The Peace Moonbeam Chronicles

What Happened Was This

May 30, 2008

Berkeley, California

This week ex-Bush Press Secretary Scott McClellan's tell-all book "What Happened" was released to huge fanfare. Scooter came over Wednesday morning with a copy and breathlessly exclaimed this was his "ticket to the easy life." Sometimes Scooter gets like this when he's had too many Mountain Dews for breakfast. When he finally calmed down, he explained that the whole country was talking about this book and it was selling like Love Lube at a Gay Pride parade.

It took me a bit to finally understand that Scooter wasn't excited about the dirt this book dished on Chimpy McHitler, but rather the huge money that could be made on an insider's down-and-dirty account of a popular political figure. My worst fears were realized when Scooter produced several Big Chief tablet pages titled "What Happened Was This by Obama campaign insider, Scooter Van Neuter." Oh great.

I was anxious to see what kind of shocking expose could come out of Scooter's roughly two week's employment with the Obama campaign. I started reading:

Senator Obama sells himself as the candidate of change, but the man I worked for didn't even change his underwear that often. I also noticed he didn't change his car's oil at the manufacturer's recommended intervals, and rarely, if ever, changed his mind. One day I asked Hussein for three quarters so I could buy a U.S. Today, and he didn't have it. Candidate of change? I think not!

Although I believe Senator Obama to be a basically decent man, there's no doubt he's been led astray by the people he surrounds himself with: his minister, evil wife Michelle, and black activist friends to name just a few. Many a night I remember hanging out in the hot tub doing tequila shots and PCP with Barack, Michelle, Louis Farrakhan, and Reverend Wright. They spent most of their time talking about harming white people, specifically me. Once Reverend Wright kicked me in the nuts just for fun, something I'm sure he wouldn't have done if I were black, or at least more muscular. 

To all the world Michelle seems like an educated, well-spoken candidate's wife, and in some ways that's almost true. In character with her "I've never been proud of this country" remarks, behind closed doors Michelle displays an incredible hatred for this country, primarily focused toward white males in general, and me in particular. After an unfortunate incident with a kielbasa, she once referred to me as a "retarded pervert," a comment that pretty much says, "I hate America and everything it stands for." The thought of this vicious commie skank becoming First Lady gives me colon-clench like you can't believe....

I didn't need to read any further to know (a) this was absolutely awful (b) probably 85% made up, and (c) the makings of a best seller. After negotiating with Scooter for a cut of the profits and getting his promise to leave my name out of this steaming pile of literary pony-loaf, I placed an urgent call to a publisher friend of mine.

 

 

Operation Scooter Save

May 23, 2008

Berkeley, California

I'd had enough of Scooter's ridiculous support and adoration for John McCain, and this week put in motion a plan to rescue my deluded friend from his conservative hell.  

After intense planning and calculation, I engineered a course of action guaranteed to succeed, provided every step was unerringly executed with clockwork precision. After days of intense preparation, my elite hand-picked team sprang into action last Tuesday at 11:01 a.m. sharp. Operation Scooter Save was in motion!

11:01 a.m. Pepe, disguised as a Caucasian businessman, leaves the post office with a registered package sent by George Soros (head of MoveOn.org) at my request.

11:23 a.m. Pepe arrives at the park and after placing the package in a crumpled sack, leaves it in the trash can by the softball field.

11:25 a.m. Pepe's cousin Hector, dressed as a park maintenance worker (he is a park maintenance worker), empties the trash can into the back of his utility vehicle, then drives to the parking lot by the tennis court where his nephew Sonny rides by slowly on a motorcycle and grabs the sack, then proceeds to the Quiznos sandwich shop by my house.

11:39 a.m. Once at Quiznos, Sonny orders a tuna salad sandwich, then slips the package to the cashier with his money. The cashier (Pepe's Aunt Cecilia) then places the package in a Quiznos wrapper and hands it to the next person in line, my little nephew Bobby, disguised as a midget accountant having lunch. Bobby takes the package and rides his bike to the Doubletree Berkeley Marina Hotel.

11:58 a.m. Bobby arrives at the Doubletree Hotel parking lot and hands the package to Pepe's cousin Juanita, playing the part of a loose Republican named "Sexi." She goes into the hotel bar and takes a seat at the third table from the door.

12:23 p.m. Scooter arrives at the hotel bar to meet a girl he's been having phone sex with since hooking up at the "McCain 2008" web site forum. He introduces himself, presents her with a partially-melted chocolate bunny, then takes a seat after an unsuccessful awkward attempt to kiss her.

1:30 p.m. After having drinks, Juanita says she's hungry and suggests they go out to her car to eat some sandwiches she brought. Scooter readily agrees.

1:34 p.m. Once in the car, the the effects of the six Kahlua and creme de cacao cocktails he's had predictably cause Scooter to aggressively kiss and grope Juanita.

1:35 p.m. When Scooter removes his pants Juanita snaps a quick photo with her cell phone camera, then hands him the package. Scooter opens it to find a note informing him that Sexi is in fact only thirteen years old and is the daughter of Stone Phillips, host of Dateline's "To Catch a Predator."

1:42 p.m. After regaining consciousness, Scooter continues reading the note, which tells him he will not be reported if he swears to denounce John McCain and heartily supports Barack Obama for President. As an added incentive, there is a bundle of cash, new tee shirt, and a bag of Gummi Bears, Scooter's favorite food.

1:43 p.m. Juanita exits the car, leaving a shaken but relieved Scooter wearing an "Obama '08" tee shirt, eating Gummi Bears, and clutching $22 in cash.

1:45 p.m. Juanita phones me with the news that Operation Scooter Save has been a success.

 I love it when a plan comes together.

On The Campaign Trail With Scooter McCain

May 15, 2008

Berkeley, California

OK, Scooter's psychotic empathizing with John McCain has gotten totally out of hand. It's one thing to adopt the hairstyle or even mild mannerisms of somebody one admires, but Scooter's total metamorphosis into McCain by way of elaborate theatrical makeup, wardrobe, acting, and vocal inflections is beyond weird.

Yesterday we went shopping at the mall, and while there Scooter probably signed over a hundred autographs as Senator McCain. Later at the urging of onlookers he even gave an impromptu speech from atop a table at the food court. After flashing some very realistic Vietnam torture scars, Scooter McCain spoke out against the presumed Democratic challenger, Barack Hussein. He accused Obama of being "a space alien sent to enslave the white middle class" and other things, some of which I think he just made up. While the audience enthusiastically ate it up, I watched from inside The Gap so as not to be associated with the whole retarded charade.

Everything was going surprisingly well - Scooter is actually a much more entertaining speaker than the real McCain, employing an intriguing mix of blusterous bravado, graphic tales of jungle torture, and the liberal use of gutter profanity to keep his audience's attention. It wasn't until an Asian man waving a Sharpie approached Scooter McCain for an autograph that things went horribly wrong.

Obviously suffering an empathetic flashback from the savage imaginary torture he would have received years earlier, Scooter grabbed the man by the hair and repeatedly rammed his head into a Orange Julius slurpie machine, as the guy's wheelchair careened into a group of Young Republicans! Holy Pope-on-a-rope! Fortunately, mall security guards arrested Scooter before he killed the little guy or irreversibly damaged the delicious frozen delight-dispensing device. Later the cops released him after he signed some autographs and posed for photos.

This can't go on any longer, either Scooter snaps out of it, or I'm getting a new friend and assistant. I'm serious.

Something Pale This Way Comes

May 9, 2008

Berkeley, California

Being around Scooter has become increasingly difficult since he's thrown his support behind that crabby old conservative, John McCain. Pepe and I have spent hours trying to reason with Scooter, explaining how McCain won't retreat from Iraq, raise taxes, give us free health care, etc. While agreeing this is probably true, Scooter claims the angry old albino is still better than either a "serial liar or racist ex-crack addict who wants to change things but won't say what things or how he's going to change them." Obviously, Scooter's been listening to too much talk radio.

Pepe and I planned to take him to the park for a Code Pink antiwar protest, figuring the protesters would be a positive influence and hopefully re-ignite Scooter's deep-seated hatred for the war and the conservatives that started it. Pepe picked me up at my place, then we headed to Scooter's squalid rental house. Upon arriving, both of us were amazed that Scooter had actually done some painting, picked up most of the beer cans and larger pieces of garbage, and even mowed the few patches of weeds and crabgrass he calls a yard. It almost looked respectable except for the gaggle of "McCain for President" signs in the front yard and the huge new flag waving from a piece of pipe he had duct-taped to the side of his house.

Not wanting to be seen anywhere close to the signs, Pepe honked the horn to alert the conservative pinhead to our presence. What happened next was like something out of an old "Twilight Zone": Scooter came through the front door wearing a suit and tie(!), and as bizarre as that was, it was his ghostly pale complexion and short, white hair that prompted Pepe to scream something in Spanish, throw the car into gear and step on the gas, leaving Scooter in a cloud of acrid blue smoke. With his usual dramatic flair, Scooter had transformed himself into a retarded parody of his candidate and idol, John McCain! In an effort to get his image out of our heads, we went back to my place and drank the rest of the afternoon.

Pepe is too scared to go back, so it's going to be up to me to somehow deprogram Scooter before he joins a country club, or something worse.

A Liberal Loss of Faith

May 2, 2008

Berkeley, California

Something strange happened the other day. Scooter and I were hanging out at Pepe's place, doing some mushrooms and tequila while celebrating the absolute certainty that there will soon be a Democrat in the White House. Pepe had CNN on and we were watching Barack Hussein reply to the latest wacko statements made by his ex-minister. In rebuking the man Obama had recently referred to as a "father figure," Barack not only threw Dad under the bus, but backed over him repeatedly until all that remained was a putrid stain on the pavement. I thought this was a good move by Hussein, but Scooter evidently thought otherwise.

Obviously still pissed-off over Barack's firing him, a drunken Scooter angrily dismissed Obama's actions and said he hoped Hillary would "club him like a baby seal." This prompted an even-drunker Pepe to proclaim that "only a fool would think that a lying phony with huge calves like Hillary would ever deserve to be elected President." Over the next hour, these two pinnacles of political intelligence argued over which of their two candidates were the phoniest and most dishonest. Finally I had to diffuse the situation, as Scooter and Pepe were getting pretty worked up.

"At least either of them is better than some cranky old albino war hero whose only claim to fame is he's an honest centrist," I said, laughing. Pepe murmured in agreement, but Scooter just stared off in the distance, like he was in a trance or something. "Scoots," I said, "what's the matter?" He finally turned to me, and with tears welling in his bloodshot eyes blurted out, "I CAN"T DO IT, I HATE BOTH OF THESE FREAKING BOZOS! I'm...I'm voting for the albino..." He got up and left Pepe and I staring at each other in numb disbelief.

Later when I went by Scooter's place to see if he'd sobered up yet, I noticed he'd put a McCain sticker over the Hillary sticker he'd put over the Obama sticker. This was serious. I went home to think about what I could do to rescue my friend.