Guys! This coming Tuesday, November 6, is election night (watch it on all major networks, 7 pm)… AND WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT A FEW THINGS.
Thing One: A significant number of you have already informed me you will NOT be having sex with me that night. This is a problem. On election night in 2008, many of you were so ecstatic about Barack Obama becoming president, you formed a long, but orderly line to have sex with me. But now that we’re four years in, and President Obama hasn’t exactly turned out to be as awesome as many of you had hoped, you’re no longer squealing about the prospects of another Obama term, and both your enthusiasm and horniness are muted. However…
PRESIDENT OBAMA IS NOT MY FAULT. Hey, I did MY job over the last four years… pleasuring each and every one of you to the best of my epic abilities. I upheld my end of the bargain! So even if the President isn’t a magical unicorn genie who shoots sparkly rainbows and Skittles out of his bottom, I am STILL Wm.™ Steven Humphrey—and I STILL love you, long, LONG time. Thank you, and please form a long, orderly line to the left.
Thing Two: Election night can be nerve-wracking, and not everyone can have access to my genitalia. Let’s say you’re an Obama supporter. On election night, you’ll probably be biting your toenails and squealing, “Omigod, if Romney gets elected, he’s going to remove my ovaries and sell them to China. Then he’s going to take that money, and put it in an off-shore bank that invests in ovary removing equipment.” And if you’re a Romney supporter, you’ll be equally nervous, squeaking, “Oh butter my bee-hind and call me a biscuit—if that there Obama bin Laden feller from Kenya gits e-lected again, his Obamacare is gonna make me marry my pig. And ah’d rather keep our relationship loose for the time bein’.
Well, if things get too nerve-wracking for you, try the following calming exercises: 1) Bury yourself under six feet of loose dirt. You’ll be amazed how quickly you’ll forget about the election! 2) Roofie yourself. Roofies aren’t just for “those people” anymore. Take one roofie, and then when you wake up, take another. Keep taking them until 2016—at which point there will be another election, and you can repeat the process.
Thing three: No matter who wins, YOU win. While you may threaten to move to Canada, the people being bombed by their government in Syria don’t really have that option. Soooo… at least you’re not being bombed in your sleep, amirite? Or, think about it this way: If the person you wanted didn’t win, you have at least four years of crying foul, thinking up insulting bumper stickers, nitpicking every decision, and saying, “See? SEE? SEE?” whenever their guy does the slightest thing wrong. IT’S FUN. Because if there’s one thing that Americans love better than winning, it’s complaining about not winning. And if there’s another thing that Americans love more than winning, it’s have post-electoral sex with me.
Again, the line forms to the left.
Elect me as your fave Twitter pal. @WmSteveHumphrey