Michele Bachmann is the Reason I Drink

It’s 8am and I’m already drunk.

I woke up early this morning. Before my alarm. For anyone who knows me, this is kind of a big deal. But I had this feeling that something big was going to happen today. Like, the spidey sense of comedy was tingling. I could sense the danger.

So I did what any good comedian does when they want to get the latest from what’s tickling society, and hopped on Facebook.

Here is what I saw:

This isn't even a tenth of them...

This isn’t even a tenth of them…

(Two of the stories in this picture are other liberal propaganda against Republicans. One of them was intentional, and one was not. The one that wasn’t was the Obamacare story. But Hell if I’m going to fix it now.)

I saw all this, and I started drinking. Not just because I’m an alcoholic, but because this is truly a sad, sad day for us.

YoungNotions is going to have to close up shop.

There is no way we’re going to be able to bring you the same quality articles we brought you in the past. I just did a search, and in just over 2 years of the comedy website’s posts, 3 pages of the results were about Michele Bachmann.

We brought you Michele Bachmann fellating a corndog.
We’ve shared in her crazy lies and crazy eyes.
We’ve discussed the restraining order on her from God.
We’ve reveled in her financial woes.
We’ve outed her jealousy of other women in politics.

And we’ve talked about Bill’s absolute and complete obsession with her repeatedly. And by we, I mean Bill.

But all of that is going away. Because Michele Bachmann is not going to run for re-election.

 

I actually have this pic in a YoungNotions folder on my desk for frequently used images.

I actually have this pic in a YoungNotions folder on my desk for frequently used images.

When I heard the news, I reached for the nearest bottle of alcohol (rubbing) and just downed the entire thing. I’m super angry. Angry that she’s making comedy harder on me. Angry that she’s removing the bread and butter of our comedy site. Angry that I’m going to have to start doing actual research on things going on instead of making cheap shots about how her husband is probably gay.

Actually, I think that joke is pretty lame. One, because I hate it when people tell me I’m a different orientation than I am, and Two, because it’s super lazy. Like, way lazier than either Bill or I. And that’s pretty lazy.

Mostly, I was angry that she didn’t wait until tomorrow to do so. Because tomorrow is both Bill’s turn to write the blog AND his birthday. It would have been the best birthday ever. Like a life sized hot chick made of chocolate with a boozy inside (I didn’t get him one of those, either). Instead, she’s like that awkward friend who ruins the surprise party by talking about how they’ll see the person being surprised the next day at the surprise party they don’t know about.

Way to ruin my husband’s birthday, Michele. Way to ruin YoungNotions. AND WAY TO RUIN AMERICA!!!

And my liver.

Three Hundred and Ten Million Dollars.

What’s up, losers? This will probably be one of my last posts since I’m gonna win the powerball on Saturday and I won’t have to do this stupid blog for you dumb readers! Get your diarrhea jokes and ham handed political commentary somewhere else because I’ll be drinking liquid diamonds on my rocket boat!


If you’re offended by this, it probably means you’re poor. It’s okay. I’ll be getting a lot of that once I’m insanely rich so I should probably start pissing off poor people now so I’ll be used to it when I cash my oversized novelty check. I’m going to want a smooth transition for when I become an important, better person. Not to make you jealous, but here’s what I’m going to do with all that money.


BUY A SPORT
Some millionaires buy sports teams. I’m going to buy an entire sport. I know that $310M won’t allow me to buy one of the more popular sports but I think I could buy all of professional LaCrosse and still have plenty left to throw around.

GO INTO SPACE
I’m not talking that low earth orbit Richard Branson bullshit, I mean actual outer space. The kind Lance Bass almost went into.

GET JENA SOMETHING NICE
Like everything from that Barenaked Ladies song. I could even get the Barenaked Ladies to deliver that stuff. They’d probably appreciate the work.



“But wait!” you say, covered in the rags of the lower classes, your hands calloused from manual labor. “Aren’t you celebrating a little early? How do you know you’re going to win the powerball?” Then you cough into your hands because you probably have some gross poor person’s disease.



Don’t worry about me, urchin. I have a system in place. See, the odds of winning the powerball jackpot are roughly 1 in 195,000,000. So if I buy 2 tickets than my chances are 2 in 195,000,000. Divide 195,000,000 by 2 and my chances translate to 1 in 97,500,000. Buy a 3rd ticket and my odds are now 2 in 97,500,000 or 1 in 48,750,000. Each new ticket doubles my chances. By following this mathematically sound formula, my chances of winning are roughly 1 in 1 after buying 29 tickets. I’ll buy 30 just to be safe. Granted, the tickets are $3 each with the power play option but you have to spend money to make money.



So long, suckers!

Here's another thing I can buy. The entire Duck Tales series on DVD. Wait... Blu Ray. I'm rich now. Rich people watch Blu Ray