into the   smoldering fires of Hades and Damascus Figs.  We need to stop him before he allows us to recover completely!

But enough about him.  You’re here to hear about me and what I can do for our magnificent country that is a pearl in the oysters of oceans in the sea of worlds filled with kelp and kale.   You want to know how I am going to uplift America from sea to shining sea with amber waves of grains o’er the rampart we hail, onward, Christian soldier!  We will take back our country from the Kenyan interloper and his Nubian army of dark-skinned, glistening Warriors–er, Wizards.  We will STOP Obamacare so that people have to pay a bajillion times as much for a medical procedure as God intended it.  How dare the president want to interfere with the invisible hands of the free market by not allowing the insurance companies to make as much loot as possible off the pain of every day citizens?  We HAVE free healthcare.  It’s called the emergency room, my friends, and by law, a person cannot be turned away from an emergency room.  Sure, it would be less expensive to treat people before they reached the emergency room, but Big Pharma’s gotta get paid somehow!

Ahem.  Sorry.  I get a little titillated thinking about all the mad monies Big Pharma is making as they protect the American consumer from himself.  But, on to another important issue–our dependency on foreign oil.  It has to end.  Our president is kowtowing to Arab countries because we are sucking at the teat of Arab oil.  No more!  It’s time to wean off that teat, my friends.  Instead, we must, in the words of the immoral Sarah Palin, drill, baby, drill.  Drill harder.  Drill deeper.  Harder.  Deeper.  Harder.  Deeper.  Oh, yeah, my friends, drill right there!

Excuse me.  Waiting for my wedding day is very difficult for me, but I’m keeping my eyes on God and praying fervently for the patience needed to make it to my wedding untouched by human hands, even my own.  I follow the Christine O’Donnell school of thought:

It is not enough to be abstinent with other people; you also have to be abstinent alone.  The Bible says that committing lust in the heart is committing adultery, so you cannot masturbate without lust.”

She is absolutely right.  One cannot masturbate without lust or at the very least, mild stirrings of desire.  So, no masturbation for me.   Although, I was sorely tempted by this dildo.  I mean, it’s offered by Shelley-the-Republican, therefore, it must be OK, right?

No!  I must stay strong.  My virginity**** is a precious gift from God unto my betrothed.  I just know Yutsy will be so appreciative of being the recipient of the delicate flower that is my womanhood.  But, in the meantime, a grrl’s got needs.  So, if I happen to stumble, and these happen to find their way up inside of me,   and I happen to squeeze my inside muscles compulsively over them, but without lust in my heart, then that’s not adultery, right?

Next up, the debt/deficit/how does this money thing work again?  Now, I know that we as a country are in dire straits right now.  We are brokety-broke broke because Mr. President Man gave all our money away to the greedy bankers when they messed up our econo–what?  We’re on the same side as the greedy bankers?  Wait.  That doesn’t make sense to me.  They are the ones who–ow!  OK.

Ahem.  I am against the TARP bailout that the President Bammer gave to the bankers because why should the banks get a bail-out when it’s the ordinary American who needs a bail-out?  However, I don’t think we should cripple our economy by raising taxes on the Producers of our–do I really have to say this?  I mean, no one can seriously believe this drivel, can they?  They do?  Well I’ll be dammed!  <==please note, not a swear.  OK.  If we raise taxes on our Top Producers, they will Go Galt and stop making monies for themselves.  Then, our economy will collapse again the way it did before when they didn’t Go Galt and didn’t stop making monies for themselves (just for everyone else), and we had to bail them out.

My friends, I know what it’s like to be down and out on your luck.  I know what it’s like to have to cut up one’s Neimann Marcus card and sell my Naughty Monkey shoes to Consuela, my housekeeper, at one-fourth the price in order to scrape by.  I know what it’s like not to be able to get my nails did every week so I can afford the monthly grooming sessions for my boys, Richard and Spiro*****.  I know the horrors of having to shop in consignment stores–imagine, buying clothing second-hand!  I would not wish that horror upon my worst enemy.  Except, perhaps, for that Michelle Malkin.  She really chaps my flat ass******.

Anyway.  America is in this bad bad economical situation.  She has to stop wearing Vera Wang and start shopping at Kohl’s.  She might have to blow a few guys to pay the rent and make ends meet.  She’ll have to star in a few adult movies so her electricity doesn’t get shut off.  What’s the solution?  Cutting taxes, of course.  If we cut taxes, then our Top Producers will work harder at making more monies and squirrel away all said monies in offshore accounts so they can retire in the Caribbean, laughing their asses off at the rubes of America who actually thought the Top Producers gave a Dalmatian about said rubes or America then trickle down said monies to the plebes.  In addition, we must freeze spending because spending is out of control.  We must immediately stop the ongoing wars we’re waging–what?  I’m not supposed to say that?  Well, how the hellion are we supposed to cut into the deficit without cutting how much money we spend on defense?  By cutting foreign aid which is roughly 1% of our budget?  Nonsense.  By cutting out social programs that help our children and the weakest members of our society?  You guys were serious when you said all that?

What the Hades is wrong with you people?

ALL RIGHT!    Screw over the poor and massage the balls of the wealthy.   I get it.

We’re broke, my friends.  We are flat out of money.  Therefore, we must tighten our belts, be more austere, and muddle through until we can get the jobs .  Stay tuned for part two of my platform in which I will tell you how we can make jobs appear out of thin air.

I am asiangrrlMN, and I approve this message.

*I gave up swearing for Lent as a warm-up for my run to the Republican primaries. I broke it within the first two hours I was up on Wednesday, but a friend who is an ex-Catholic assures me that it’s better to keep trying than to give up. I just have to throw a bunch of Hail Marys and eat a bunch of rosemary, and I’m forgiven.  Thus, I have to find substitutes for my swears. And, since I swear A LOT, it’s gotten…interesting.

**Yes, I’m turning Malkin into a verb.  A swear verb.

***Since it worked so well for McCain.

****Stop laughing.  I reclaimed my virginity in time for my wedding.

*****Neé Raven and Shadow.

******NOT a swear.  It’s a body part.