Dianne the Fein Opposes the Empire: All Choked Up

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courtesy of William Bontrager

Dianne Feinstein, or better known as Dianne the Fein, holds a chain attached to an immigrant in a princess Leia slave outfit and sludges towards the podium. The reporters are muttering questions. Cameras are flashing in her wrinkled melting face. She grunts and tries to hold her thick hands to her face, but cannot. In her ear piece, there is a sharp demand.

“Ok Dianne the Fein. You know your role in the empire. You are to express your happiness in the rescue of the last P.O.W in Afghanistan.”

“What is happiness?” Dianne the Fein grunts.

“Start out by smiling.” The voice suggests.

Dianne the Fein shakes her massive sludgy head in confusion. The reporters are waiting to hear from her. She yanks the immigrant girl in anger by her chain. A frustrated voice sounds out in Dianne the Fein’s earpiece.

“Try to raise your cheeks, by curling your lips, and lift your eyebrows to express your friendliness towards the rebel reporters.”

“Impossible.” Dianne the Fein grimaces.

“Might I remind you Dianne, that the Senator, Harry Reid has lauded our rescue of Sergeant Bergdahl. The President Puppet has as well. All of us need to work together to quell the rebel’s claims that this man was a deserter. I would encourage you to play along, or else.”

Dianne the Fein shakes the chain angrily as photographers snap pictures. She bellows in a deep voice under hanging wrinkled flesh.

“YOO DON’T TELL FEIN WHAT TOO DOO! FEIN RULE FOR GENERATIONS! FEIN KNOW WHAT IS IN WIND! FEIN POLITIC FOR FEIN’S SURVIVAL!”

“Don’t you do anything you will regret..!” The voice in the earpiece says hurriedly.

Dianne the Fein smashes the earpiece and throws it off the stage. She roars as she jerks on the chain, and leans forward against the podium threatening to spill her onto the reporters below. Security guards run on the stage and push against her pudding-textured body. Slowly they bring her back to an upright position. Dianne the Fein looks out at the reporters with contempt with pig eyes oozing. Great slimy beads of sweat roll down her forehead.

“I TAKE QUESTIONS NOW,” the Fein grumbles.

A timid reporter speaks up.

“Dianne.  In December, Obama issued a statement that said the executive branch should have the flexibility “to act swiftly in conducting negotiations with foreign countries regarding the circumstances of detainee transfers. Were you aware of this prisoner swap at all? And if not, why not, as you are the Senate Intelligence Committee Chair- creature?”

“NOOO. NO HEAR.” Diane the Fein grumbles. The podium shakes.

A security guard gets a signal in his earpiece.

“OBAMA DO, ME NO CONSENT.” She belches out.

The reporter that asks the question is snatched up by flying drones hovering overhead.

“MORE QUESTIONS. DIANE MAKE CLEAR. NO HEAR! NO HEAR!”

Another reporter speaks up, looking carefully around him.

“Dianne. You look less melty today. Can you give me your opinion on the president’s statement that he had to act fast because they were concerned with his health?”

“HEALTH GOOD OF HIM! HIM WAS EATING STEAK.HIM WAS EATING LOBSTER. HIM WAS HAVING OWN GYM.” Dianne roars. A long bubbling stream of drool drips down from the podium and forms at the slave Leia’s bare feet.

“Are you saying that Sergeant Burgdahl was not malnourished and that his captors had him eating well and exercising? Wow. What else?” The reporter asks.

“HIM WAS GOES TO SCHOOL. HIM WAS LEARNING!” Dianne the Fein bellows. She yanks on the chain angrily. Security all around her is getting antsy. They are receiving instructions in their earpieces now.

“Whoa! Are you saying that the terrorists were giving the young man an education too? How nice of them? Tell us more Dianne the Fein.” A reporter for a small publication presses the issue.

“FATHER OF HIM, TALK CLOSE!”

“And the father of the prisoner had close contact with his son’s captors? Incredible!” The reporter almost shrieks.

Other reporters gain energy from the fiery questioning. The security guards move now. Drones appear from space and blast a few reporters into cinders. Other reporters trying to get more from the self- preserving Senator rush at her with microphones in hand. They are held back by Susan Rice Wheel Droids however. The lasers fly. Dianne knocks over the stand and rushes the security guards. She swats them away and sends them crashing against the American Flag. She wriggles her way on stage seeking escape.

“Act now,” a raspy voice sounds off in the immigrant’s ear.

“Yes, senora Rice.” The immigrant responds in broken English.

The immigrant starts choking Diane the Fein with her very own chain. The immigrant in the princess Leia outfit pulls hard. Diane struggles, grabbing at her bulbous neck, but cannot find the strength to escape it. She is old and weak from the struggle.  The last breaths go out of Diane the Fein and she drops limp to the stage. She lands with a heavy splat and oozes into a pale puddle of bubbling broth.

The security guards mop her away, as the drones are clearing the area for any dissenters. The long standing generations of Diane the Fein, and her era of politicking and rule are over under the New Empire. They do not put up with dissent, even among their own. (cue Darth Vader’s music)

 

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Michelle Obama Consumes Milkshakes and Goes Off!

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courtesy of William Bontrager

CNN Newsroom, which now resembles a living room. There are no screens, no papers in front of the reporters, just two reporters sitting on a couch.

“Hello diverse Americans, and welcome to CNN, where our slogan is, “Whoa! What are the other news organizations doing now? Oh?! Then we are too.” I am a token African American individual wearing spectacles and here is a lovely white woman at my side, reflecting our tolerance and diversity.”

The white woman smiles blankly then twitches as if shocked. The black reporter smoothly continues.

“And as you see, we are taking a page out of Fox News, and have discarded our desks for these comfortable vellum couches. We have panned the cameras back so you get a lovely view of my assistant’s legs. They are very nice. Are they real?”

The woman responds automatically, “Of course they are not.”

The black reporter continues, unfazed.

“In other news, our queen, Michelle Obama, visited a high school in Topeka to celebrate Segregation Remembrance Day.  The students thought that it was going to be a typical graduation but instead was once again enlightened by our inspiring, and very charming First Lady.”

“Yes. She created such an atmosphere of love, warmth…well, just listen to it and feel the sunny vibes.”  The woman rambles a response before remembering to cross her legs.

The cameras take us to a High School in Topeka, Kansas. Michelle Obama stands at the podium. There are empty McDonalds and Arby’s containers littered at her feet, and all over the stage. She is sweating profusely, banging her fist in frenzy.

“And my ancestors were in chains, beaten and bloody, and crying, screaming, “why, White people?! Why did you take us from our family and homes, and why are your descendants doing the same thing in this day, in this state, in this school, in this very auditorium today? Why white people?!!”

Some teens are crying in the audience. The teachers nod in vapid agreement. The school counselor in the audience looks down at his feet ashamed of his actions, which he wasn’t aware that he committed until just then. Michelle continues, trembling and pounding her fists on the podium, cracking it.

“I see it everywhere! I see it in the soda machines in your cafeteria. I see the product Yoo-Hoo being consumed with no thought. Don’t you know that the brown in that drink is what makes it delicious, and something that would taste wonderful with a cheeseburger and French fries? Yet the white distributing company doesn’t call it by its ethnicity. He doesn’t name it “yo, whassup!” He names it,”yoo-hoo, and takes credit for the chocolate’s labor! Yoo-Hoo is a slave name!” The First Lady bellows.

A woman runs away screaming, and calls to some janitor to start pushing over the soda machines. Other teachers and students are stirring to action. Some listen as if hypnotized.

“And look at the white paper you students write notes on? Look at the lined paper you conduct research with, scribble love letters with! It is white paper! Look at the pages in your textbooks? White paper! Oh, you read the black letters, but look how those black letters are enslaved to their white environment around them?! Yes, that’s right. Brown vs the Board of Education did not go far enough!”

Michelle looks around. They are drawn to her words majestically.

“Now observe your beloved, Game of Thrones. All of those people of color, the Dothraki, and they are being led by a single white person! You have George R. R. Martin profiting off the sore brown backs of this fictional race!” She roars. Sweat streams down her forehead.

She is visibly trembling now…in full rage. All around her white people are crying, other races of children are confused, and the teachers are nodding with tears in their eyes, or hanging their heads in shame.

Trembling, she takes a McDonalds chocolate milk shake from her purse, tears off the lid, and slurps it down like the way Stone Cold the wrestler guzzles beers. Then she lets out a satisfied burp, crushes the cup and tosses it on the stage.

“Now act on what I just said!” She moans, feeling strange from her fifteenth consecutive milk shake today.

Chaos erupts all around her. Teens start fighting amongst each other. Teachers are sobbing in fetal positions. Some are smashing windows, tearing textbooks, and trying to angrily tweet George R. R. Martin. She looks at this satisfied, and feels herself calming from the artificial sugars and chemicals in her milkshake. She calls it a “shake stupor.”

“We are done here gentlemen. I need to gets me a McGriddle! Holla!”

Michelle Obama lazily strides off the stage. In the distance two teachers are clawing each other and ripping each other’s hair out.

Back to the CNN Newsroom

“What an inspiring speech by the first lady. My heart is breaking. What about you token black reporter wearing spectacles?

“I am moved beyond words, mindless white woman. By the way is your heart even real?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Thank you, diverse Americans, for making CNN your fourth, fifth, sixth, or eighth choice of where you get your news from. Good night,” he says.

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