China Rhymes with Vagina

My campaign manager has asked me to write a position paper on our China policy.

I mean, my former campaign manager. The McDougal Administration believes in accountability. And accountability means not wasting money on idle policy wonks who can't be trusted to write position papers on their own without punching themselves in the face repeatedly with a brick and falling asleep on a platter of General Tso's Chicken.

Accountability means a lot more than just holding your neighbors responsible for things like invading some God-damned pacifists like Tibet, monkeying with exchange rates and selling millions of tons of cheap plastic trinkets made by prisoners. There's a lot of money in cheap plastic trinkets and prisoners are bored half the time anyway, so why not put the two together and make something of it? Also, those Chinese bastards have a ton of cash sitting around that I'd like to tap, so I'm not going to go off on them and risk not having a crack at that loot. The McDougal administration believes in doing what's best for the American people - and as the chief representative of the American people, It's my job to look out for what's good for the chief. Which is me. Look what sucking up to the Chinese bastards did for Wal*Mart. They sell plastic American flags, made in China, for $1.89. Cost, including ocean freight? About twenty-seven cents. Anybody else would have ordered flags from Chillicothe, Ohio at eighty-seven cents each. Business geniuses! I love 'em.*

But back to my original point - the McDougal administration believes in accountability, which means the Commander-in-Chief shouldn't have to waste his time writing some long, boring policy statement that no one's going to read anyway. As President, I will not be distracted by "policy." As President, it will be my job to make decisions. As President, I will be the chief decisioner in the government. It will be my job to make the decisions and the faceless policy wonks can then redefine the terms and facts to support those decisions.

The McDougal administration also believes in looking at the big picture and the importance of expertise. We will seek out the experts in whatever area we're concerned about and delegate the problems to those experts. In the case of China, everyone's all upset because the Chinese invaded Tibet and have been menacing Taiwan. That's too much information. If we let ourselves get sucked into too many problems, we'll never get out. Thus... and here's an executive decision... we will combine the Tibet issue and the Taiwan issue into one - I'm going to call it "Tai-Bet" and then bring in the best experts to deal with that. In the case of Tai-Bet, there's clearly one man who is the greatest living authority. Of course, I'm talking about Billy Blanks. Billy Blanks invented Tai-Bet and has studied it extensively. I'm going to make Billy Blanks the McDougal administration's ambassador to China; please consult with him if you have any further questions about the McDougal administration's China policy.


Thank you for your support.


MCDOUGAL

*Wal*Mart people: I'm going to be in a position to do a lot for you guys, if you catch my drift... Confucius say "Hand which scratch my back have other hand in pocket..." Capiche? Give me a call.

Found this on my bathroom floor this morning:

Dear Mr. McDougal,

Thank you for your employment inquiry. Shell Oil Global Incorporated welcomes applicants with your qualifications and diverse background. We would like to meet you and discuss further the opportunity to employ you and benefit from your many talents.

We hope you do not consider it to untoward if we ask a few questions before setting up a meeting with yourself and the Shell Board of Directors;

• When you say in your resume that you "fucked an entire army of Marilyn Vos Savant clones", do you mean that you reached fulfillment with each and every one of them? Or are you describing more of a general grab and pant orgy with them, in which all members may or may not have been satiated?
• How exactly did you travel from 17th century China to the present-day home of Barbara Streisand? You made it very clear what you ate and defecated daily on your trip, but the vessel of travel was not mentioned. Just a point that needs clarification.
• If you were to work for Shell Oil would you continue to, as you describe in your resume, rip the knees off anyone you meet in a public restroom who makes less than $800,000 a year? And if so, why?
• Ivica Račan, of the Croatian People's Party, was in the early 2000s the minister of public works alongside Radimir Čačić, who was in turn a former president of the party. At the time they worked together they had two deputies in the Croatian Parliament. What were their names?
• What would you say motivated you to write the words "eat my ass on a plate" on the top of the first 17 pages of your Letter of Intent?

If the answer to question 1 is that all of the Vos Savant clones were satisfied, could you please give us some insight into the pleasure points and erogenous zones of Ms. Vos Savant?

Thank you, and we look forward to hearing from you at your earliest convenience.

Lynn Elsenhans
President of Shell Oil Products U.S.

Year of the Yak

Several years ago, I was living with McDougal in a grass hut on the outskirts of Kathmandu, Nepal.

We didn't have much money at the time. McDougal was fresh out of prison, and I'd been out of work from the meat plant for close to 34 months.

The series of events that led us to this miserable existence is far too complex to detail here. In summary, however, let's just say:

1. The classification of pork as "the other white meat" is wrong on many levels.
2. Pig farmers have very little sense of humor.
3. Pig farmers are a vengeful lot.
4. There are more of them than you would think.
5. Sometimes it's good just to step back and re-evaulate your life, and the path that you've chosen.
6. All roads ultimately lead to Kathmandu.

Well, McDougal and I didn't exactly "fit in" with the locals. I'm a gruff, balding sausage engineer, and McDougal is a giant bear-like figure with six-foot arms and a glass foot. The villagers thought he was a damn yeti. As such, they kept their distance.

In our days in Kathmandu, we subsisted on a diet of roots, berries, and an hallucinogenic compound McDougal crafted from yak droppings and dried flowers. If not for the makeshift drugs, I don't think we'd have survived that long winter.

Things were looking bad by February, when McDougal came up with an idea that literally saved our lives, lifted us from starvation, and abject poverty, and finally gave us some level of social standing among the locals.

We bought a Rally's Burgers franchise and built in in the center of Kathmandu.

Let me tell you something about the people of Nepal -- they freakin' love Rally's chocolate shakes!

We ran the joint for six months, in which time we made close to $7,000,000 dollars each, then McDougal sold the place for $40 (US) to a Nepalese business man named Artie Shaw.

Six days later, McDougal set the place on fire in a drunken rage. He felt the service had gone down the toilet under new management. Then he ate the entire city before being chased into the mountains by a Chinese army helicopter.

Turns out that crazy ass McDougal actually was a yeti.

Who knew?

Total Eclipse of the Heart

Back in 1988, I was in an Ultimate Frisbee tournament with McDougal.

I don't like to brag, but when it comes to Ultimate Frisbee, I'm no slouch. And, well, you guys know about McDougal, right? What? You don't know about McDougal's years on the UF tour?

Well, this isn't really the time to get into all that. Suffice it to say, the man can flat out Frizz. Seriously, check the record books. They look like the credits to a Hollywood movie about McDougal and starring McDougal as McDougal ... And as everyone else!

Anyway, I'm good, and McDougal, he's just out of this world. So we were pretty much set to win from the moment we walked onto the court. But there is one thing about playin' with McDougal -- you got to watch your back because everyone's gonna be gunnin' for you from the get-go.

In my case, it came in the form of a vicious attack from what I first thought was a rabid polar bear. Turns out it was just some drunk Venezuealan dude in a rabid polar bear costume. Regardless, the guy sucker punched me in the stomach as soon as I got off the shuttle, and I ended up shitting blood for six days.

For those of you who've only seen Ultimate Frisbee on cable television and magazines, you may not realize what a cutthroat, dangerous sport it is. Let me tell you, Ultimate Frisbee is as crooked as McDougal's third wife's prosthetic leg. That's because it's run by the Chinese mafia.

So this tourney in '88 ... I was a little nervous because it was to be played under Lunar Rules, because it was on the moon. I'd played under California rules, Pennsylvania rules (the de facto US Standard, for those of you UF newbees), and even international rules from when I was in Korea.

But Lunar rules are far more complex because of the whole gravity issue.

Like, for example, in most rulebooks lightchucking (also known as spigot hurling) is perfectly legal. But on the moon -- FORGET IT! Someone could lose a foot in those conditions. So I thought the Lunar rules were a bit of a handicap, but at least they hit everyone the same way.

So we make it through the semi-finals in the 88 championships, and the PCP starts to wear off.

I'm pretty sure my game completely went to shit in the championship match, because I was fading in and out of consciousness and lucidity.

At one point, I had this crazy dream that I wasn't even on the moon, I wasn't really sure what Ultimate Frisbee was, and I was really collapsed under a urinal at a Flying J near Galveston. And one time, I had this vision that McDougal was my dad and we were actually a couple of pot bellied pigs who lived alone on a deserted island made out of Oprah Winfrey's beautiful mocha teets.

McDougal said that happens to everyone at some point in their career. Then we huffed some more varnish and I can't remember for sure, but I think we ended up winning the tourney.

Ultimate Frisbee's a really fun game.

Year of the Rabbit

McDougal and I were in Tibet last Halloween.

I dressed as Robert Mitchum in "The Friends of Eddie Coyle." McDougal dressed as Peter Boyle.

McDougal shanghais a ricksha, and at gunpoint he forces the driver to take us into town.

Of course, I don't speak a word of Chinese, but McDougal knows enough to get around. We pull into this Kosher deli, and I get some hummus and a bag of raw oats. McDougal orders a couple of Panda steaks.

Well, the damn Chinese are freaks about those pandas. Next thing I know, the waiter loses it on us and launches about two dozen throwing stars smack into McDougal's gullet.

McDougal goes down hard. He dies right there on the spot; and I'm left alone and helpless in a foreign land.

Then the waiter says to me, "Ming mao a itsi wei."

I kind of just shrug my shoulders, so the guy says to me in English, "Peter Boyle is dead."

Just then, the real Peter Boyle busts in with an uzi and a sawed-off pump action 12-gauge. He kills everyone in the joint, then throws McDougal over his shoulder and says I'm to follow him.

Boyle rushes us to some monastery up in the mountains, where a kindly old Buddhist monk brings McDougal back to life.

Boyle looks at McDougal and says, "Now we're even."

The monk wanted my autograph, so I signed "Robert Mitchum" on his forehead qith a quill dipped in yak blood.

On the way out, this little AmerAsian boy tells us they don't celebrate Halloween in Tibet, so we hop on a freighter bound for Long Island and get there just in time to enter a costume contest at a wharf-side pub.

McDougal won 1st place for his Andy Warhol costume.

I was disqualified because they thought I was a real rabbit.

Lunch Plans

I just got back from lunch with McDougal. We went to Godzilla's Drive-In & Eat on Highway 18. It's run by this old Vietnamese guy, who mostly serves hot dogs and loose meat.

I had three chili dogs, a bag of Funyuns, and a vanilla shake. McDougal ate a little town in the Gansu Province of China.

After lunch, we stopped by McDougal's new house. There were about half a dozen contractors there widening the doorways, and putting the entire house on floats.

Later this summer he's gonna sail the whole thing over to China, where the villages are a lot fresher.

Minjas

Do you guys remember when McDougal went on that big kick about the Minjas?

He put together that crazy ass business plan and everything.

I told him it was a hair-brained idea, but he wouldn't hear it.

"Nipsy," he told me, "there's a whole class of little people who maybe feel inferior because they don't measure up to societal norms. And there's a whole other class of people out there who spend their days freakin' puttin' the bad karate on hapless saps -- generally killing them in the process. Let's put 'em together and see what shakes out."

"It'll never work, McDougal. Let's get back to work," I said.

But damn if he didn't up and quit right there.

Walked into Bossman's office, spit in his face, and jacked a wad right there. Told him, "You eat my nut, Bossman, or I walk."

Of course, Bossman ate the nut.

But McDougal walked anyway.

Told him he'd send Bossman a fresh batch for severance.

He went off, got all liquored up, and put together this business plan.

He was gonna breed midget ninjas to be sold on the open market for personal use, tactical operations, espionage, and corporate security.

He went to a couple of VC guys, and they laughed him out of their offices.

Fortunately, he was able to hook up with the Chinese mafia, and they gave him $2MM in Mezanine Financing for his project.

I bet those VC guys rethought things in the last moments before they were beheaded by crazy ass midget ninjas.

I don't know what kind of money McDougal ended up making out of the deal, but he moved a few hundred of 'em when all was said and done.

I still have a couple of them, but due to a genetic defect, they age six times faster than regular ninjas, and after three or four years, they aren't any good for ninjonics anymore.

I use mine as personal valets and lawn decorations, mostly.

Sometimes I bring them in and have them jack me off a little bit, but mostly they sleep outside with the Vietnamese boy McDougal sold me back in '82.

Auto Repair (Part Two)

As we all well know McDougal hates the Chinese. So one day we're sittin around watching Superbowl porn and he jumps up out of his beanbag and tells us he's going to take 30 Chinese and build himself a street rod. Damned if he doesn't have it, 2 hours later, the fastest machine you ever saw built entirely out of Chinese body parts and boxes of oatmeal. The fucking thing ran on 3 cycle oil and he had painted it fire engine red, Lord, it was a sight.

So he snorts a line of coke from the hood clear to the back bumper, says, "Let's go to Vegas," and throws her into gear and drives straight into the ocean. My eyes popped straight out of my head, literally, when he took that thing down to the bottom of the Marianas Trench and fucking laid open a castle full of snacks and video games. One of the Chinee, the one that he used his intestines for belts and an exhaust pipe, was hollerin and screamin but you couldn't hear him of course cause we were under about 20,000 feet of water. So McDougal, crazy ass McDougal, takes one of those weird ass deep sea sightless albino squid things and fucking goes to town on it, I mean TO TOWN, oral, anal, weird shit with spoons, I can't even remember it all. Next thing you know we're sitting back on the docks in New Jersey and he's bitching about the equator. God damn he's something else.

Auto Repair (Part One)

Before he joined the Marines, McDougal took a course in auto/body repair at the local junior college.

He dropped out after two days. When the instructor told him he'd never amount to anything, McDougal stole the guy's car (an old Chevy Nomad), stripped out the engine and did some work on it.

He ended up designing the next generation of rocket technology that to this day is more efficient and powerful than anything Lockheed Martin or McDonnel Douglas have been able to come up with.

He entered the car in a drag race up in Rock Hill and set the world land speed record that still stands to this day.

Later, when the military contacted him about his engine, McDougal said he couldn't tell them how he designed the engine because he'd shredded the plans, pissed on them, and fed them to his auto/body repair instructor's dying mother on her last day on this earth. He then sold the car to the Chinese, and lost all the profits in a craps game at some seedy indian reservation casino in upstate New York.

The Pentagon tried to bring him on as a rocket scientist, but you know McDougal. He ended up going infantry. Near the end of the war in Vietnam, he killed and ate his entire platoon. The Marines still gave him an honorable discharge, and they even gave him a medal.

When they tried to pin it on him, crazy old McDougal took the medal and stuck it in a falcon's eye and set it free. The falcon flew straight up into the air about half a mile. Then he burst into flames and came plummeting back to the award stage. McDougal slowly stepped out of the way just before the bird landed. Ended up killing two generals and a colonel.