23
Nov
11

novelty gallagher mullet mirror

First of all, I’d like to thank the fine folks at the Center for American Regression for hosting this fundraising dinner, but mostly I’d like to thank you, the outstanding Admiral’s Club-level donors that make up my core constituency. Every time I return here to my home district, I feel so grateful to be a six-time incumbent, because it means I no longer have to have to shake the germ-laden hands of our fair district’s many non-millionaires, thanks to my near universal name recognition.

While this event is not open to the press, I would like to take a minute to address the allegations made by my opponent in next year’s upcoming race. You know, folks, I wear a lot of hats in Washington: senior member of the ignorance committee, unofficial congressional liaison to the international underground human organ trade, fixture on the Sunday talk shows when they need someone to advocate against child labor laws. I take every one of these roles very seriously, as well as a few others: straight shooter, no-nonsense negotiator, common sense everyman. One thing I am not, however, is two goats stacked on top of each other, then somehow stuffed inside a Brooks Brothers suit.

See, what the elites don’t want you to know is that I’m up there fighting for our nation’s most productive citizens, who otherwise wouldn’t have a voice in Washington due to the time-consuming task of generating every bit of wealth that their shareholders are entitled to. So they focus on divisive distractions, like this loop of rope tied around my neck. Of course, they conveniently leave out details that don’t fit their pre-crafted narrative, like the fact that the end of this rope is chewed off, unlike the invisible rope around my opponent’s neck, which remains tightly tethered to special interest groups like the powerful solar energy lobby. And not even the strongest goat teeth can chew through that rope, friends.

We must be vigilant, as our cause is now under grave threat from forces determined to destroy everything we’ve worked for, using insidious tactics like a whisper campaign insinuating that the real Rep. Stonesworthy died of a massive cocaine overdose in a swank Georgetown hotel room hosting one of his quarterly hooker summits, and that his campaign decided the most practical replacement this close to election season was a couple of farm animals with a device cleverly planted on them to deliver prerecorded speeches while the top one licks peanut butter off the roof of his mouth to make it look like he’s talking. Once again, thanks for supporting our re-election campaign. Take this opportunity to do a little networking, and of course, feel free to order another $300 plate of veal parmigiana. I hear it’s delicious, but I filled up on tin cans during the limo ride over here.

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