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INTERVIEW WITH NANCY PELOSI AND HILLARY CLINTON ON GUN REGULATION

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hillpol

By a stroke of luck, fate, happenstance or whatever you want to call such a chance meeting, Boo Feeder found himself stuck in an elevator with Nancy Pelosi and 2016 losing presidential candidate, Hillary Clinton. Their conversation was, well, read the transcript for yourself:

Warning! Contains offensive, vulgar language.

” Mrs. Pelosi? Mrs. Clinton? What a surprise to find both of you here at the Trump International Hotel! ” I said while boarding the Executive Elevator on the third floor. Unbeknownst to the women, I reached around my back to press the Stop button. Penthouse suite be damned! There were too many questions to ask in just six floors.

” Who the hell are you? ” They said in unison. Then Hillary said ” Oh holy freaking shit. It’s that lowbrow what’s-his-name, Boob Feeler. Hey! What the fuck? Why are we stuck in this piece of shit box? ” Then, again together, they screamed ” I love your box! “. Obviously the ladies had one or eighteen too many at the bar. This will be fun!

” Ladies. it is rumored that you are pooling resources to revise the second amendment. True? False? ” I asked with my back to the button panel.

Pelosi began with ” Revise my hairy, wet ass! That amendment is going DOWN! Who needs guns anyway? Boob Feeler! Love that name. You want to, you know….”

” Boo Feeder ma’am and no, I don’t want to feel you up. Thanks but no thanks. So, you mean to take guns away from all citizens? Everyone, Mrs. Pelosi? ”

Hillary Clinton piped in ” Goddam right Goof Baller! Nobody should have a gun. NOBODY! If there were no guns there would be no goddam gun fucking violence ASSHOLE! ” Then she turned to Mrs. Pelosi who was sucking her fingers and said to her ” Nan baby, it’s going to be okay. We’ll get in our suite and I’ll make everything fine, honey.”

I tried to ask them if they planned on outlawing knives, cars, hammers, tire irons and the like. Not to mention the scalpels of abortion doctors who kill over 200 babies a day but, without warning, the women attacked me with, you guessed it, guns! Both pulled 9mm Glocks out of their purses demanding I get them out of this box so they could get into boxes they both loved and pined for.

Funny thing was, when I let go of the Stop button, the women didn’t get out on the ninth floor. They inserted an Executive Pass key and, hand on hand, pushed the CT button. Now, what do you think they wanted to do in the Clock Tower in DC? This could be bad. Real bad.

Lucky for us all, their visit to the clock tower was not for nefarious means. They just wanted some ” alone time ” as Mrs. Pelosi told me later when I saw her and Mrs. Clinton at the bar sipping out of a bottle of  Drambuie with interlaced wet hands squeezing together tightly. Each had one hand on the bottle on the table and one hand on their pistol under the table. The mystery of why the clock bells struck seventeen times at the stroke of one, was solved!

 

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Written by boofeeder

October 6, 2017 at 4:20 pm

NANCY PELOSI CALLS FOR UNITY – OR WHAT

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In an exclusive interview with our Boo Feeder, Nancy Pelosi made some interesting observations that we are still trying to unravel. Read the question and answer session to form you own opinion. She was about to enter the Washington National’s stadium to watch the 108th annual Congressional Baseball Game when Feeder caught her in the elevator.

“Mrs. Pelosi, my name is Boo Feeder. Can I ask you a few questions before the game begins?”

“Feeder? Oh why yes of course! Your name ends in a vowel right? I always feel a special connection to our Italian – American heritage! ” She said while flailing her hands inside the tight space of an elevator.

Amazed that Mrs. Pelosi thinks an “r” is a vowel, Boo Feeder smiled then took advantage of the opportunity and continued the interview with ” Mrs. Pelosi, you called for Donald Trump to be impeached on Monday then one day later after the shooting of Steve Scalise said that you pray for Trump to have a successful presidency. Which one is it ma’am?”

“Young man! Why are we not moving? I pushed that button thingy for the penthouse suite and we haven’t left the first freaking floor!” She swung her arms so hard that her right hand hit Boo Feeder in the nose causing his delicate olfactory to spill blood all over his shirt. ” Hey pie-san you’re going to get blood on my Prada purse! You dumb wop! Get me out of here!” This time it was her left hand that she slung into his eye. “And hey pretty boy. What’s your name? Guido? Guido push that god damned button again. The one that has ML on it. Mi Lacasa! My home! Get me there goom-bah!”

Seeing no point to tell her ML was for the Mezzanine Level not whatever this crazy woman who’s now given him a black eye to match his broken nose, Boo went on ” Do you agree that the hateful, violent actions on the left such as mock beheadings and assassinations have ginned up the more mentally unstable citizens like the man who set out to massacre republicans?”

The elevator stopped then Pelosi stormed out screaming ” Where’s my people? Where the hell is my goddamned aide? Antonio, where are you sweetheart?” she kept yelling to crowds of people who kept clear of a woman who would have been best served with a straight-jacket than a Prada handbag.

Feeder, running after her with one hand squeezing his nose and covering his eye with the other looked just as insane as his prey. Then, lucky for him, someone on Pelosi’s staff swept her into a corporate box where he continued the conversation.

“Mrs. Pelosi, please can you tell me whether you blame the pundits, politicians and media for dividing the USA with acts of violence and what can you do to stop the madness?”

“Here boy, use this napkin on your nose. It’s disgusting!” She handed Feeder a Kotex she’d kept in her purse in remembrance  of happier days then said “Blame? Oh no, I don’t blame my dear friends Ratchet Madcowe, Dan Crathers or Katy Griffing or anybody. We have to get it on! You know what I’m saying pie-sang? How dare they be so sanctimonkeyous! C’mon Boosh, we got’s business to take care of!” She slurred out then rolled her head backwards demanding someone walking by the opened door “Boy! Get me a damned drink! Vodka on the rocks but not the Russian kind. Leave that for Donald Trump. He drinks Russian vodka you know. I think he should..” Pelosi stopped mid sentence to stand up and run out on to the walkway screaming ” Did you hear that? Some guy on the loudspeaker said ” Sherman shot a bullet down first base line!” then screamed “GET OUTA THIS GOD FORSAKING PLACE! The freaking ass tanks are coming for us with weaponage! ”

Boo Feeder let he go, trying to interview a sober Nancy Pelosi was hard enough. Making sense of Pelosi after she’s had one or seven too many was a task only MSNBC would partake in. He went to the nearest Quick Care to have his injuries patched up then drove home breathing through his mouth and negotiating 495 with one eye, a task almost as dangerous as an interview with Nancy Pelosi.

 

Written by boofeeder

June 16, 2017 at 5:00 pm

BARACK OBAMA PLAYS GOLF WITH RUSH LIMBAUGH’S BALLS!

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rushball

Shortly after feinting sorrow over the horrendous murder of an American journalist, our fearless reporter went undercover as Barack Obama’s caddy in a Martha’s Vineyard private golf course. He had only a few minutes to disguise himself before President Obama frolicked from a makeshift podium to the first tee but, to our delight, he pulled it off. Here is Boofeeder’s own John Q. Public’s report:

At hole number one, Mr. Obama twisted and bent to the rapping of N.W.A.. Moments after “Damn, that shit was dope”, Obama threw a fist in the air then turned to me to say ” Ah, boy! Ah, toss me one my, ah, balls. Feeling dope today! Give me Rush Limbaugh’s ball out of the sac. C’mon boy! It’s going to be a good damn day!”

I reached in the side pocket of his golf bag that was decorated with a profile of Obama at the Arc De Triomphe and a presidential seal below his shoulders. There were dozens of balls with photo’s printed on them. Glenn Beck, John Boehner, Sean Hannity and Bill O’Reilly slipped through my hands before I found Rush’s face.

“Damn boy! Give me that Limbaugh ball toot freakin sweet! I’m gonna smack the snot out of that cracker! Ah, you going to have to pick up the pace boy. I’ll be lucky to get in eighteen before some knucklehead interrupts me with another damn news piece I don’t give a rat’s ass about. Boy! I said now!” He demanded.

I handed him the ball and a request ” Mr. Obama? I respectfully ask that you not refer to me as ‘boy’. I’m a man. Served in Iraq and Afghanistan and now a police officer in Boston. Being your caddy today was an honor I proudly volunteered for and graciously accepted. I am not a ‘boy’. My name is John.” Mixing in fact with fiction made me feel like a politician but as they say ‘when in Rome…’.

“Ahh. You think ‘boy’ is offensive? Listen here boy, it’s only degrading when a white honky calls you that. But, ah, from one black man to another, ‘boy’ is a ‘nom de noir’. Nom de Noir! Just made that up, boy! You like…” As Obama was slapping himself on the back while bending over to put Limbaugh’s ball on the tee, his Blackberry jingled to an old gansta rap rhyme by Ice-T.

“Ah, yessir. Yessir. I know that sir. But..” he said in a lower voice as he kicked Limbaugh off the perch then continued ” Sir? Eric said it was okay. He said he got it from you that I should keep it cool and play golf today. Oh, you didn’t? What’s that George? Ah, yeah. I know. Yep, I did call him ‘Jim’ not James, but that’s what Eric…yessir. Good bye Mr. Soros. I’ll clean it up right after this vacation. Bye”. With that Obama teed up the ball with Rush Limbaugh facing directly at the club head and gave it a hard whack. “Take that El Honky!” he shouted.

The ball flew out about one hundred yards then took a nasty slice to the left and splashed into a creek. We got into the golf cart personalized with the presidential seal painted on the front, back and roof. I drove up to where the ball went out of bounds but Obama told me to move on up another fifty yards. He demanded another Rush ball and, after two mishits, landed the golf ball into a sand trap bordering the perfectly manicured green. The president walked past the trap and ordered me to toss him another ball “Ah, let’s have Nancy Pelosi boy. And, ah, hand me that putter with the rubber front. Can’t hurt Nancy! Always use a rubber when you spanking a woman like that, boy! Yep, put her lips on my balls, I did. Used one of those photo engraving machines in my spare time. You know, ah, when the folks in the cracker house get busy with writing talking points for me and my minions. Chris Matthews and all them at MSNBC, ABC, NBC, CBS all get told what to say so what else am I to, ah, do? I asked George if it was okay if I took up a hobby and he said ‘Balack, why don’t you go in the basement and play with your balls?’ And so I did! Started out pasting pictures on my balls then Michelle said ‘Brack! Get with it man. There’s a machine for stamping your balls. Use it or I’ll stamp on your balls myself!  Josh will bring one down to you. You stay put Brack. When George says it’s okay, I’ll come get you and your balls my damn self. You got that?’

The president laughed at the innuendo’s then tapped Nancy Pelosi on her inflated lips. The ball came up short of the hole but Obama picked it up and said to me “Ah, I’ll take a three on that boy. Birdied the first hole! That’s the way to start a round! Told you, boy, it was going to be a glorious day for me!”

Again, I couldn’t keep my big mouth shut and told him that there’s no way I could write down a ‘3’ on the scorecard that was printed with Barack Obama’s image and titled “Hope, Change, Fairways and Greens”. In reality it took him no less than ten strokes to get his balls in the hole. “Sir, one in the creek, two out, hitting three then swinging and missing twice before bouncing it in the trap, that’s six. You skipped the sand bunker to place a Pelosi ball five feet from the hole, that’s seven, eight. Then missed the putt and picked it up declaring a ‘gimme’, that’s nine, ten strokes on a par four. And you say to give you a three? No sir. In the name of integrity for the game, I can’t do that. Sir. And sir? My name is John, not Boy.”

“Boy! I told you that it’s only bigoted to call a black man ‘boy’ when it’s an albino bacon bits belegana saying it! Damn, boy, you know I am the POTUS, right? I can do whatever the hell I want to do. Rules, regulations, laws? That’s for little people, not top dawgs like me! Shit, boy, you know who I am? Playing this game of golf? It’s like ruling the world. I put the enemy’s face on a piece of wood and smash him, or her if you’re talking about that Palin or one of them Fox News girlies, and watch it go into oblivion. That’s, ah, war, my boy. One of these days a golf course will be just like the world I was promised to rule. George and Eric say that in a perfect world, the golf course of politics will be one big ass open field kept mowed by, ah, ‘surfs’ is what they said, whatever that means, with one humungous hole the size of New York City in the center. One world, one nation! With moi at the middle of it all! Yessir boy. You stick with me and I’ll….” Obama broke off his maniacal rant to take another call.

“Where? Free Go Son? Fergie’s Son? Sheeit, Eric, you going where? For what? Oh yeah, Josh told me about that. Damned white aryan cop murdered that innocent young brother. Ah, yep, Josh called me yesterday while I was on the ninth hole ’bout that. Cost me an eagle! Had to take a bird there. I took Glenn Beck and whipped his conspiring white cheeks in the lake. Cost me an eagle Eric! Yeah, ah, you go there and tell them I’m thinking of all them black people, ah, victims. You make sure of that, okay?”

The POTUS turned up the speakers in the cart with Capone N Noreaga screaming “100 channels, turn station, operation 140, Earthquake would bring glory, Noreaga, but for short just call me Nore Catagory, point-blank end of the story”. Obama said “Now that’s dope, boy! Boy? Boy? Where you going boy?”

It was more than I could take. I wiped off the charcoal and turned my white honky-ass face back to Barack Obama and said ” From one ‘boy’ to another: Your balls are all wet!” then tossed all his golf balls in the drink and ran like a scared cat back to my SUV and drove away with three black Cadillac’s chasing me. As I rounded the turn losing the Secret Service back at the gate, I saw Barack Obama kissing what looked like the Sister Souljah ball that slipped out of my hand at the second hole.

End of report.

 

 

 

Written by boofeeder

August 22, 2014 at 2:26 pm

NANCY PELOSI & HARRY REID FIND MH370 MISSING PLANE!

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Written by boofeeder

April 1, 2014 at 6:56 pm