Concession?

Well fuck its now December. That means its been a while since we talked right? Well I’m a busy motherfucker. In case you forgot, I was running for president there.

That’s right, little girls. If you’ll recall, in October of 2010, I, the critic, launched a campaign for President of the United States of America. By now you may have realized through shitty media that my bid lost. But it didn’t exactly lose.. per say.. Not how you think. So, in light of the events that November brought, I thought it might be fun to recap two years of hard work by a lot of people other than me and give out the proper thanks where it is due.

I lived this epic ride of doom, bitch. Of course I have credentials. All this shit happened to me. So this blog of truth is not so much a lesson in reality as it is a lesson of history. My history for the last two years on the campaign trail. This is an emotional tail, so get some fucking tissues. This shit is way more real than twilight.

 

Oh, I should sidebar this shit. Yeah, I said sidebar. You may have noticed in my last blog I didn’t give you a tip on surviving the zombie apocalypse. I think this may have severely hindered my chances at the presidency. You see, I did this out of.. well lets face it, it didn’t go with the flow of my last blog. I could do one here? Even thought the campaign is over. You want it? Of course you do, you dirty whore. One last time for memories sake then. Here you go.

Get good at running.

Yeah, it was short but way fucking sweet. Really, you were hoping I’d take care of your needs but I was just out to satisfy myself. Hurts right? Whatever. You got yours too, I know you did. Sluts.

So where was I? Ahh yes, the beginning of our campaign. October 2010 is when I announced my candidacy. Immediately I was selected as the candidate for the Truth Party. We have a cool logo too. But its not a fucking elephant or donkey. Oh no.

Yeah, a fuckin lion. Which can eat a donkey or an elephant. But not a tiger. Noting can defeat a tiger. Ever.

Anywho, so back to the tale. Based on my years of political work in the country I’m king of and my tons of weird ass experience through history, my advisors felt it safe to launch this campaign with an epic chance of victory because.. well.. the opposition… well they’re all fucking cunts, right? Of course they are. So that’s why we did it. Our early rallies and such were such wide huge successes that we adopted a victory sign which is common among winners in history.

It didn’t take long before we came up with a cool ass logo. Something simple, to the point and something that would grab peoples tits attention.

This same logo would be used time and time again. I gave you my real name at first, cr1ck3e, so you’d all know who you were voting for. As this year dawned anew and we drew closer to the election, my advisors told me I should change this logo. I told them to go impale their dicks on a  cocktail sword. They didn’t like that. We needed a more grown up look, apparently. So we struck our lot with the old motherfuckers in this country and went for the more mature look. I thought it turned out pretty alright. Fuck it, whatever.

Also, my promiscuous behavior became a problem. Tabloids everywhere linked me to having all kinds of sexual escapades. You’ll notice that our comment on this was “We do not address media trash like this. It is not newsworthy nor worth our time.” – That worked out pretty well. Plus if anyone asked me about it I’d just slap them. How do you like that bitch? It’s a good thing I have a lawyer.

No, with all this gallivanting about, it was time for the critic to settle down with someone who has class, and elegance, and solid moral fiber. Someone who everyone looks up to, wants to be like. Someone who would make a perfect first lady. I picked the only sensible person I could.  The only logical choice. Kim Kardashian.

Check it out, I haven’t used that graphic in a fucking long time. Anyways, post election Kim and I broke up, I’m sorry to say. My heart will never be the same. Unless Pamela Anderson wants to get frisky. Maybe I should have picked her as a wife. She’s from Canadia. Canadia is socialist. That could have pulled not only the socialist, but the democrat vote as well. Fuck man. Good ideas always come too late. And she’s a classy lady too. I really fucked up on that one. Good news though, this little paragraph has given me a good reason to put up a Pamela picture. PAMELA AND KIM IN THE SAME BLOG. You’re fucking welcome.

 

Anyway, I need a snack. Shut the fuck up, I do what I like.

Ahh now I’m full. So I’m fucking back. Where were we? Ah yes, the campaign.

So we started our ads running against the competition and I think we had a great slogan. I mean really what most people run on is the same premise but they don’t tell the truth. That’s kind of the jist with our party. Telling the truth. So we did.

But then the unexpected happened.
Not that unexpected really. We were prepared for all kinds of negative ads. Ads saying how unreliable I am.. or how I don’t understand socialism. Or crazy right wing let God run your emotions crap. We were ready for anything the opposition had to throw at us.. except this.

How they dug up that picture of me with the Scottish Turban is beyond me. Furthermore, the fact that they used it is absofuckinglutely deplorable. Assholes. But, whatever, we didn’t let that keep us from the goal, so we decided we needed some celebrity power. An endorser who is know for their brain, logical thinking, and sound mentality to really give us an edge. We picked the only choice possible. Megan Fox.

It was a close race still. I was a bit shocked as to how this was even possible. What with the celebrity power we had behind us, man, I thought this fucking train was running away, yet still it was close. But then I did the thing that would set me over the top for good. The VP Candidate. Like everyone normally does in a race like this I picked my running mate in secret. But, it was leaked. Of course. Because of the fucking internet. So we had to make our intentions known to the world. I did it through social media.

That’s right, bitches. If anyone knows the truth as well as I do. Its Mr. T. He’s always pitying foos for their lack of knowledge. Telling kids to stay in school, and he’s a bad motherfucker. What else would America need? Fucking NOTHING bitch!

So we started a new approach this year, talking about the apocalypse in just a couple weeks now, and we used that spin for our political uses. Because that’s what fucking politicians do. We find shit that’s happened, or going to happen, and we use it to our own advantage. That’s how it fucking works.

Everything was going great. Then.. the trouble started. Apparently there is a flaw in the constitution that says you have to be at least the age of 35 to become president. Despite the fact that I am, like Dick Clark once was, the Highlander, and really hundreds of years old, I can’t tell everyone that. I only tell you that. Because I love you.

A lot.

No seriously.

No there’s no one else.

Promise.

So with this bullshit in the constitution, I apparently could not become president. Apparently these motherfuckers don’t know me very well, so I appealed. The national stage was set for the idiot who won the election and the idiot who tried to beat him. When I appealed to the debate committee they told me I could not join in on a three way. Apparently it IS gay when its in a three way. With three guys. Who are all politicians. Whatever. So I challenged them to a dual, 1700’s style. They said no. Fuckers. I also found it ironic that we’ve had Presidents in the past who have dueled with pistols and yet the current one called it “barbaric” – which I call bullshit on. I was even gonna lend him a wig. Whatever. Its totally not barbaric if you’re wearing a wig.

Its probably for the better. I’m a lover not a fighter. Plus he has secret service, they’d turn me into swiss cheese before I could even think about it. Good thing he said no. Kudos to the president, he saved my life.

I’m wearing the wig right now though.

But the good news is, the current president did accept my challenge to a debate, as did the vice president accept it. As our legal battle continued on, so did our campaign. Nothing was going to stop us.

As you all well know by now, I kicked the president’s ass in debate. He kept talking about all this political bullshit, and I pretty much kept telling him…that it was bullshit. “We’re gonna do this.. or that.. or something else..” “Bullshit.” – It was like Ali and the rope a dope. Eventually it wore him down. Critics agree.. the critic was victorious.

Gotta say though.. that was one uncomfortable suit.

Mr. T also held his own in his debate. He pitied Joe Biden so hard that Biden went temporarily insane. He was so scared he would shift from times where he was in uncontrollable fits of crying to hysterical laughing. I feel bad for Biden, Mr. T is hard to debate. We disagreed once. I gave up after he stared me down. He was probably right anyways. Goddamn that man can debate.

In the end, the votes were counted, but despite the mass amounts of votes that went our way, our legal battle would not fall in our favor. The supreme court decided the uphold the flaw in the constitution that says I wasn’t old enough to be president. Alas, we shall have to wait until next time.

And there will be another time. I even have a running mate in mind. I don’t know much about her yet, but judging by this sign, I think we’ll get along fucking great.

So our epic run at the presidency is over, but what a run it was. I couldn’t have done it without your support. So since the election, I’ve been quiet. So you say, dear critic, where hast thou been? Well, I had to find a new job, bitch. What else? I am not no rich ass Mitt Romney, I can’t just lose something this big and be able to sit in my tree house and survive. So I got a new job. What’s that job? Its just like my last job. To bring you the truth. To represent the truth, the truth party and to take the country by storm in a wave of kickassness. And to fondle as many breasts as possible. That’s just the perks of the job, don’t blame me. I’m doing this shit like a Kennedy. So what's next? We’re not stopping motherfuckers. Its 2016 is what's next. Don’t think for a minute its not. And by then I’ll look like I’m over 35. Hence our new slogan.

That’s right bitch. This time.. its legal. Bring on the new campaign!