As many of my campaign supporters know, my daughter was recently photographed in public with the daughter of Hillary Clinton who, as you might be aware, is one of my opponents. A mere few days later, she was seen with Mrs. Clinton herself. It has even been reported that Stacie was guarding Mrs. Clinton's tea, making sure that no one was else could enjoy any of its herbal goodness. I have been asked to make a formal statement about the relationship of my daughter to the Clintons, and the impact it may have on my campaign. It is with a heavy heart that I oblige, but I do hope that my supporters will find strength with me as we march bravely on to victory.
What you must understand about my daughter Stacie is that she is in no way comparable to Chelsea Clinton. I say this for a number of reasons. Chelsea is poised and polished, Stacie looks like her brother in drag when she puts on a dress. Chelsea is a hero to us all and an excellent role model, Stacie spends a lot of time doing local community theater with friends of ill-repute. I suspect some of them may even be - dare I say it - homosexuals. Chelsea can speak very eloquently about many topics, Stacie spends a lot of time saying things that don’t make any sense (I will pose a question to my supporters: What, exactly, does “Whoops, there goes my monkey” mean?). What troubles me about their alleged relationship is not how much better Hillary’s daughter looks when she stands next to mine, but the fact that Stacie has yet to ask me to speak to a crowd of college-aged students.
This has been a serious slap in the face: My daughter, with an entire university of voting-aged people at her disposal, has yet to ask me to speak to them in a coffee-house style forum. Or the forum I prefer, a fraternity basement at about 3 a.m. on a Tuesday. This is yet another reason why Stacie should just shut up and take a page from Chelsea’s book. Chelsea is traveling the country convincing those in their generation to vote for her mother. Stacie is sitting at her desk blogging about what a great experience it was to meet Chelsea, and, to a lesser extent, how awkward it was to have to stand in a small ready-room and listen to Mrs. Clinton pee.
Something is wrong here. My friends, many of you have asked me if it negatively reflects my campaign to have my daughter so publicly snub me. It does not, I tell you. If anything, I believe the people see past this petty trifle and realize that while Hillary Clinton has a better daughter than I do, she does not have a penis. So there it is, my friends: Dicky B is all about the real issues. I will not let this momentary bump in the road deter me from my focus on what really matters in life. And that's the issues. Canada. Ketchup. Most importantly, me winning. We soldier on.
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Given how many times I've woken in the middle of the night listening to Dicky B taking a leak I'm going to stick with my story that I was simply getting a feel for all the candidates. I plan on dropping in on Obama dropping a deuce next month.
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