Presi-dental Undress to denizens of World State America
As your ruler. I Break His Oath, invoke executive privilege with a stroke of my pen, your now mine. Stop bitching and toe the line. The gall of inferior minds questioning hope and change. I’ve somewhat tolerated insurrections, disrespect, shown me, by you, for far to long. The buck stops here. I control whether or not you’ll see another one.
I paused, to allow your crimes result, enough to sink into those thick heads. Five years now of listening to your damn bellyaching is enough. Stand down, or plan on entering green coffins in graves, I will block your mourners from, again. Patience is limited, your Lord knows I’m sick from it. My games off. You bust my peps balls defiantly for the last time. The days of you running of at the mouth are over. You’ll do as we say, when your told, or face the consequences, for your disloyalty. The gloves are off, my claws revealed.
This middle one here is the chance to fall in line you have, and this other hand, is the only right your going to get, across the face if I hear your yap. Call your lap dogs up right now telling them to back the frig up, or I’ll toss the lot. I certainly don’t need to be slowed down, by their slight interruptions of the master plan, or daring to inquire from my bro’s and Ho’s included. This is O’s Hood now. I cap everything. Bake and shake the rules. Not Uncle Sam.
Get your ass on board or we’ll toss you into such a sea of desperation, you’ll grab our hand to keep afloat. I use that choice of wording for you gun touting members of my military so you’ll think twice, before I Benghazi your ass’s. When I say shoot you ask not who, but only if I want any survivors, period. I’ll kick your cans down the road to unemployment just like those other saps. I own your ass. I’ll dress you up as I chose, and you’ll kiss each other, along with Master’s ass, and love it. You had better get the old fart vets inline too, I’m holding you accountable.
And all you foreign pricks at my UN building, or lounging on your peasants labors, back my ass. Were in this WORLD together. Why’s the Big O got to be out front on this? Have you told your motley crews? For Christ’s displeasure, grow a pair. Your starting to piss me off too. Mamby pamby crap is lame. Give em the jizil. Set them suckers straight. Or I might lead your sorry ass country’s too. Screw the deal. I’ve got the bigger stick, and Daddy’s gonna put you on this here lap, if you don’t hurry it up.
Now back to you peons, SHUT THE FUCK UP! That’s right Bitch’s, I gots your freedom of speech by the throat, suck it up. No teleprompter, I now speak from my blackened heart, from no longer needed, lying lips. Enough was enough. First you bug my replacement, Queen Hitlery over dead shit, that quite frankly don’t matter now, or then. I’ll let her deal with you on that, but while I’m pulling the strings, you’ll shut your pie holes, and give the bitch a break. Got it! That goes for all my crew, especially Jay, not my man Z ( YO- SHOUT OUT BROTHA- HOLLA BACK), Carnival Barker Carney. You frazzle him, we know all about you. Understand?
My predecessors put up with your belly aching for their own reasons. I accept no treason’s! No three strikes your out, I’ll drone your ass eating pizza. Your peps too. My boys are everywhere, like that God I got rid of, only real. You won’t deny me any longer. I’m getting grey, feeling foolish for putting up with you for so long. So so long sucka’s to that crap. You’ll do as we say, not as we do, and be frigging grateful you got a loaf of bread. That shit ain’t free. If you want to keep your same eating plan, don’t talk with your mouth half full. PERIOD!
PERIOD’S! They not only end sentences, but periods to, they include times, your fun times over. Starting January 1, 2014 anyone not on my OATH-CARE program, won’t have long to comply. WON’T! Don’t make me say it a third time, or a third term I’ll keep. I’ll whip you in inline for Hitlary, and our boy’s. Stack a few more gold bars, make your dollar penny’s, and divide you up more than before. It’s time you woke up from this fairy land. Imagined freedoms and all that nonsense. Who do you know has ever been?
Now don’t get Big Daddy wrong. I’m not the bad guy here. You are. This shits all on you. You’re the ones responsible for the last spanking. Only a few foolish vets, tried to ruin it for you. Giving you false hopes should be a crime. I’m working on the wording now to correct that, and refilled my pen. A lot of shit is ending now. You made Daddy mad. Done pissed me off. Publicly. Some patriots left over from the past blogging. Causing you pain. Stop them too, or go to your room without supper tonight. Time outs to good for you.
They’ll soon be gone. NSA, IRS, my collectors, have their IP’S. What’s theirs will soon be yours. My peps will share, after a slight vig, what the rich have amassed, and these pesky bloggers owned. Go ahead say it. “OATH IS DA MAN!” AGAIN, I can’t hear you! One mo time with gusto! Now that’s better. I hear you. Daddy’s proud of his street urchins. One lump of sugar allotted. You keep toeing the line like this, with Holiday time encroaching upon my plan, you may get two.
I have to run now. Make up takes longer these days. Look at the wrinkles you’ve placed upon the anointed one. You should all be feeling ashamed of yourselves. Daddy’s a frigging Rock Star! I have to look my best.
Yours Unruly, Break His Oath, Massa of THE WORLD STATE AMERICA
Disclaimer- Purely coincidental resemblance to anyone foolish enough to admit it’s them.That’s my story and I’m sticking with it, and you!