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Out for dead presidents

How is it that, with as many crazed, racist cracka-ass crackas as there are in the US these days, the only people I’ve ever heard about getting busted for threatening to kill Barack Obama on the Internets are two black dudes?

I’m sure part of it’s that it takes a special kind of dumbass to think that you can actually get away with some shit like that, in an age when you can hardly fix your fingers to type some shit like that without the government knowing about it. If you’ve got one of those computers with a built-in webcam, homeland security is probably watching you jerk off as we speak. Even if you don’t, they might still be listening in. I read somewhere that they can use your cellphone to eavesdrop on you, even when it’s turned off, and they’ve also got something implanted in the cable boxes. That’s probably the real reason they made everyone either get cable or get one of those digital converter boxes. If I can stream pr0n on my cell phone in the break room at the BGM, where there is no wifi (theoretically, anyway), I’m pretty sure I should be able to watch network TV without an extra box sitting on top of my TV, as if this was 1986.

If someone were really interested in killing the president, the last thing they’d do is mention it on the Internets. They probably wouldn’t even visit any sites that might cause the government to suspect they’d be interested in killing the president, like Infowars, or Sandra Rose (who can’t stand Obama, despite how distinctly black his wife is, at least in terms of appearance), or Pornhub. In other words, more or less the entire contents of my Google Reader.

The apartment I lived in before I got my own house in a shanty town was not too far from where the president would sometimes visit when he was in town. I remember one time Bush Mengele came to town, and the point at which they began blocking the streets was right at the top of my own street. I was headed that way to get a caramel frap or some shit, and I saw where the Secret Service had the street blocked off. I was like, “The fuck?” I couldn’t go anywhere in that direction. I’m not saying this definitely had anything to do with my Internets use. I’m just saying. Even the place where I used to cop my milkshake wasn’t that close to where the president was.

Let me guess: the two black dudes who supposedly threatened to kill Barack Obama on Twitter this past weekend were plants by the Illuminati, which really is planning on assassinating Barack Obama, and blaming it on a black person. The dead giveaway, no pun intended, is the fact that the Secret Service doesn’t really seem to give a shit. They’re said to be investigating both incidents, but you’d think they’d send stormtroopers to these guys’ houses and have them shipped off to Gitmo forthwith, just to send out the message that you can’t say shit like that on Twitter. Even Black People Twitter, which takes place at night, while people who work for a living are asleep. Otherwise, these teabaggers might get the idea that that’s allowed, and they’ll all start doing it, similar to how they all started bringing guns to Obama events in areas where you’re allowed to stand out in the street with a gun, even if the president is nearby, which will make it that much more difficult to find someone who might actually pose a threat to the president. Threatening the president could become one of those things that’s commonplace to the point where it’s hardly illegal – like how no Chinese person has ever properly used a turn signal, and yet you’ve never seen a Chinese person get pulled over by the police.

I figured some shit like this might be going on, back when I heard that that Arab guy and his smoking hot wife managed to sneak into a state dinner at the White House. Like, maybe they were setting us up for another A-rab to sneak into the White House and pull a jihad on Obama, and then they could just claim that the security there wasn’t that good. That one black chick who was the Secretary of Party Decorations or whatever was more concerned with getting free jewelry from Vogue magazine than with making sure all Arabs were cavity searched at the gate, like they do at the airport in Israel. She was recently let go, which I took to mean that they decided against that plan, if there was such a plan in the first place. Don’t be surprised if she randomly turns up dead six months from now, like Vince Foster. They don’t need those secrets getting out. Of course they’ll try to blame it on the cognitive dissonance a black woman would experience from getting fired from her job by a black man, the one time that’s ever happened, even though I think we all know that the natural course of action, if that were the case, would be for her to claim that Obama hit that. I’ve seen some pictures of her and Obama where they look mad close. And technically, it might not be possible to be named Desiree and not be someone’s jumpoff. They better hurry up with that fake suicide!

The new plan, I’m assuming, will have to do with black kids’ growing fascination with the Illuminati – which I’d like to personally take credit for, but I know only but so many black people read my shit. My little brother says the black kids at his school are obsessed with finding out who’s in the Illuminati and who isn’t (the only real consensus seems to be Jay-Z), and they probably can’t even read. A few weeks ago, I ran into that guy Charles Hamilton was stealing beats from at a house party, and he said there’s these hip-hop-themed Illuminati DVDs you can buy in the ghetto. Er, a bit further into the ghetto than where I live. Both of the guys who got busted this weekend seem like they might have seen such a DVD. I couldn’t find a picture of the one who’s supposedly a conservative blogger, but I notice the symbol in his profile pic on Twitter looks like it wouldn’t be out of place in Jay-Z’s video for “On to the Next One.” The other guy, who’s a self-proclaimed hip-hop head, wears a black hoodie with a picture of Marvin the Martian on it, which at the very least lets me know he’s the kind of man who’s easily led astray. Nullus?

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