John Boehner takes a drag off his Camel Ultra Light cigarette, looks to Pro-Growth Republican Jesus and weeps with his whole face, allowing his body the freedom and liberty to process the aching pain of rejection. In this moment, staring into the crisp Ohio winter breeze, John Boehner wonders where it all began to go wrong for America’s love of John Boehner.
It wasn’t his failure to adequately use the word “Democrat” every chance he had, nor could it possibly be his unwavering advocacy for States’ Rights-Only country clubs. He was supposed to be a Speaker of The House Of Representatives for all time! A true champion of terrible people who already have everything. Someone schooled for life in the art of being as big of a dick as humanly possible without ever having to apologize to anyone. It was all coming together just a few short years ago.
Like President Obama’s historical election signifying the country’s hope for the future, John Boehner ushered in a new historical standard for the country’s faith in lowered expectations. And now, when he needs lower taxes on the wealthy and the destruction of Medicare and Social Security the most, the only friends he has ever known, crazy people, have abandoned him in his darkest hour.
He takes another long-winded pull off his cigarette, looks out into the quiet American Midwest landscape that he has fought for years to corrupt and poison. It’s nearly at peace, now. The years have not been kind, and although there is a glimmer of light throughout the land, the early winter evenings quickly give way to the darkness, and in this moment of profound introspection, John Boehner asks himself a serious question all alone out there in the yard– a question befitting a man who is third in line to the presidency in the midst of negotiating his own life or death political hostage crisis with the future of the country at stake: “If I were stranded on an island with my party right now, what would Eric Cantor’s face look like as he bit in to my still-beating heart and raised it up over his head in some melodramatic offering to the Cannibal-God of Republicanism?”