Chucks Magical Negro
Gets Nuclear Launch Codes
I've no idea what chummy little nickname the british royal family, and it's government, will be calling Barack over the coming years, but to his face, I've no doubt it'll be "Sir"
International politics tend to have even greater turning circles than oil tankers, so in all fairness nobody can expect any significant change for the best part of a year.
I support nuking the government as it's the only surefire way to destroy the state run paedo sex rings of the UK, but I'm mindful of any small children that may be playing near by, so I prefer the big orange ones that pack the same punch as a nuclear device, but with no radiation.
I wonder if Barack's the same?
I'd like to see the US committiing itself to unilateraly replacing all atomic warheads on it's missiles to the big orange variety. They'll still have the firepower to destroy the world many times over, but with no radiation, and what's the point of invading a country that's uninhabitable for the next 60,000 years?
Eco-freindly global thermo-nuclear war, that's what I'm talking about!
I'd also like to see the US signing up to Kyoto, the ICC, and to stop blocking cheap drugs to the third world.
I also want to see plenty of tough love, by way of multi-billion dollar fines, for Google, Yahoo, Microsoft, and Cisco, for handing over freedom loving dissidents to the Chinese government...
You're supposed to wrap the dissidents up in cotton wool, stroke their hair, give them back rubs, and tell them their very, very special and the reason their governments hate them is because they're jealous, before congratulating them on winning a big orange bomb, and asking them where they'd most like it delivered.
Those are all things that can be done in the next few months, and I'm going to be waiting at least that long before I start renouncing Obama as a traitor and a fraud.
In the meantime, I'd like Obama to know that whilst his inauguration speech was powerful and thought provoking, there are plenty of kids in the UK that don't give a fuck about whether or not they can get served in a posh restaurant, as they're too busy getting raped up the arse with broken bottles and chair legs, before turning up dead under the patio of a jersey care home, with no murder inquiry, because they're simply not woth it!
I'd like my orange bomb mostly delivered on Westminter and Downing Street.
© Sean Copland 1995-2014