Zingers… and The Next Debate

Zingers… and The Next Debate
President Obama’s cringe-worthy, zingerless debate with Mitt the Re-Born Moderate can serve to give him and his advisors the courage to plot a new Zinger-filled strategy for his next encounter with RoboRom. I kept shouting at friends while watching Obama’s dismal limp performance that he was only playing, a la Ali,  a Ropa-Dope strategy.. letting RoboRom wear himself out with his weary punches only to push off in the last rounds in a flurry of crisp and unrelenting flicks, jabs, lefts, rights, body blows and a coup de gras to Romney’s circuit board lit crainium. But no Ropa-dope. Just  bent over defeated eyes cast down in a ” just let me go home and sleep..yo Michelle, let’s doit again-in-morn” body language. 
An acquaintance in Kansas City, MO, Wayne Bowser, held a debate-night gathering anticipating a zinger cream-filled evening requiring his guests to eat a Hostess Zinger (which he served in abundant amounts) each time O or R served up a debate zinger. Needless (yet required) to say, Bowser will be  doling out left-over twin Zingers to his two twin teenage sons for breakfast, lunch & dinner until at least November 6th. 
Maybe if Obama had partaken in a cream-filled Zinger or two before the debate instead of early-celebrating his wedding anniversary…jeez, even cauliflowered-eared brain-addled boxers know not to have sex the night before, let alone right before you climb into the ring…he might have been sugar-energized enough to un-clog his sex-weakened brain. Sex makes the legs weak. Brain too. Obama drowning in post-coital endorphins.. every other word an “uh”… Surprised he didn’t whisper to Romney “I love u too baby….” Holy Sheet. Worst. Debate. Performance. Ever. (Sorry for use of: most. trite. construction. ever.)
So, next debate. Let the zingers fly. Here are ten zinger suggestions for Obama.. an Obama who will be sex-starved, edgy, angry ( yeah First Dude.. channel your inner Samuel L. Jackson), cold-blooded and thirsty and hungry to kill anything standing behind a podium or within ten feet of Your Personal Presidential Space. 
Zinger # 1: Well, there you go a Bain! 
Zinger # 2: I knew Snooki…and Sir, you are no Snooki ! 
Zinger # 2: Don’t go get’n your  Magic Morman underpants all in a knot. 
Zinger #3: Govna… I knew Honey Boo Boo… And Sir, you are no Honey Boo Boo !
Zinger # 4: Govanur, You need to put on your Big Boy Magic Morman Underpants. 
Zinger # 5: Yeah, you and the Dressage horse you rode in on.
Zinger # 6: You and your One Per%ers deserve a tax reduction like Todd Akin deserves an Award from the National Organization of Women. 
Zinger # 7: You have flip-flopped so often that Sea World stock just tripled. And so has the world beach sandal industry. 
Zinger # 8: Your hair has been dyed so much that it could serve on a death panel. 
Zinger # 9: And yo Mama.. jeans. 
Zinger # 10: You been more brainwashed by the Tea Party than your daddy was brainwashed by Vietnam.

Author: Lawrence Rudmann

Multi-genre comedic political poet and trender/periscoper of what's around the corner. Avid tennis player and ukulele strummer. Comedic poetry stimulator and healer.

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