This is the 5th day of the week-long blog of Chad Arthur Helmuth (as told to his son, Jack Helmuth). Chad, a devout small government Republican and die-hard Ronald Reagan supporter, recently awoke from a 27 ½ year coma. Jack has been chronicling his father’s very personal and private ordeal and posting it on the comedy website Funny or Die. What a douche.
BLOG DAY 5
What a difference 24 hours makes! Nancy, let someone else get the suitcase. I’ll be right there.
Sorry, that was former First Lady Nancy Reagan. Yes, the same former First Lady Nancy Reagan who used to be married to formerly alive President Ronald Reagan, my hero. It would be really fucking weird if it was coincidentally a different former First Lady Nancy Reagan. Maybe I’ve over-thinking this one…
Here’s what happened: Nancy was getting ready for bed two nights ago and, as she does every night before going to bed, she was watching footage of a cow pooping on the news on Funny or Die (http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/bbd667cc15 ). After hitting refresh again and again, she accidentally saw my son’s blog on the main page. Moved by my plight, she was on a private jet an hour later and, lo and behold, she showed up at the hospital last night in a sensible red dress, holding a Hefty bag full of embryonic stem cells.
It turns out that Nancy is such a fan of stem cell research that she has, in cooperation with every government in the world (except ours), created an incredible stem cell farm that produces breathtaking new medical advances every day. “There’s more placenta there than you can shake a stick at,” I said to her, and we laughed. She has a beautiful laugh. “What do you serve at the cafeteria there,” asked I, “Embry-omelet’s?” She laughed again. “Why, there’s more afterbirth residue there than at the Palin household,” I said, and we both laughed, even though I’m not even sure I can explain that joke.
Next thing I know my dick is in her mouth.
Long story short, we totally did the nasty. It was awesome. At first, on my end, I had to look past a few things that were kind of turn offs. Let’s just say that when I first explored her inner workings, I was reminded of the beginning of “Raiders of the Lost Ark” when Indiana Jones enters the ancient Peruvian cave. Go back and watch the scene. Literally step by step, from entering the cave to picking up the idol, is what it’s like preparing Nancy Reagan for love-making.
And boy did we make love. She is a wonderful lover with boundless energy, even though she’s incontinent as a motherfucker. Whatever, it all comes out in the wash when you’re freakin’ out in a hospital bed with “Mommy,” as Ronald Reagan used to call her.
Oh, and here’s a cute button to the story:
We were snuggling afterwards, recuperating while my body was preparing its next batch of “liquid nitrogen,” if you know what I mean (it’s actually liquid nitrogen, don’t know why I used an entendre) and I asked my new lover: “Would you ‘just say no’ to me putting it in your butt?” I don’t want to get any more graphic because it’s a personal thing and no one’s business but mine and Nancy Reagan’s. I’m not one to kiss and tell. That being said, I had relentless anal sex with Former First Lady Nancy Reagan last night. Like I said, I’m not one to kiss and tell. I’ve still yet to kiss her (on the mouth).
(Reminder to self: Get some Hepatitis A medication before leaving hospital)
To think, I’ve now tread where only Ronald Reagan, Frank Sinatra, and Henry Kissinger have. How cool is that??? Oh, and apparently also former NBA star Dominique Wilkins. Still cool.
Next thing I know I wake up early in the morning and there’s Nancy, nude, at my bedside, and she’s knitting. She’s knitting me what I can only describe as a stem cell sweater vest. My lover is using this miracle of science to give me the skin that I lost in the “accident.” In a very real moment there at the bedside she talks about how much good stem cells can do for people throughout the world. She said to me, “I guarantee you that someone you know, and someone you love, will suffer the consequences of George W. Bush’s downright immoral refusal to allow new lines of stem cells to be created and researched. Someone you know will get a disease, or need a transplant of some kind, and they will be unable to get it because of these lost eight years. They will suffer more, they will have a compromised quality of life, and they may die. Someone you know . I guarantee it.”
I had such a boner that it was hard to focus on what she was saying. We went on to talk about President Reagan’s beliefs. Peace through strength, smaller government, faith in science, and so on, and we kept coming to the fact that our party has really let us down. How many deaths were on the hands of George W. Bush already just from the war, and how many more deaths will be on his tab over the next 10, 15, 25 years through his backwards policies. Quality of life is SO important – believe me, I know (my skin slid off my body quicker than a sensible red dress slid to the hospital floor last night). A real person who values “the culture of life” takes these things into account, and not just the single issue of abortion. I can think of few people who are less pro-life than George W. Bush, the war starting, retard-executing, gun loving, environment-poisoning, health care-denying ninny currently in office. Nancy and I cried over the thought of just how anti-life Bush has steered the Republican Party’s platform.
Then we fucked again. I get so turned on when chicks cry.
Jesus! Jack, have you been here the whole time! I’m sorry you had to see that, son. And I’m sorry that I have to leave you now. Nancy has invited me to live with her, at her home in a secret location somewhere in the Pacific Ocean: The Island of Reagan Republicans. It’s like the Island of Misfit Toys, only with more overt racism. Apparently during the day you can trade arms for hostages (hostages being the official currency on the island), while at night you drink stem cell coladas to stay strong, and never get older.
I’d say that this is kind of like Frodo riding off with Gandalf to the Grey Havens to finally sail off into the ocean, never to return to Middle Earth again, only with much more anal sex. What’s that? Who played Gandalf? Ian McKellen? Ok…with the same amount of anal sex.
I’ll miss you very much! Don’t forget to vote…and here’s my absentee ballot, son. I’m voting for…well, for someone who’s aligned with what I believe. Amazingly. Good bye.
(NOTE: I’m well aware of the fact that there’s a continuity error here. Chad Helmuth went into a coma in late March, 1981, while Raiders of the Lost Ark came out in May of 1981, making it impossible for him to have seen it and, therefore, reference a scene in it whilst exploring Nancy Reagan’s well-cared-for vagina. Please do not send me emails. It’s possible that Chad was selected to be a part of a test audience for it, or perhaps, being a bit of a big shot in the Republican Party, was invited to see an early cut in order to curry favor with President Reagan. So go F yourselves, you nitpicking fanboy nerds who are constantly bombarding me with emails and phone calls about this blog.
Seriously, thank you so much for reading this week – I hope you enjoyed reading these as much as I enjoyed writing them. Thank you to Adam for the opportunity, and to DLM and BMM for their constant support.
I dedicate this column to the real conservatives who have been left behind in this country. You do have a place you can go, even though it may feel weird at first: The Democratic Party. Also…hey, this is odd, the bobcat my dad wished for yesterday just entered the hospital room. Shoo! Shoo! Go away – OH HOLY FUCK! NOOO! NOT ME! I’M PERFECTLY HEALTHY! OH GOD MY NECK IS MISSING! YOU FUCKING DEVIL CAT! IT’S SO STRONG! IT’S TEETH SO SHARP! MY RIBCAGE SO SOFT! AHH….HELP…GETTING SLEEPY…VVooote dslfjalkjsdf oBAma/….)