This election?! Am I right? Oi vey. It’s just inspiring so many crazy memes and sound bytes and “check this out on Twitter” moments. We’re so invested, and we’re not even American!
Who knows what’s going to happen. I mean I know we have a steak dinner riding on the outcome of the election, but really, who can say?
I can’t believe someone as cool as Obama is going to be leaving office soon. He is just the coolest in a way that won’t come back to haunt you, like say, playing your saxophone on Arsenio. Obama is like the best TV dad, right up there with Ward Cleaver and Dan Connor. Sometimes I wonder what must it be like to have Barack Obama as a father. Let’s say I came home with a bad report card, what would the conversation be?
(this is actually something I never had to worry about when I was growing up because I mastered the art of forgery at a very young age)
So Ratty, can you write two short dialogues where you come home with a bad report card? One where Barack is your father and one where Donald Trump is your father?
I hand Donald Trump my bad report card. He looks it over.
TRUMP: Let me tell you this is great. It’s amazing. Believe me, it’s amazing.
ME: Dad, I’m failing everything.
TRUMP: This is very strong, very strong. It’s amazing. The Hispanics will love this.
I look at what he’s looking at. It is, in fact, still my report card.
TRUMP: Who is this Ms. Wright?
ME: She’s my teacher
TRUMP: More like Ms. Wrong! Ms. Wrong! Total loser name. Lightweight. Such a slob.
TRUMP: Billions! Believe me! And thousands of jobs. Let me tell you what, you want to know what?
ME: I guess?
TRUMP: They’ll pay for it! We’re going to make them pay for it.
ME: Right. Well, can you just sign it? I need to have a parent sign it.
TRUMP: Everything’s great! It’s perfect! They love me!
ME: Why are you yelling?!
TRUMP: The polls! Believe me! A wall!
ME: Can you just sign it!
I hand him a pen. He fumbles with it, unable to write.
TRUMP: What is this? Trick pen? China?!
ME: No, it’s a pen that’s been designed for a typical human sized hand.
TRUMP: It’s huge!
I grab the pen and report card.
ME: Where’s mom, I’ll just get her to sign it.
TRUMP: Melania! Up, let’s go!
Melania Trump, who has been curled up in a ball in the corner, creakily expands to her full height. She starts to walk over before stopping dead in her tracks, head cocked at an odd angle.
MELANIA: Oil! Oil! Oil! Oil!
TRUMP: Jesus Christ! Oil? Somebody? We need oil in here!
An alarm sounds from Melania’s mouth, smoke begins to rise from her head.
TRUMP: You look amazing Melania, believe me!
Her head sets on fire and explodes.
TRUMP: Gorgeous. Very strong woman.
I hand Barack Obama my bad report card.
Discover challenge – ideal situation: Designed for You