Listen folks, I know that I’ve been saying some crazy things lately. Over the weekend I was quoted as saying Trump was better for America “than a woman,” and I also recently said that “everybody” cheats on their spouse, and who could forget my shrieking RNC speech. And that’s just a drop in the bucket of the wacky things I’ve said in the last few months! So, I’d like to take a moment to explain myself.
First of all, those quotes are 100% accurate and 100% crazy. I admit this. HOWEVER, and this is my main point here: I say these crazy things because that’s the only way to get the filthy old crows that live in my body to fly out of my mouth. I don’t want to say them, I’m compelled to. By the pack of greased up crows living deep inside my stomach, lungs, and throat.
It’s true, my body is made up of 90% cursed black crows and they refuse to fly out of me unless I say bonkers things like that time I said “we didn’t have any successful radical Islamic terrorist attacks inside the United States” before Obama became president. That wasn’t me just choosing to ignore 9/11 to make a misguided political point, that was me opening the release chamber of up to two dozen old crows that flew out of my body leaving me with less old crows living inside me. So who’s the crazy one now?
You’re probably saying “But Rudy, there’s gotta be a better way to relieve your accursed Crow body where you don’t have to make offensive and obtuse political statements.” Believe me, I’ve tried other methods! They won’t fly out when I yawn real big. Or when I dangle a salty street pretzel inches from my mouth. Or even when I say “Thank you for stopping by” to tourists as I stand in the middle of Times Square passing out 8x10 glossy pictures of me and Lorne Michaels. Nothing works!
They seem to have really found a comfortable home in my body and the only thing that coaxes them out is statements that make both me and everyone associated with me seem mentally unhinged. It’s not an easy way to live, but I’m making due.
Now, I know what you’re asking: “Where did all the crows come from, Rudy, and how did they get into your body? And why do they seem so greased up and diseased? Missing feathers and coughing. I didn’t even know birds could cough?”
The short answer is simply, I don’t know, and I sure as hell won’t ask some silly scientist who’s been paid off by the Chinese government (Woo-hoo! There goes a few little crows now!) to check.
But I suspect the crows, so often used as symbols of death and foreboding, are attracted to the gaping soulless hole inside me that has opened up since I decided to fling myself into Donald Trump surrogate-ism and sell out any remaining good will I earned after being the NYC mayor who urged peace and understanding between Muslims and Americans in the wake of 9/11.
Yeah, probably sometime between 9/11 and this election is when a countless horde of damned crows flew into my body and refuse to leave until I spew vile political venom all over the American media airwaves.
Hopefully that explains why I am the way I am.