I want them gone.

But sir.

Out. starting Monday; and I want you out of my office, starting now.

Now, get Troublemaker on the line so I can finish my breakfast in agony, like the red blooded American I'm supposed to be.

Sir.

Troublemaker is the top secret code name assigned to the President of the United States; the true President of the United States, the only surviving member of the cabinet after a series of successful infiltrations and assasinations by the enemy, after a covert mission revealed that the succession of the US presidents had been predetermined; not chosen by “The People”, but decendants of a Royal bloodline. Pinocchio the code name for the senator chosen as the stand in— the face to America's eyes and ears, listens intently to the President's every move, daily happenings, and assertions, as to best convey the ideas as his own; meanwhile, the Secret President is heavily guarded, controlled, and is acclimated using a series of secret codes and messages and decoded, including several secret languages and symbology hidden within her daily routines, which become more challenging and versatile, adapting her to her role as Commander In Chief of the United States armed forces, and consequently, the world around her, as the US forces seek to broaden their horizon as the a world superpower, to a Global entity, which powers and controls the heavily overpopulated planet which lies in imminent demise by like likes of war, plague, and diminishing resources.

The actual President of the United States must remain hidden as so, as to remain safe until the intercontinental breech has been sealed, and national security has been restored.

Viewer indescretion is advised

It's not ME.

Okay, okay:

I'm not the president!

I'm not running for president

I don't even know who the president is.

The president is dead.

GOOD .

Madame…

I mean—not good.

You—

No.

So like—-

It's automatically racist to just outright say that the migrants are for the most part not well behaved or orderly—-

They leave trash everywhere and don't even watch their kids!

Some of them.

I think they're just assuming this is okay?!

IS THIS OKAY?!

No! What the fuck!

That is racist.

Have you seen it from where I stand?

The strength is in numbers!

Look,

I don't hate human beings.

Are they—

Yes they're humans.

They're just.

Our imminent demise is in allowing this to continue to happen.

I hope you realize that from how high up you are.

I know you can't see it from up in your shiny townhouses or from the blacked out windows of your townecars, but...

They're good people.

SOME of them

I mean a lot of these 3rd world people are very primitive thinkers.

Don't count on them being brought up to speed in consciousness and morality when they're basically brought here as luxury slaves.

That's putting it nicely.

Well, if you're not going to pay Americans living wages, you're going to have to counter it somehow.

I can't have three jobs.

Oh, that's nice. The terrorists are attacking their own people.

For what purpose is any of this, actually?

Check it out. I found the leak.

Alert the mayor.

He's on the Mayor's books.

What in the actual fuck.

Gross.

Is there not a screening process for this?

Too late: anchor babies.

“The Secret President”

So you just dropped like 2 million pregnant 3rd world—

You realize that.

There must be some kind of compromise.

Yeah. Send them back.

Ew, fucking gross.

I don't understand—

What you don't understand!

[A SAGA]

What don't you understand?

My land is your land!?

Yeah, and now the economy's in the trashcan.

I figure that's an upgrade from a black hole!

You don't understand that we're like leaking—

—like bleeding—-

Money!

Half of this money's not even being recirculated into the United States!

Send for uncle juan, Camilla, and all of my pregnant nieces.

Dalè.

ARRIVA

STORM THE GATES.

Yo, lady.

What the fuckz

At least put shoes on the baby.

PUT THE DIAPER IN THE TRASHCAN.

Where's your mother?

I am my mother.

Goddamn!

What is the United States?!

Racists!

Trust me

I'd rather die than not

Either way,

I'll love you all the same

It's unfortunate

The wicked ones

Atop us, with the fortunes

With no one to love

But piles of bodies,

Power plays and flaccid phalic

Valid fantasies and tragic

Dissatisfaction

All those bottles

And all those bodies

And all those models

You still can't mount a horse.

All that power

And all that money

And you don't want me

But she doesn't do much

But want to love

Pity no one up there seems to know what is does

Love, is for us

The ugly under you

Trust me, I'd rather die tonight

Than wake up alone

Foaming in the mouth

With no one there to froth with

Trust me

I'd rather die than not

Either way,

I'll love you all the same

I guess I'm slag bro

Another attack

It's fine;

I'm just not attractive

Not even fit for his

Side piece of ass

How's that go?

What's that life

Just take a knife to my back

Cause I can't go back bro

I went black bro

Flatline

He caught my eye,

Then I went flat broke

If I could draw a line up my spine

And unwind the entire world

I would, though

If I could tie a knot to the knot in my back

And then just jump rope

Off a long rope

From a strong pole

Here's hoping

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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