LAST EDITED ON 05-27-17 AT 02:37 PM (EST)LAST EDITED ON 05-26-17 AT 12:47 PM (EST)
As you all know, I won the election, I got all the male votes, all the female votes, all the eskimo votes, and all the votes from the Red Wig Society. I got them all. And I’m ahead in all the Trump University polls. Anyone who says different is fired - at - cause now I have an Army.
But Democrats passed an amendment that prohibits me from being a dictator for life, so in preparation for my retirement years, I founded the “Foonerville Than Laterville Daily News Picayune” which will publish all the news from Foonerville which tells you how tremendous I am and about my tremendous people. Until they get fired.
I will have my predecessor, Pornstache chained to his desk cranking out the most tremendous Spoilers you ever saw, along with his (and my) band of super slithery sexy but sublimely gorgeous girl honey pot reporters who are willing to get down and do the dirty to get those spoilers. They are all very very really really raunchy, and all are graduates of the Really Really Raunchy Girl Sleuthing College of Maximum Penetration and all have PhD’s in Moped Modification for maximum noise.
Assisting him will be Junior Cub reporter Brownroach. Mr. Brownroach earned his chops on the streets of New York, which might seem to be a bit of a nonfit for intelligence gathering on a South Pacific Island, but the same sewer rats occupy both places, and he has proven that he has the sand to do this job. Or, of course, he’s fired.
Assistant to the assistant will be a research assistant, Mr. Cahaya, who speaks that gobblegook that fake news tries to tell you is a language in parts of Malaysia, and who also has the Library of Congress in his laptop for when he needs to look up why I am so great a leader. A very great leader. He will find the facts that I agree with. Or, of course, he’s fired.
Mr. Fooner will be managing editor. And he is mayor of Foonerville.
Funny story, on one sunny afternoon Fooner and I were supervising the quality control of the final product of the still, checking it very intensely and repetitively just to make sure it was exactly right, and he says to me "Mishter, Cheeto, why don't we have my name in the title of our (burp) paper?" To which I replied, "Thash shilly Fooner, ole buddy boy, it should have my name, so lesh drink to that." When I woke up a few hours later, it had Fooner's name, I had my pants down around my ankles, and a note saying something about digital pictures and the internet and a Donkey show. So I decided that his name looked good up there.
Being Mayor makes it convenient for him to work on that aforementioned still out behind the shed we call our town hall. It’s also the place where he and I and Kingfish work out what the real fake news of the day will be. Or, of course, they be fired.
We have a backup editor who also covers the crime beat. Mz. Greenmachine. Mz. Machine (we call her Greenie - when she’s not around. We learned one day that she has an impressive and lighting quick right cross and that she doesn’t really like to be called Greenie. Mr. Cahaya was in a coma for three days). She also has a drinking problem, and accounts for a considerable drain on the vats. It’s ok, we all respect that right cross. I’ll have to use my Navy and a few detachments of Marines if I have to fire her.
Unfortunately, my chief intelligence officer, Mz. Bebo, is still in Russia getting advice (and a little cash, hey, it ain’t cheap, this here Daily Picayune, not when real fake news so hard to fake. No sir. My pal Putin just chips in once in a while, and an office Brown Bag Intelligence Officer is a basic requirement) and is still returning from assignment, so she can’t tell me in person this week about how super a job I’m doing, or about the masterful way I’m handling this here English language. Also she flies coach, or, of course, she’s fired. (Yeah yeah, 12 hours in the air on an overbooked smelly Russian plane, bad back, varicose veines, heart palpitations, yeah yeah, call the Whaaambulance, see if they care.)
Left over from the previous administration but retained, just because, is the head of the Dominatrix Department, Mz. Flowerpower. Leather and Lace and all things domineering, she provides an outlet for the stress that this department seems to need. She often asks me if I’d rather be tied up and suspended from the ceiling, or if I’d rather be whipped. I say of course it's your choice, mistress. But maybe a twofer this time?
Mr. Cold Brewer is Brewmeister Fooner’s hunchback assistant. And if he blows up anymore stills, well, of course, he’s fired. He drags his leg because of an injury sustained during an over-enthusiastic session with Mz. Flowerpower. It’s really too bad that I had to drop him (and everyone else but my family) from healthcare. Those bones will just have to heal on their own, besides, those kinks make you unique, embrace them. Or you're fired.
Michel2 (son of Michel1, in Canada they just number their familial descendants, they don’t use Jr. or Sr. designations. I know, that’s weird, but you know how Canadians are) operates the mimeograph machine. I was going to fire him because of the way he looked at me funny like, until someone told me that his tie got caught in the machine once and ever since he’s looked at the world with a crooked smile on a crooked neck. I may have to fire him someday, but he’s cheap labor having crawled under the Canadian Wall and never having applied for a green card. I could so fire that guy, any time I want.
Murph the Surf. My source for the gifts of jewelry that I lavish on my wife, Malaise. And occasionally my daughter Ivanta, although with her it’s a bribe for not telling about certain booby grabbing events after state dinners lubricated with the products of my distillery. Hey, what father would ignore his own daughter, I ask you? Anyway, women like that.
It’s fitting that the poor people of Foonerville should suffer in order to allow me to have a tall exotic Slavic model for a wife. Everyone tells me that. Everyone that doesn’t want to be fired.
Finally, rounding out the staff here at the Daily Picayune (BTW, daily means once in a while), is CT Girl. A beginning girl reporter from Connecticut when she first applied, with a degree that had the ink still drying on it from the RRR Raunchy Girls Finishing school of Fine Farts and Frequent Underwear changes, she chose a different path from the other girls, but I hired her anyway. I am optimistic that given enough time, that she will become as raunchy as the rest of us. Or, of course, she'll be fired.
That’s was the real news, but here are a few spoilers just to keep up the appearance of being a spoiler column.
Foonerville etc., Picayune Spoiler #1: Brad bullied Tai, and he lost. Tai cried piteously, and he lost for being a wimp, but the whole world spits in the face of Brad. Pitooy!
Foonerville etc., Picayune Spoiler #2: Sarah, the lady cop with the Police Woman’s “Cop Stare”, is now off of Prostitute duty. With a million dollars she no longer has to walk the seedy streets of wherever she’s from and lure horny Asian gentlemen into sniffing her panties in hotel rooms where they can be arrested. The good lord works in mysterious ways.
Foonerville etc., Picayune Spoiler #3: The only Survivor at F6 TC who didn’t have immunity was Cirie so Jeff said she had to go home. The camera man offered to give her one of the ones he found, but Jeff said no. If Cirie got immunity, Jeff would have had to have been evicted. However, Jeff did give her hug at the Reunion, so I guess she doesn’t mind being screwed out of a Million bucks. She also got a plaque in the Port-a-potty behind the stage.
Foonerville etc., Picayune Spoiler #4: Zeke will always be Pornstache to me.
Foonerville etc., Picayune Spoiler #5: Brad’s view of himself was reflected at F3 when he wore his Burlap Toga; “Hail Caesar, give me your poor, your unwanted and your Hidden idols, or I will sic the Roman Armies on you and step on your head as I cross the Rubicon to a Million dollars.”
Foonerville etc., Picayune Spoiler #6: After her previous season which included her metamorphosis from shocked and scared Survivor underdog to dominate player, I hoped and expected Audry to do better. She is intelligent and had a sly and effective social game that allowed her to overcome some bad breaks, and she was enough of a challenge beast to allow her to win a crucial immunity, but she couldn't make it over the hump and win the Mill. I still think she has what it takes, and I am a big fan of stories requiring people to find inner strengths that we and they did not think they had, so I hope she can return.
Would also like to see Michaela again, girl has spunk and a magnificent smile. She has to become a bit more cynical and less of a follower to win, but here's hoping she can return.
Tribe, you have mail! We need a forwarding address.
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