Friends,
Robert F Kennedy Jr. here. By now you’ve probably heard about a silly thing I did in Central Park a few years ago involving a recently deceased bear cub and an old bicycle of mine. It was supposed to be a joke but I guess the death of one of God’s creatures who had its whole life in front of him outweighed the punchline…see there’d been a lot of bike accidents in Central Park. Nothing? Suit yourself.
So, I was talking with my good friend and domestic policy advisor, Rosanne Barr, and she said I should get out ahead of any other stories that might be piling up in my closet, and I decided to go to the best news source in the country, but apparently the New York Times doesn’t accept submissions from a Hotmail account. Then I tried the Washington Post, the Wall Street Journal, the Toledo Blade, the Doylestown (PA) Intelligencer, Larry and Luverne’s Mid-states Blog and Grill, Perfect 10, Wikileaks, Wikibeaks (a website dedicated to birds and other avian pursuits), the Old Time Gospel Hour, Working Mom on the Run, Rudy’s Thoughts (which I mistakenly thought was run by the former mayor of New York but it’s actually that little guy who played one snap for Notre Dame), xHamster, and Other Rudy’s Thoughts (the real deal) but they all declined so I ended up at this place, Mike Malloy Wizardry and Septic Service (Editor’s note: that is a wholly owned subsidiary of MMW News Service, so we let it slide).
Here's goes.
You remember back a few months when Boeing was having all those problems? Well, at least one wasn’t their fault. I was flying with my good friend, Andy Dick, and he’d already blown a couple rails before we got on board. I hadn’t; well, that night at least. Anyway, we’re going from Baltimore to Pittsburgh for a rally at Three Rivers Stadium (I didn’t know it had been torn down) and Andy says, “Hey, wouldn’t it be funny if you loosened the bolts on that emergency door?” I always travel with a socket set in my bag, so I under did a couple bolts, just a little, and whoo-man, that cabin de-pressurization is no joke! Sucked the hot towel right off my face, and also the one I had on my junk. Luckily nobody on the plane was hurt and neither were any members of the Boy Scout troupe whose ill-fated camping trip ended in terror when the door landed within 20 feet of their tent. They managed to escape that and the subsequent fire caused by the Dwight Yoakam-branded soldering iron I’d bought from Sky Mall that I tried to use, unsuccessfully, to weld the door back on. My apologies.
About a month ago, I was out with my friend Dennis Rodman and were doing a little thing we like to call “Peyote Tuesdays” when we walked into the offices at CrowdStrike. The staff there were happy to see us and Dennis talked them into letting us roll out the newest software update. Pro tip: Java Script seems much easier when you’re stoned.
The next day we woke up in an abandoned Stuckey’s wearing only necklaces made of circus peanuts and we see that airlines are cancelling thousands of flights, banks shut down, and a lot of pacemakers went into Bosa Nova mode, causing many elderly Americans to injure themselves doing the dance of love. I still don’t know if we had anything to do with it but it seems possible.
Now, about that brain worm. I was at a Sbarro with Ozzy Osborne and I asked him if that legendary story of him sniffing up ants was true. He said, “Robab, I dodden known fucking anats sloop me nose!” And I said, “Wow that’s very insightful.” But then he said that was child’s play compared to the time he snorted meal worms in a Carl’s Jr. parking lot in Lompoc.
“Do you know where we could get some?” I asked.
Turns out, he always travels with a box of them and a habi-trail in case he comes across a good deal on ferrets. The Sbarro manager told us we had to leave; not because of the meal worms but because we were shirtless and had painted letters on our chests as a joke. Sadly, we sat in the wrong order so it just read “CK..FU”. I do regret that.
Once outside, we got down to business. I vividly remember having six go in but only sneezing out five. I had thought I’d just miscounted but then my doctor – Dr. Von Droopy Droop Puddingstein – said in his thick Austrian accent, “Mr. Kennedy, according to these scans you have a worm inside your skull, but you may want a second opinion because I’ve replaced my MRI machine with this old refrigerator. The images it produces are a little blurry, but it keeps beer cold.”
And there was also this time that I started a completely ridiculous run for president in which I embarrassed my family , had no chance of winning, chose a running mate who nobody’d ever heard of – I want to say her name is Kathy something – and despite my best efforts to focus on issues like vaccines causing autism, socialism, and fetishism, I only ended up on the news when I did something irredeemably stupid, and then after I’d inspired a few million Americans to “Declare your Independence” from the corrupt two-party system, I begged Kamala Harris and Donald Trump to give me a cabinet job in exchange for an endorsement. But still, I’m proud of the campaign and…uh oh, just got a text that the pet Rhino that Mike Tyson gave me just trampled some high school kids. I loaned it to them as a mascot for their first football game of the season but now most of the starters are hurt and probably won’t play. I gotta go see if I can find it before it barges into that nitroglycerin factory. Been there, done that.
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