It was a day like any other in Janesville Wisconsin or would have been except for one unfortunate detail. The cows were mooing, the paper mills were milling and the landmines were still giving miners cancer. But then Paul Ryan came to town to visit his parents and upset the balance of this fragile ecosystem. He was first seen at Publix one day, by a little old lady named Betty Mae Davis.
“I wanted to say hello to that nice young man over yonder with the red cap. I had just put a can of Bush’s southern style baked beans next to the prime rib in my cart and I was about to say hello to this nice young man when I heard this terrible noise coming from his phone. It sounded so angry …more like a machine than any musical instruments I ever heard of. I don’t think he was a very nice young man after all.”
Another shopper who wishes to remain obvious confirms this poor woman’s story:
“Paul Ryan smiled like he enjoyed putting the fear of God in my ere grandmammy. Near done gave her a heart attack. He just grabbed some Jimmy Dean Sausages and stopped at ere aisle 10 over there. He’d set his eyes on this purdy woman in tight yoga pants, with really white teeth…like a movie star.”
The final shopping moments of Paul Ryan were in fact witnessed by a woman with veneers. When asked if she cared to comment she said the sprouted pumpkin seed butter here was terrible. When asked to further comment about Paul Ryan’s strange behavior she was more verbose.
“He was hitting on me, but he really sucked at it. I took one look at him and my third eye told me I hadn’t saved the planet for this. First, he said he loved Publix. Then things got real weird. He started talking about being American. He said like America, no one had any reason to dislike Publix…something about, “We all shop here on equal ground like our forefathers intended.” People start to stare but they don’t say anything. It’s almost as if he was watching and waiting for someone to say something, like some McCarthy era nightmare except he was looking for Publix haters instead of soviets. Then the unbelievable happened.
Okay. So get this. Everyone knows the fish section with the lobster tank is right outside aisle 10 and it just so happened that as he was scanning for Publix enemies of the state, his eyes fell on the lobsters. Being irritated and scared by the racket he was making, they were snapping their claws like woke beat poets or Mexican women dancing with Maracas. And who could blame them? Just look at those beady little eyes of sadness peering out the tank. I think I’d be a little trigger happy too if I was on death row for being delicious with butter. But man, they pissed Paul Ryan off for whatever reason.
He started calling them good for nothing, lazy wet blankets…saying they were being destroyed by their own pessimism and culture of poverty. Clueless seems like such a generous word for this asshole. He was totally disconnected from the fact he and the lobsters could share the same geography but a different set of circumstances. If you ask me, the man strokes the meritocracy myth so hard…If it were his own dick, there would be blisters by now. He just kept going on and on. I think he was drunk. Either way I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to shove his face down the tank and let the lobsters have a party. But then I asked myself earnestly, “What would Deepak Chopra would do?” I’m still not sure to be honest because most of his quotes don’t make sense, but anyway…. The prospect of misaligning my chakras and getting an assault charge after drinking enough coconut water to sink a manatee, provided enough discouragement for one day.”
Clearly Paul Ryan has caused much emotional distress to both vacationers and locals in Janesville, Wisconsin. We expect a formal apology when he reads this, but in the mean time let’s go back to Donna with the weather at 11.