High School Dating?


Finessing a date is pivitol to saving this nation from it’s bleak future.

Not only does the activity itself train your diplomatic ability, but the heartbreak that follows also prepares you for your political future - one where you helplessly watch your meticulously-crafted affordable healthcare plan be ripped apart by the incoming administration.

However, it’s quite lucky that they never found out about your secret cabal in the basement of the Comet Ping Pong pizzaria next door!

That pizzaria was the place where you took your first date. During that date, you took the opportunity to case the joint. Because dating bequests heavy expenditure, you got a job at the Comet, giving you full, unrestricted access to the facility. When your manager sends you to grab something from in the basement, you discover a large series of tunnels hidden behind a large plank of plywood. This plywood bore the insignia of the Democratic Party.

Two years later, you take control of the U.S. presidency. As you are sworn into office, you fondly remember what you found in those tunnels that day. Behind you, Nancy Pelosi lightly taps your shoulder and asks, “Do we have the greenlight, sir?” You take a moment to observe your adoring fans carpeting the National Mall. You imagine their future: free from civil unrest, from corporate cronies, from conservative dissenters. After today, you will revolutionize this nation as you know it. “Sir?” Pelosi hesitantly nags. And you, the one leading this socioeconomic powder keg of a nation, reply with the most arrogant response in the history of arrogant responses, maybe ever: “Go. Go forth my dear patriots and let us bathe this nation in fire.”