Thursday, December 16, 2010

Barry satisfying meal

[Robin Roberts] "Good Morning America!  We're here in the White House kitchen with the First Lady and celebrity chef Curtis Stone."

[MichelleO] "Oh, Curtis!  I'm such a fan!  Lemme give you a kiss!"

[Curtis] "Uh..." [tries to step back]

[MichelleO] "Too slow!  Gotcha!" [sloppy kiss on cheek] [Curtis steps off-camera and wipes face with moist towelette]

[Robin] "Anyway, we're here to see what new things Curtis has come up with to feed our kids, so they don't grow up to be fat wide-ass slobs.  Just as Nancy Reagan said 'Say No to Drugs' we're here to say 'Say No to Food that Tastes Decent.' "

[MichelleO] "That's correct.  It is a vital national security issue.  Imagine if all our Marines and Green Berets and stuff were too fat to rappel out of a helicopter?  We would be in dire danger.  Something must be done.  Even Republicans feel this is an urgent security crisis.  The Republicans proposed that we stack all the fat kids like lego blocks, on the border with Mexico.  They claim this would improve security by hindering illegal crossings and also act as a warning that they, too, could end up fat if they sneak in here.  But I don't believe in violating peoples' rights like that, so I think we should dictate their food choices instead."

[Robin] "So, Curtis, what do you have for us this morning?"

[Curtis] "Working with the parameters that the First Lady has imposed, I've..."

[President Obama, whistling "Hakuna Matata", enters] "What the?????  I come down here for an apple and I find some bloody wanker and a camera crew in my kitchen?  Explain!"

[Curtis] "Sir, everything is OK.  I'm an Aussie.  Not a Brit."

[Obama] "You come into my kitchen with your hair all going like that and try to tell me you ain't a Brit?  I don't like Brits, and that's about the Brittiest hairdo I've ever seen!"

[Curtis] "No, really, I'm from Down Under.  Kangaroos.  Wombats.  Oppressed aboriginal people.  Not the UK."

[MichelleO] "It's true, dear."

[Obama] "OK then."

[Curtis, continuing] "Within the strict price and calorie restrictions of this program, I've come up with a form of gruel.  It is a homogeneous mixture that can be served hot or cold."

[Obama, stifling laughter]

[Curtis] "Something funny, Mr. President?"

[Obama] " Heh.  'Homo Genius' was my college nickname.  I  haven't heard that in years.  Brought back some funny memories, that's all."

[MichelleO, shocked] "What??"

[Obama] "Yeah, that was a different phase of my life.  But trust me, babe.  I haven't put any faghetti sauce on my noodle for a looooonnng time."

[Robin, off camera] "Tell the guys in the truck to edit that part, K?"

[MichelleO] "Yes.  This gruel is made of barley flour, algae, and some pulverized vitamins.  It has everything a young body needs to grow.  It also tastes like crap, so they won't overeat.  Win/Win.  And we can put it in all the schools for only about $4.5 billion a year.  A bargain!"

[Robin] "Stay tuned, America!  After this commercial break, Chef Curtis will show us how to prepare $300/lb Wagyu Beef on a bed of Arugula, just the way the Obamas like it!"


  1. Inno, homo genius, and his limp noodles, very very funny! Let them eat gruel.

  2. This is TOO close to reality for me. It's hard to satirize a caricature, innit?

  3. OOOH Yummy ... Got some of that there Homo Sauce to go with it?

  4. Cooking with Michelle

  5. Really, really funny! And true. Really, really true. Darn it.

    Homo genius. There he goes, thinking he's all smart and stuff.

  6. This is a parody? OH, I see, I had to put down my gruel to read it again.

  7. What the hey?

    Robin Roberts was a pitcher for the Phillies who threw his last pitch in May, I thought?

    Innomangine my dissapointment to read on and find out about a nudder petty thought from the wide one and her accompliance in lo cal leadership.

    So where is my beef? I thought them square burgers were way hot back in the day and they sure got me thru college spam when I was tofu'ed tired of eating healthy.

    I bid thee a fond Wendy's farewell to the good ole days when a big fat meat pitch was over the plate, not stuck on the hips of the First Lady of Lippyness.

    Call me the Pete Rose of commenting, I ain't gunna get voted into the Commenters Hall of Fame.

    But I sure eat good.


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