Droopy The Broke Baller

Droopy the Broke Baller



I Had A Dream . .

08.21.2016 · Posted in blog

Last night I dreamt that I was Paul Giamatti’s campaign manager and he was running against Trump for President. Paul Giamatti pulled out at the last minute with no explanation and by some law if a candidate pulled out before choosing a running mate and if nobody else wanted the spot then the campaign manager had to run for President.

So I ran for President.

I think I could have gotten out of it by some loophole but if I did then Trump would have automatically been the President because no one else in the entire country wanted to run against him. A good half of the country didn’t like Trump but no one wanted to disrupt their lives or have the media and Trump’s people finding dirt on them. Also, most people had either reluctantly come to accept that Trump would eventually be President or just felt so disconnected from the political process that they felt it didn’t really matter who was President. In fact, apathy was so rampant that when I asked people what important issues I should run on, no one had an answer.

Trump knew me from before all of this, either through politics or business or some mix of both, and we had a good relationship. He would say ridiculous things about me in the press and in debates, but we would meet up later and laugh about it in private. We didn’t personally dislike each other; we each just really didn’t want the other to be President.

The main things Trump used against me were my relative youth, inexperience, and some of my raunchy lyrics which he of course paraded through the press. But none of that really hurt my polls because everyone knew I was the youngest person to ever run and I was kind of thrust into the situation anyway. Plus I could explain everything I ever wrote and Trump had already said plenty of things on the campaign trail that “trumped” anything deemed offensive in my music. The biggest press problem I had was from a couple of ultra-liberal commentators who said I wasn’t tough enough on Trump and implied that I was a house slave.

My campaign was themed around the 1989 Batman flick. It took a week or two to clear paperwork for the Batman theme music, so for that first couple of weeks my temporary theme songs were “You’re The Man” by Marvin Gaye and “You’re The Man” by Nas. DC Comics cleared all the Batman usage rights, which kind of surprised me because I’d been such a big Spider-man/Marvel fan all my life. So my campaign colors were black and gold with the occasional yellow. I called my supporters “Gothamites” and everybody would show up at my campaign stops wearing Batman and New Orleans Saints paraphernalia. It was a (flash)mob scene; a Comic Con panel mutated with a Saints tailgate party.

Then my staff threw me a surprise party; not because I had won (Election Day hadn’t come yet), but to relieve me from the pressures of having to run in this situation. The party had some kind of kinky Harley Quin theme involving four exotic dancers bedecked in white bikinis with purple and fuchsia feathers and a gigantic vat of liquified peaches.

Then I woke up.

There is no particular point to this story. I’ve just heard that you should write your dreams down upon waking.

So I wrote.

Y’all have a nice day.

(This dream was brought to you by a pair of “Fishbowl” beverages from Tajze Lounge in Rochester and some fire-assed weed.)



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