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Night at The Barrys

“Am I at Sears— in the Craftsman Department? There sure seem to be a lot of liberal tools here today.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! My name is Al Gore and I approve of this massage! We are gathered here tonight for this auspicious inaugural presentation of The Barrys, the premiere annual awards ceremony of the world’s leftist movement—and I use the term “movement” in its loosest sense of the word. Oh, sorry Anthony Weiner, you’re not up for any awards tonight…the operative word here being “up.” Just kidding, Anthony, I’m sure the Academy of the Bourgeoisie will deem you worthy of at least a minor award for Stand-up Comedy in an Unsupportable Role. Don’t let it go to your head, Anthony. We both realize your performance wasn’t really award-worthy. But, just like you, we decided to bend the rules a little this season, be a little less rigid, and see what pops up!

[The crowd goes stark-raving mad.]

“Knock it off, you guys. Anthony Weiner is a stand-up guy.

“Oh, did everyone hear about the giant lobster that was snared off the coast of Maine earlier this week? I understand it sounds exactly like Lady Gaga if you drop it in a pot of boiling water! Gaga or Caca? I never could get the pronunciation straight. Which seems only fair considering this is Barney Frank’s swan song. Speaking of Barney Frank, have you heard what kind of wedding gown he will be wearing? Wait for it. Drum roll, please…he’ll be wearing a hospital gown with a lace bodice! Rimshot! Thank you, folks, I’ll be here all week! Oh, sit down Barney. I’m almost done here. The end is in sight!

“It’s great to see you here tonight, Jay Carney. Say, are you old enough yet to drink? Yeah, I remember when I had my first beer, too. Guys, is it just me or does it strike you as odd that Doogie Howser is now the White House Press Secretary? Say, Jay, just what kind of a puppet are you? Is someone pulling your strings? Yeah? Well, then how to you explain that flap in the back of your pants? Really, Jay, you want me to shut up? Man, I’m offended! Fine, I’ll try to explain it to you, okay? Look, Jay, if you find yourself at a party full of liberals and have nothing to say, you may just be a little anti-socialist!

“Ladies and gentlemen, ever wondered why Michelle planted a garden at the White House? It’s simple, really. Barry needs to grow a set of vegetables! You remember Barry, don’t you? Obama the brilliant? So brilliant he glows (grows) in the dark! Speaking of growing in the dark… Mushroom. When Michelle gets in the limo there’s not mushroom left!

“♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ Some people claim that it’s Booooosh we should Blaaaaame… But I know… It’s the jug-eared-Marxist-corruptocrat- dope’s own fault! ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬.

“That concludes tonight’s opening monologue. [Riotous cheering]  You’ve all walked the red carpet (is there really any other kind?) to get in here and now it is time to present our award winners. Ladies and gentlemen I give you Al Sharpton and Maxine Waters, our first set of presenters!”

[Wild applause]

Sharpton: “Maxie, is it true that your parents are siblings?”

Waters: “Put a cork in it, Al, or I’m going to bring Tawana up here to give her side of the story.”

Sharpton: “Ahem. We are here tonight to present the award for Writing (Original Propaganda).”

Waters: “Nominees are:

  • Hair Plugs—Written by Joe Biden.
  • Once Upon a Time in First Class—Written by Alec Baldwin
  • A Taco Too Far—Written by Michael Moore
  • My WikiLeaks!—Written by Julian Assange
  • Debbie Does Doofus—Written by Debbie Wasserman Schultz.”

Sharpton: “The envelope, please.”

Waters: “Here you go, Al!”

Sharpton: “Thank you.”

Sharpton seizes the envelope, which is nothing but a symbol of oppression because it doesn’t take into account the needs of the proletariat, and tears it open. “And the winner is…Debbie Does Doofus—Written by Debbie Wasserman Schultz!”

Waters: “Oh, I’m soooo excited! Debbie Does Congress, too! And while she’s making her way to the stage let me tell you that Debbie almost makes Howard Dean seem reasonable! Oh, yeah, Debbie Does Demagoguery, as well!”

Sharpton: “Gotta say this for Debbie Downer…at least she admitted that Anthony Weiner was beatable!”

Waters: “And here she is, members of the Academy! Debbie needs no introduction. This woman puts the capital L in Loon! Her belfry is wanting of bats…But hey, if you makes you libs happy…”

Wasserman-Schultz: “I resent the allegation by the Republican Party Chairman that I look like a poodle on crack. I also take umbrage with another nasty rumor going around that I am nothing but a Brillo Pad with lips! In fact, I am totally offended by the lies that are being spread by the fear-mongering worms on the other side of the aisle about each and every one of us! Why, just this morning I heard the obnoxious statement that four out of five liberals suffer from diarrhea but the other one enjoys it! Nevertheless, I deem it an honor to have been recognized for my work this past year as Chairwoman of the Democratic National Committee. I may have received this award but it belongs to us all. Well, everyone except Alec Bardwin: the Rosa Parks of fat white middle age celebrity millionaire First Class cabin iPhone addicts. I beat you, Alec!

Wasserman-Schultz stomps off stage, afraid that her tightly-wound hair might come un-kinked before she can exit stage left. Sean Penn and Richard Gere approach the podium to present the next award.

Penn: “You may have noticed that my co-presenter looks a little stressed out tonight. Nothing serious, folks, but FYI, Richard had to go to the hospital again last night. He had to get a mole removed.”

Gere: “No offense to my esteemed colleague, but I’m not the only one feeling sick tonight. Have you heard that Hugo Chavez has gone back to Cuba for more surgery?”

Penn shows the appropriate amount of righteous concern. Camera fades back to Gere.

Gere: “Yeah, Chavez is feeling so bad these days that he looks like an extra evil Joy Behar.”

Penn: “Getting down to business, Richard and I are here to present the award for Best Commie in a Supporting Role.”

Gere: “The nominees are:

  • Van Jones in “Bovine Spokesman”—Nominated for his demonstrated fluency in speaking bull
  • Sonia Sotomayor in “I Refuse to Recuse”—Nominated for her courageous defense of ObamaCare
  • Michelle Obama in “They’re Not Heavy, They’re my Butt Cheeks”—Nominated for excellence in licking fat from a frying pan
  • Nancy Pelosi in “It’s a Stretch. Autobiography of a Botox Queen”—Nominated for proving that aliens do indeed live among us
  • Ted Kennedy in “Sobriety, the New Paradigm”—Nominated on behalf of his deceased liver which taught us all that he could liquor.

Penn: “And the winner is…Michelle Obama!”

Gere: Unbelievable! I’m so proud of my country tonight!”

Penn: “It was an admirable selection considering that Michelle is not a wise Latina woman. Come to think of it we aren’t even sure if she is a woman at all!”

The newly reinforced stairs creak under the strain as Michelle lumbers up on to the stage.

Michelle: “Give me lobsters or give me death!”

[An embarrassed hush falls over the auditorium.]

Michelle: “Uhhhh….oops. Wrong speech! That’s for tomorrow night in the Barbados down at Bennie’s Crab Shack and Fundraiser!”

[The crowd goes wild as Michelle recovers nicely from that little pratfall.]

Michelle: “I’d like to thank all the little people. I couldn’t have done it without you. I especially couldn’t have done it without the press corpse—which reminds me, Helen Thomas looks like a possum hugging an evil sweet potato. Speaking of yams and such last week Barry walked into a bar with a duck. The bartender spotted them coming in through the door and said “Where did you get the jackass?” My husband felt obliged to explain to the bartender that “It’s a duck.” The Bartender replied “I was speaking to the duck!”

“Let me tell you, it isn’t easy being the First Lady. In fact it can be downright dangerous. Just last month I was on vacation in the Amazon rain forest and I started a forest fire just because I was wearing a pair of corduroys!

“As you know I’m in the middle of my anti-obesity campaign. It is my commitment to bio-genetic diversity that keeps me going. But this important work certainly has its challenges. Why, right now my Gene Splicer is busy making a golem using genes from Billy Mays and Joe Biden. It shouts while projectile vomiting someone else’s slime—which is rather messy but also quite rewarding for me as I am used as a secret weapon by my husband’s re-election campaign.

“Thank you all for his honor. It was such a surprise! I’m humbled. I’m proud. And yes, I’m hungry! I love you all. Supercalifragilisticbarryisatrocious! I try to live by the adage: You scratch my back; I’ll let you know when to stop!”

A forklift enters stage right and hauls Michelle off to dinner at Luigi’s. Hear that crumbling sound? It’s just civilization, that’s all.

Al Gore appears on stage once more and says “I have the pleasure of presenting to you the most prestigious trophy of them all. The nominees for Best Bolshevik are:

  • Barry O’Bama in “My Little Irish Wedding
  • Hugo Chavez in “Go to the Light!
  • Anthony Weiner in “Unerectable
  • Hillary Clinton in “Shut up, Chelsea. You’ll Never be the Man your Mother is.”
  • Janet Reno in “Face Donor.”

[A murmur of excitement fills the hall as the highlight of the night arrives.

The suspense is palpable.]

Al Gore decides to prolong the moment by telling a little joke. “Which of the following does not belong: AIDS, gonorrhea, herpes, or Barack Obama? Gonorrhea — it can be cured!”

Al Gore, noticing Barry in the front row, center, continued down an ill-advised road. “Hey, Barack, as Johnny Carson once observed about people like you “He couldn’t ad lib a fart after a baked-bean dinner!”

Gore saw time was running out and, wanting the award to be presented in prime time, got down to business. “And the winner is…ready for it? And the winner is…Barry O’Bama!”

As if there was any doubt. You don’t hold an awards ceremony named after yourself unless you also rig the election.

Barry runs up on the stage, looks at the worthless brass and wood trophy shaped like a Chevy Volt and cries “Wow! I could have had a V-8 instead!”

As Barry left the stage, crying in his beer, Al Gore had one last quip. “I can’t wait for the USS Obama…it’ll cost a trillion to build, veer sharply to the left and be registered to another country! Good night, folks. See you next year!”

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