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What Happened With The Interview With Hillary Clinton

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During an afternoon stroll in the woods near his vacation home in Chappaqua New York, Boo Feeder came upon a figure draped with a black curtain. Fearing for his life and the lives of his family just yards away, Feeder took action to thwart the threat.

” Ah hah! I got you! ” Boo Feeder screamed as he tackled the angel of death to the ground.

” Get off of me you, you, you MAN! ” was heard from inside a black cape that was twisting and turning through a copse of poison ivy. The robe then went flying away to reveal the person, not spirit, inside.

” Hill, Hill, Hillary? Hillary Clinton? What are you doing walking in the woods dressed as the Grim Reaper? By the way, you have poison ivy leaves stuck in your hair “. Feeder said while composing himself to maybe, just maybe tick off a box on his Before-I-Die list and land an interview with the former First Lady. He picked out the poison from Clinton’s hair that was curiously still in perfect shape after the wrestling then asked ” Madam Secretary, would you please give me a few minutes of your time to talk about your book, ‘What Happened’? As a matter of honesty, Feeder then gave up his identity as a freelance reporter.

” Well, well, well. First you accost me then you want to make nice with me? Typical man! ” she said through clenched teeth. ” But, you did get that nasty bush out of my hair so yeah, ask away. This is NOT for public consumption! Whatever we talk about is between me and you only! You got that Beef Eater? “

” It’s Boo Feeder  ma’am. ” He corrected. ” Mrs. Clinton you have my word that this is not for everyone, I’m just curious why you wrote that book and why you feel it necessary to lay blame for your loss ” he lied. Of course he would publish his best “get” of his career. If her bevy of lawyers tried to sue him, he would reiterate Hillary’s husband’s infamous retort of ‘What is, is?’.

” You say it was the Russian’s, James Comey and the misogynistic racists on the right that handed defeat to you as a thief in the night. Do you take any responsibility for letting  Donald Trump beat you like a tired old punching bag in Gold’s Gym? “

” You stupid, stupid wang dangled human piece of ( censored )! That golden haired slob DID NOT BEAT ME! I won the popular vote Boo Jerko! Three freaking million more people wanted ME to turn the White House into a Pink Palace. You got that Freaker? ” Hillary Clinton said while wrapping herself back into the soiled black rag.

” Those three million voters were all in California. Do you believe that one state should speak for the other forty nine? The Electoral College was written to assure the nation that presidential elections were as fair as possible. Do you believe our American system is unfair? Do you want to eliminate the Electoral College? Really? “. Feeder said with a face contorted with disbelief in what he was asking the person that so wanted to be the most powerful person on the planet.

” Electrician College? What a joke! Those damned wire strippers stole my future! I could have been the ruler of the whole ( censored ) world! ME! It was supposed to be ME! I WON but look where I am and where that orange head bastard is. He’s down there in effing Florida making nicey nice with his dirty-ass-immigrant wife and I’m walking in a forest of ugly-ass trees practicing my taraweeh prayers in a dirty black sheet. Jeeze! I HATE that college that isn’t even a college! ” Mrs. Clinton finally had herself wrapped and was about to flip the rest of the cape over her head when she began flailing her hands to her head and ran away screaming like a Banchee ” POISON IVY! Holy shit! Back Fu(censored)ing bastard. You spread poison ivy all over my beautiful face! MEN! OH Allah, or whoever you are down there, strike that MAN off this planet that I, HILLARY DAMN CLINTON, should be the leader of ! “

Stunned beyond words, Boo Feeder submitted this report with no further content. We asked if he wanted to add any afterthoughts to his impromptu interview. All he could say is ” Nah, man. My hands are covered with calamine lotion and I’m a little high from the Prednisone so, no, but thanks anyway “hillary-clinton-laughing.

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Written by boofeeder

September 15, 2017 at 4:34 pm

An Interview With Hurricane Harvey

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hurricane-eyeWell out of harm’s way, Boo Feeder met up with Hurricane Harvey in the Kisatchie National Forest in Louisiana. To prepare for this encounter, Feeder met with a descendant of the Kichai tribe, Henry Whispers In The Wind. Henry gave Boo Feeder a crash course in the art of interpreting a hurricane’s swooshes and whirs of the wind into the English language. Whispers In The Wind explained that hurricanes talked  in a language all their own but Hurricane Agnes changed all that. Seems that Agnes was looking for her mother, Gladys, who disappeared after she tangled with Cape Hatteras. Agnes was asking anyone in her path about her mother but nobody understood a swish she said. After that, all subsequent hurricanes became well versed to communicate with anyone, anywhere. Henry said that Floyd was the loudest and most vulgar then Katrina came by to apologize for her older brother. “Some apology!” the Kachai under chief laughed out loud with a smirk hidden in a smile. He warned our reporter to be prepared, Harvey was the fiercest package of wet wind he’d ever talked to.

I’m here with what was once Hurricane Harvey here in the Kisatchie Forest, As soon as this pack of horses meanders by, I hope to get a few words in sideways with the storm.

” Tropical Storm Harvey! Thanks for allowing me a moment in your short life to speak with you.” I said while standing in a pile of horse dung.

” It’s Hurricane Harvey to you, poop-for-brains. The way you people prejudge and amass false allegations Really gets my tail in an uproar. I leave my peeps in Africa then you called me Incest! That Really blew me over! I mean, really? My father was Matthew and my mother was Hermine. Totally unrelated! I was feeling fine when visiting the Yucatan people and was ready to go home to my mommy but that word got louder and louder. It felt like a needle in the eye, you lying bastards! That’s when I decided to fuel up for a week of revenge. Sucking all that water from your Gulf of Mexico made me sick! What do you people put in that water? Tasted like burnt oil! That and playing that word “Incest” over and over, around and around in my head turned me into the monster you asked for. Take that Mister Boom Seeder!” he said while horses stood in front of me kicking up their hoofs as if to mock the wind.

” It’s Boo Feeder” I corrected him.” Incest? What are you winding about? Nobody accused you of being the child of your brother and sister or any other disgusting family connection. You were known as Invest 91L. Invest not incest you old windbag! Invest is what meteorologists call a ‘Investigating Area’ for storms coming to life. ALL hurricanes and tropical depressions are an “Invest” before they’re given a name. ‘Invest’ you swarmy black cloud, Not ‘Incest’! ” A wild horse bitch-slapped me with her tail every time I said ‘incest’, not that I blamed her.

In what could be described as a death rattle, the pines and grasses mixed hundreds of dust devils then a dying Harey groaned ” Invest? Invest not incest? Oh holy mother of wind! What have I done! I am So sorr…..”. With that, the late Invest 91L who grew up to be Hurricane Harvey, blew out his last breath and floated out to the meadows.

As I was riding bareback on a wild horse ( not really! ), my cell phone buzzed my butt. On the other end I could barely make out ” Booze? This here is Irma. Henry Whispers In The Wind gave me your number. I am warning you and all your snobby-ass people: You will pay for calling me Depressed!” Screaming even louder ” I AM NOT DEPRESSED! “.

Oh lord, not another one!

Written by boofeeder

September 2, 2017 at 10:08 pm

AN INTERVIEW WITH ROBERT LEE ON RACISM

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After a long, well deserved vacation, our relentless reporter, Boo Feeder, has come back with a vengeance for the truth. In that respect, Mr. Feeder has submitted this exclusive interview with Robert Lee.

“Hello Mr. Lee. I am grateful for your cooperation to grant this session.”

“Cessation? Boy, I am not in favor of division. Never have been. Division is for sports like baseball, football and such. No sir. Not a fan of cessation. Next question.”

“No sir. We’re not talking about cessation. I was merely saying thank you for this interview. Now, some 152 years since you gave up and cried “Uncle!” to the North, statues and all memorials of you are being removed. Your legacy is that of racism, bigotry and hate. How do you feel about that?”

“Uncle? Uncle, boy! I give up! I done it once, I’ll do it again. Y’all taking down those statues is downright dirty pool, boy. What’s all them pigeons going to do? Drop their loads on the likes of you sonny boy. Buff Eater, that’s what! You take down statues and what’s next? Bird cages? Y’all gone cray cray!”

“Cray cray as in crazy? That’s funny to hear from a man that’s been dead for 147 years! I didn’t know they used that dumb dictum back in your day. What, by the way, do bird cages have to do with racism and discrimination?”

“Dismemberment? What you gonna do, cut off my head? My hands? My dang tongue for God’s sake? You want to destroy history like it never happened why stop with statues? Y’all do know the KKK burnt crosses, right? Why don’t you take them down too? Cray cray, boy! Next thing you know they’re gonna erase the Old Man from history books and Pawn Stars! And you call him a bigot? Why, boy, he wasn’t called The King Of Spades for nothin’! Marble man loved his blackies. Same as I do Buffy. You know I’m married to a black woman, right?”

Flabbergasted, I pulled myself off the floor to finish the fake. “Sir, I  was told by the medium, Miss Gypsy Rose, that you are the Robert E. Lee of Virginia fame she brought back in a seance . Obviously you are not him. Who the hell are you?” I asked him with my nose squarely in his face.

“Saying? What sayings you blabbing about? Boy, my name IS Robert Elliott Lee. That was my wife you talked to, Gypsy Rose. She’s a black woman who took in this hard of hearing old bucket of bones. Now if you don’t mind, I’m taking my Oldsmobile ‘Traveler” back to the projects. It’s suppah time boy!”

Gypsy Rose Lee. Oh Gads! How could I have have been duped by that attractive European, not black, woman? As Mr. Lee got in his Cutlass, I received a call from another of Mrs. Lee’s customers, Benjamin Franklin. He tells me that his monument is being removed in Philadelphia. Seems his initials, BF, is offensive to students at Drexel. They are circling Ben screaming BF Bigot Fascist! Bigot Fascist Down To Ashes!” Oh Lord, Robert Lee is right. The world is Cray Cray.

Written by boofeeder

August 25, 2017 at 4:07 pm

COMEY MEETS IN PRIVATE MEETING WITH SENATE PANEL THEN LEAKS BOMBSHELLS!

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comeyAfter the public interrogation, the former FBI czar met with the Senate Intelligence Committee members in private to answer questions that he refused to answer in an open setting. Soon afterwards, Comey leaked an audio tape that he secretly had hidden in classic FBI fashion: a 007 style recorder planted in the Windsor knot of his tie. When the top secret testimony was over, James Comey ducked into the mens room to drop the nickel size recorder in the waste bucket for his cohort at the New York Times to dig out of the trash later. Unknowing to Comey, our own reporter, Boo Feeder, was using the restroom for its intended purpose and saw what the fired FBI director let go in the garbage. It is from that tape that we are able to tell our dear readers what went on behind closed doors.

The edited version goes like this:

Richard Burr: Thank you Mr. Comey for meeting with us.

James Comey: Like I had a choice ( chuckles )

Susan Collins: Mr. Comey, you admitted, much to my surprise, that you leaked a memo to the New York Times about your meeting with President Trump but you didn’t leak the fact that the FBI was not investigating the president for any ties with Russia. Or did you and it didn’t get out?

Comey: No Senator Collins, I did not leak anything to the Times. My best buddy did that. He and I have a relationship that is very private so we can share

Mark Warner: Whoa Jimmy! No need to get yourself in another jackpot!

Collins: Mr. Warner! I am not done! Please do not interrupt me when I

Kamala Harris: That’s enough out your lobster lips you old bag! I have some hair dye in my purse you might want to use. There’s a strand of gray peeking through your pine tree hair Suzy honey. Hi Jimbo! You’re looking fine today! How about we do lunch then you can do me!

Comey: No Kam, I can’t do that, sorry. I have to see a man about a boat ( the sound of swallowing water? is loud and clear ). After that my banker asked to see me about a recent deposit.

Marco Rubio: Your banker? Recent deposit? Were you paid to leak that memo and who paid you Mr. Commy?

Comey: It’s Coh-me Mr. Rubik, not Commie. I have served America all my adult life and resent your insinuation that I am a communist. But, if I were a commie, that would not be illegal. As you know there are plenty of commies in Washington DC but I am not one of them. I demand you take that back!

Rubio: Or what? You’ll take your crayons and go

Dianne Feinstein: ( yelling ) Stop it children! Jimmy, you and I go back a long way and I think it’s time we end this nonsense before you say something you’ll regret later. Miss Harris? I’m free for lunch and would love to be with ( pause ) go with you. My treat sweetie! ( a muffled female voice is heard saying “Gotchya baby” but we aren’t certain it was Kamana Harris’ voice )

John Cornyn: Okay, we all have somewhere to go so let’s get on with why we are here. Mr. Comey you say now that the FBI did not investigate Russian interference in our election but didn’t leak that to your buddy or anyone else. But, you did find it necessary to leak a memo about a conversation with Donald Trump who was only hoping that a man who served his country with valor and heroism from public disgrace. Now you infer that there are communists in DC who may be influencing our

Joe Manchin: Don’t answer that Jimmy! ( screaming ) You don’t deserve to be treated like this. You are our friend and noble comrade! You

Burr: HA! Now we know who to put a target on! You and all the other anti-Americans in public office and in the mass media. You are all going down!

Harris and Feinstein: ( in unison ) Going down?!

Harris ( in sing-song ): Glory be! Let’s get outa here Di baby!

And with that, the meeting ended. Comey and most of the senate committee hustled their way out of the building. Kamala Harris and Dianne Feinstein were seen hand in hand running past the horde of photogs into one car then sped away.

 

Disclaimer:

This is Fake News! It is written to put a humorous spin on our ever depressing news of the days. None of it is true and not meant to be construed as such!

 

 

Written by boofeeder

June 9, 2017 at 6:07 pm

Application To MSNBC For A TV Host Job

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Boofeeder recently applied to MSNBC for the host position vacated by Corrine Brown ( D-Fla) who was to be filling in for Rev. Al Sharpton while he goes on leave for a sex reassignment operation. Whether his or not is not known at this writing. Nevertheless, ex-congresswoman Brown will be away serving time, er … visiting her constituents at Allenwood Federal Prison for the next dozen or so years. The job opportunity comes at a time when Boofeeder would welcome the extra income to support his ailing cat, Boo.

Following is a copy of the application:

Name: Boofeeder

Sex ( if decided ): Male

Age ( you may use a Common Core calculator ): 64 – (12 moons x’s 2 polar bears x’s 3 icebergs ) + 3 fingers = 29 years old.

How many times can you repeat “Russia” in sixty seconds? 179

Which syllable in “impeachment” is emfasized? :  Emphasized? That would be on IM-peach-ment

How many eye rolls can you do when the name “Trump” is menshunnned?  Mentioned? As many as it takes to get the job

Are you able to shout “Trump Loves Putin!” without spitting?  Yes, maybe.

Trump is in Israel now. Give a brief example of how you would begin your report if you were there: Here we are with Trump in Israel which is only 1600 miles from Moscow. That’s less than three hours away from Russia, plenty of time to collude with Putin on how to fix more elections. Russia, Russia, Russia! IMpeach Trump! Russia, Russia. Too damn close to Russia!

Does Miladia Trump speak Russian?  Melania? Of course! ALL Trumps speak Russian. They are Russia’s best friends!

How Much Do You Hate Trump? RUSSSSSSSSIA!!!!!!!

May 22, 2017 Update:

Boofeeder was turned down for the following reasons per an email received this morning that reads in part:

Mr. Ms. or Wz.  Boofeeder, We are happy to inform you that you will not be working for us. You are clearly too enamored with Trump to fill the chair in our esteemed studio. For one, spelling is Not to be korrected. Words cannot be put in a box, they must be free to be themselves whatever that is. Also, 179 times is all you can manage to say Russia in one minute? Our hosts and guests top our minimum requirement of 225 Russias/Minute. Also, we know you are a liar! 2 polar bears times 12 moons? Really? Everyone knows there will be no more polar bears in 12 moons! Study up on Global Warming and speeding up your Russia spewing skills then get back to us. But! Be quick be cause imPEACHment will be sooner than you thing.

So much for that! Looks like Boofeeder will be selling his watch collection to pay the veterinarian.

Written by boofeeder

May 22, 2017 at 3:58 pm

BOB BECKEL TAKES AIM AT DONALD TRUMP

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Written by boofeeder

March 15, 2017 at 6:08 pm

BOB BECKEL TAKES AIM AT DONALD TRUMP

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After an extended vacation our fearless reporter, Boo Feeder,  has returned for your pleasure.  Mr. Feeder played gumshoe to track Bob Beckel to an after hours bar on 14th Street in southeast DC.  Carefully memorizing the secret knock on the oak paneled door, Boo Feeder rapped three times, kicked twice then hummed the tune of ‘One For My Baby’ into the six inch sliding steel hatch. He was let in and, luckily for him, the patrons were too intoxicated to notice or care who the guy with an Orioles tee-shirt tucked into a pair of slightly too large pair of jeans. Feeder was happy to have lost a few pounds these past few months but not nearly as elated to have caught Bob Beckel alone with his cheeks falling over the sides of a barstool. He sat next to the come-back liberal on Fox News and placed his phone between them to record the conversation.


Beckel began with”Orioles huh? They blew it in the World Series last years. Why the hell you thank they’ll win this year? THEY”RE DONE I tell youse! Hey slim, what’s that chatterbox doing on the bar?” 

“It’s my cellphone Mr. Beckel. I’d like to have our one-on-one recorded if that’s okay. Okay?”

“What the hell do I care asshole? Orioles suck!” Beckel said after slamming a bottle of soda on the bar.

“O’s haven’t been to the big show since 1983 when they beat Philly in five but that’s not what I want to talk to you about. Glad to see you’re drinking Coke not Coor’s but why here in a bar? Isn’t it dangerous for an alcoholic to sit at a bar at 3:30 in the morning?”

“None of your effing buzzniss buster. What you here for? Trump put you up to this? That freakin’ lying con man bazztert.” Beck was shouting now. With both fists pounded on the bar he continued “FREAKING LYINGS DRUMP! His goldamn fault that I’m sherry-er. Sum uva BRITCH flat I’m high against.” One cheek followed the other to the floor leaving Bob Beckel to shout more indiscernible words into the unpolished dirty wood flooring.

“But Bob, you’re drinking Coca Cola not some Russian vodka. How can you be drunk? Why do you hate Donald Trump so much? Isn’t anger poison to your sobriety?” Boo Feeder said compassionately. Beckel was like the political equivalent to Howard Cosell; a man you loved to hate. Not like this though. His fellow babbling, incoherent, angry Democrat friends can tolerate such vitriol but Feeder is not one of them.

“Druck? I’m not a truck! So I takes few pills so onest a while. SOO FreakING SO! I don’t take Votka so there your Trump bastred. I love efferyfuggingbody cept that bitsh Thrump. Heza LIAR! What ju mean Russia? You a goddam Russkier from that muffa Republicant Troump? GET OUR HERA BAZZERT! I TOLE YOU LOVE NOT HARE!” Beckel continued the rant rolling on the floor mumbling more profanity.

Boo Feeder watched helplessly as the straight jacket was wrestled on to Bob Beckel’s dirty suit and hauled off to St. Elizabeth’s Hospital. His suspenders were taken off for safety sake and tossed in the direction of Feeeder. He picked them up to hang them in his office where they are today. A memorial to the man that once was and is now in need of much prayer.

May God help Bob Beckel and all the other Trump haters that are so filled with anger that they defy the very principles they vie for.

 

Written by boofeeder

March 15, 2017 at 5:31 pm