BADMAN & COLIN

Ewww, girl, ewww! DAMN!
Rub-a-dub-Dubya here, laying out in the hot summer sun, tanning my Jekylled hide. I’ll bet all you naysayers are singing a different tune, what with our finding and killing Sodomy Hussein’s little boys. That’s why I’m relaxing like this. Hunting and murdering tyrants is hard, hard work. So is taking in the last season of Friends. I’m going to miss it when it’s gone.
What was I saying? Oh yeah: soles are not just fish for boots.
So, how did it all go down? How did we find those boyz in their hood? Those menaces II democracy?
With lasers.
I can shoot them out of my eyes.
It’s pretty sweet.
Commissioner Rumsfeld called up Colin and I one day on the Badphone. He was all like, "Hey-- do you have any batteries I can borrow?" And I was all like, "What? Odai and Qusai are on the loose in our newly-liberated Iraq? We’ll be right there!" And he was all like, "Dude, what in the hell are you babbling about? I just need some fucking batteries for my Princess Di-brator-- with freedom-tickle action!"
So Colin and I slid down the Badpoles, which changes us into our costumes. We were no longer mild-mannered Colin Powell, Secretary of State, and pretty-damn-daft George W. Bush, President of Lake Superior. We were Badman and Colin! We hopped into the Badmobile-- Colin drove, because I can’t reach the pedals-- and drove over to Iraq.
When we got there, Condoleezza Rice was there, picking all this couscous out of her teeth. "Dey’s in dere," she said. So I reached into the Badmobile and pulled out a cooler. Then I asked Colin for his megaphone.
"Hey, you wacky Iraqis!" I yelled into it. "Look what I got!"
Not surprisingly, Odai Wan-Kenobi and his brother came to the window. Iraqis can’t resist Rubbermaid products.
"We are very thirsty, stupid American! What is in this cooler you flaunt?"
So, slowly, I reached in, and as I pulled out the secret Badman Death Ray-- with Brown People Honing Device, patent pending-- I yelled, "The coldest can of whoop-ass you’ll ever drink, Cheeto-head!"
And then I filled their fortress with more fire than the Backdraft trailer. Colin just kinda stood there with his hand out, holding all the crap Condoleezza was pulling out from between her teeth. I swear, I saw a pube in there.
Then we flew back to the White House, just in time for Colin’s favorite show, Felicity. He watches the faggiest shows, you know.
I’ll drop ya'll another line in a few weeks, when I get that shipment of life preservers I ordered for the entire nation. You’re gonna need it, with as deep as this recession is.
If you like pina coladas,
- Badman