display | more...

Hello friends, this is your friend Berhardt Goats (to friends known as "Behr"). I hope life is treating you reasonably well as we fight to get our country back again after it was taken over by Kenyan strongman Barack Obama and turned into a police state. On that front we have good developments with true American Donald Trump rising up to fight for us after so much malarky and helping us realize what it means to make American great again! Cheers!

Some of you may remember when about a decade ago I made a rash decision to move to Wichita to work in horse stables for a man of questionable intent. I am a middle aged man of mixed ancestry who is bald and while I have had much success in the business world with various schemes (causing me to be hunted mercilessly by the goons in the service of erstwhile maniac Joe Biden) there are times when I want a simple life. Some days it is hard to get it up in the morning and put on a business suit and come up with a business plan to fool people into giving me their money in return for pie in the sky. So I understand the motivations of people who give in and accept Obama's promise of living off the state and becoming slaves to our Kenyan overlords.

I don't want to get political here because I know (have knowledge of) many of your mixed feelings about the current regime and their plans to subjugate us all in part by signing up and paying for death panels (aka Obamacare). What I want to talk about is my recent decision to move to Nebraska to pursue an opportunity I found on Craigslist while surfing the internet on my computer (which is someething people do now commonly as opposed to twenty or thirty years ago). This opportunity that was posted offered a chance to make some legitimate money by offering oneself in exchange for cash money that was tax free, which I am in favor of unless it involves meth which makes your teeth rot and dentists are pricey.

I hate terrorists as much as the next guy, but when I got to Nebraska I ended up in this dirty little room with three young women who looked like they did a lot of illegal drugs (or at the very least misused prescriptions a lot as in more than they should as far as what a legitimate doctor would recommend). I felt a little uncomfortable but hating terrorists the way I do I sat there in the room with these women and enjoyed some Skittles candy from a bag without offering ANY to the three women. One of them had glazed over eyes and stared into space while the second one kept falling asleep and drooling and the third wasn't very bright (which I could tell from the fact that she had a children's educational level dictionary on her lap).

After about forty-five minutes this man wearing leather pants and a sombrero came out holding an open can of Miller Lite (which is my most favorite beer by the way in case you were wondering about that aspect of the story). He looked around the room at the three women and then at me and started shaking his head like he was disappointed (but couldn't have been because I am a top earner in the business world and I was coming to him). He finished the Miller Lite and crushed the can impressively (as it was completely crushed and not just a little bit dented like when liberals try to do that of course liberals don't drink Miller Lite due to snooty). Then he looked back and me and said "Why don't you follow me."

I had been picked first which was a delightful turn if I do say so myself (and I just did as a matter of fact). Having long been upset about being picked last in gym class in school (due partly to my Middle Eastern ancestry) this cheered me up. I'm not completely Middle Eastern in my DNA of course, as my father was German and my mother was of Palestinian stock but I get by. I wasn't sure if the man in the leather pants cared about this so I had not included it on the resume I brought with me just in case it was needed (I'd never applied for a job as a prostitute before).

Now I don't judge people unless they hang it all out there begging to be judged so I wasn't saying anything about the leather pants and sombrero combination (although I found it a poor choice as far as accessorizing). I was taken to a dimly lit room with a plain table and two folding chairs that reminded me of one of them interrogation rooms on those television cop shows. He had me sit down and sat down himself across the table at which point I offered my resume to him which he accepted and then stared at looking confused (probably couldn't read due to Obama's assault on the educational system). He put it down on the table doing that head shaking thing that was beginning to really piss me off a bit.

"Do you have any more Miller Lite?" I asked him because there was too much silence and thought we needed an ice breaker on account of the sheer amount of silence that had befallen us in this little room.

"Look man do you know what kind of job this is or are you just that fucking stupid?" was what he said at that point (offensive tone used).

I told him I was aware that I had very little experience given that my wife had cheated on me with a handsome (non-bald) man and that I had tried (and failed) to get sex from my church-going best friend's wife years ago and there was this other woman I thought I was going to do it with who was way too into the idea of sex with elves (not my thing). Other than that I wasn't very experienced at the sex (although I have watched a lot of videos on the computerized internet). I then told him I was a fast learner and inquired about a training program (showing initiative).

"Usually the bitches jump right in," was what he told me with a kind of sneer on his face (still offering no Miller Lite but it was probably one of those situations where he didn't have a liquor license on account of Obama.

He went on to tell me that because of the decline of family values under Obama's militant regime many girls were getting "taken" at an early age and got experience that way. Because Obama removed the laws we used to have prohibiting sex before marriage between a man and a woman there was all kinds of sex going on. I was intrigued and leaned across the table and smiled at leather pants man (in a non-creepy fashion). For the first time ever I was seeing a benefit in what had happened to my country in the thirty years since Obama and his Kenyan stormtroopers took over the nation during the infamous Red Dawn.

He said he had misgivings but that he would give it a chance, so I gave him a Donald Trump brochure (which seemed to fluster him) and then he walked me into what looked like a disused coal mine. There he handed me a pair of stretchy hot pants, go go boots and a shirt covered in rhinestones. He insisted I change into them (which felt weird honestly) and meet him in the front of the building (which I could only do by crawling through a coal mining shaft and then taking a short ride in a coal mining cart thing on tracks which was fun). When I got out there two large men helped me get into the back of a van and we drove down to some area where there were a lot of abandoned factories (due to Obama's crackdown on manufacturing). There I joined other tackily attired women and we waited while business men (such as myself) pulled up to the curb and whistled at us.

I didn't like it very much so I decided to go back to my beloved Baltimore and try my hand at a new business. I am now pretending to operate one of those insurance exchanges that are big now but the documents I provide are false and I charge way more than my competitors (while making it look like a better deal through the art of convincing which I am very good at).

I hope you have a nice weekend.

Your friend,

Berhardt Goates (friends call me Behr)

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.