I’m smart now because I’m famous

I’m famous! Now I am going to tell you who to vote for! Why? Fuck you, that’s why! I’m famous.

Hey, I graduated from college, so I’m smart. True, my acting degree did not require any science or math credits, but I did get an “A” in Film Appreciation II, and that was hard. Don’t look at me like that! I attended nearly every class.

I’m famous, so you’d better get used to me telling you what policies to embrace, which foods to eat, and what kind of clothes to wear. If you wear fur, you are evil. Because minks are cute and cows are, you know, not. And shame on you if you don’t support Tibet. People got it tough in Tibet. I own a house there.

You want to know who I’m voting for? Of course you do. If Oprah cares, then you care. How do you like it? I’m voting for the guy – or GAL – who’s for solar powered cars, a living wage, homes for homeless people, and advocates the end to hunger and war! My personal attendant has already filled out my ballot.

I’m a gun control authority because I made some easy jokes at Charlton Heston’s expense at the Academy Awards. What a dopey old fuck! Only bodyguards should be allowed to carry firearms.

Forget insightful. When was the last time this woman was even funny?

I have three kids from three different women, so I’m entitled to have my children’s book published. Hell, yeah! It’s about a little boy – much like me — who’s scared of monsters in his bedroom. Been done before? Fuck you. It ain’t been done by a famous person. Besides, my children’s story is real. It don’t talk down to kids. I draw from my own experiences, and I used to be scared of monsters. And besides, nobody was interested in illustrating my children’s book about having a three-way with the two groupies I banged in Orlando.

“I dreamed up a children’s book while getting banged
by Willem DeFoe in Body of Evidence

Parenthood is hard. It’s a bitch! The nanny is always like, “Little Junior would like to see you this month.” Except, I don’t have a kid named something gross like “Junior.” My kids are named Prometheus, Wingnut and Yellow Pages. And when they go outside, I make them wear surgical masks so nobody thinks they’re weird.

Hell, yeah, I’m famous! When I get old and fat, I’m running for governor, because I once played a governor on TV. I’ll tell people how it is. I’ll say, “Dude, we need to raise taxes to help out these poor people. I only make $50 million a year, and I give some of that to poor people, you selfish hotel maid!” That’s “keeping it real” and “telling it how it is.” The people appreciate that from celebrities.

“Just because I haven’t made my own sandwich
in 20 years doesn’t mean I don’t care!”

I can’t understand why every liberal I endorse never makes it to the White House. I’m famous! You’d think my sheltered, glitter-stick perspective would be appreciated by folks from middle America. In a movie, I once played a Southern sheriff who didn’t wear shoes. That was real.

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