Does One Bring A Steel Chair To The Oval Office?

Washed Up Sports Entertainment Star Announces Candidacy, Does The World One Favour

Los Angeles (AP). It is already a crowded field in the Republican presidential nominee list, filled with nary a sign of rational thinkers and too many blowhards. It’s become a circus, with Donald Trump blustering around, feeding his ego and starting fights with literally everyone. The duo nominees of Sarah Palin and Michele Bachmann have been crisscrossing the country, making fools of themselves at every turn, preaching their vision of an America united in “God fearin’ gun totin’ apple pie lovin’ commie kickin’ ‘Mericans, you betcha!’, which is actually their campaign slogan, punctuation and all.

Now the field has been joined again by a new act to the circus, one who has had something of a rough ride as of late. Surprisingly, who it was hadn’t leaked out earlier to the press, as is often the case in political announcements. It was known that another candidate was, in fact, elsewhere in the location where this press conference was to be held, but that campaign confirmed they had no idea who was involved. And so it was that a multitude of reporters were gathered at the Los Angeles Convention Center for the announcement, but as to who would be making an announcement, that was still a mystery. Was Bob Dole making a comeback? Or Dan Quayle, with Candice Bergen as his running mate? That second one was considered a long shot indeed, and perhaps too vague a cultural reference for those who didn’t remember Murphy Brown.

A campaign spokesman came out on stage, the curtains behind him hiding any trace of a campaign sign, not giving any hint of who might actually be making the announcement this late in the game. Whoever he was, none of the reporters recognized him. He wasn’t even wearing a campaign button. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming, and I’ll get right to it,” he promised. “This candidate needs no long, drawn out introduction. His reputation speaks for himself. Running for the Republican nomination as President of the United States of America, I give you.... Hulk Hogan.”

The former (and not so former) wrestler stomped out on stage as the curtains were drawn, showing a massive Hulk Hogan 2016 banner. He was dressed not in the suit and tie one might expect, but a Hulkster T-shirt, shorts, boots, and bandanna, huffing and puffing and being something of a shadow of the physical specimen he was in his prime. It’s been a rough few months for Hogan- being declared persona non grata by the wrestling organization that made him famous after racist remarks on a sex tape came to light, among other such remarks. He’s lost whatever reputation he had left (this from a man who spent time in a reality show on his own dysfunctional family), and no wrestling organization wants anything to do with him. Aside from a gag announcement that he was running for office, the wrestler’s never expressed the slightest interest in politics before- so what on earth was this about?

Hogan was busy flexing his muscles and looking like he was five seconds away from a stroke- or perhaps chronic constipation. Finally he strode up to the podium and started talking. Or yelling- the man doesn’t seem to have a volume switch, let alone comprehension that people can hear what he’s saying. Perhaps he’s been hit in the head too many times by steel chairs. “The Hulkster’s in the house, brother, and I’m here to say that I’m runnin’ for President under the Republican party, brother!” He nodded. “Lots of Hulkamaniacs out there love the Hulkster and have grown up as fans, so now they’re voters and they’re sick and tired of the way things are and they want to say their prayers and eat their vitamins and take their steroids just like the Hulkster... wait... forget I said anything about steroids.”

He paused before going on. “You know what, brother, this country’s about redemption. Sure, I’ve made a few mistakes here and there, and I’m sorry, but hey, who hasn’t made mistakes, brother? My point is that we get second chances, and that’s why I’m here, brother, to get this country back on track, kick some serious butt, and wrestle our problems in that squared circle, brother, just like I did in the ring.”

A reporter spoke up. “You do realize wrestling is fake?”

Hogan looked annoyed, and told his spokesman, “Get that guy’s name, brother.”

The reporter carried on. “My point is you spent years in a scripted sports entertainment world where everything was fixed. Granted, you certainly must have done a whole lot of damage to your body over time, including, I suppose, to your brain...”

Hogan nodded as if to concede the point. “Okay, sure, that’s right, I mean, hell, my knees are shot to hell, brother, and as for my head... what were we talking about, brother? Oh, right. Anyway, let’s get back on track. Don’t go talking about wrestlin’ as fake, brother, because all those Hulkamaniacs out there believe in us and believe in me and want to see this country be champions again, and that’s why I’m here, brother. I’m here to put these pythons around the necks of those ISIS guys and start squeezin’, and when I’m done with them, I’ll be body slammin’ those Democrats in Congress. And when I’m done there, brother, you just know that I’m gonna pile drive Putin into the ground and do the big leg drop on him, brother...”

By this point, reporters were rolling their eyes and wondering just how dumb Hogan was- did it explain his repetitive use of the word brother? Of course, that was par for the course in this year’s GOP nominee list. Hogan paused, and looked at the crowd of reporters before carrying on. “I want to bring out the guy I’ve chosen to be my campaign manager and Secretary Of State once I get into the White House. I would have liked to have Roddy Piper do this job, but hey, he went off to that squared circle in the sky where the Big Man’s refereein’ all the wrestlin’ bouts until the end of time. Anyway, give it up for the one, the only... the Nature Boy, Ric Flair!”

Reporters shook their heads in dismay. Flair, whose time in the ring as a heel and a champion, has often paralleled Hogan’s run, came out on stage, strutting in a suit. Why anyone calls a man in his mid sixties by the term Nature Boy is another matter. He looked even more on the edge of a stroke than Hogan, his peroxide blond hair contrasting sharply with his red face. “Wooooooooooooooooooo!!!” he bellowed, walking up to Hogan and shaking his hand. “Can you believe it? The Hulkster running for President! And if that’s not enough, he’s got me as his right hand man, the limousine ridin’, jet flyin’, kiss stealin’, wheelin’ dealin’ son of a gun.”

Reporters were aghast. “You have got to be joking,” this reporter protested.

Hogan looked confused. “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about, brother.”

“Look,” Flair added. “It’s very simple. To be the man, you’ve gotta beat the man.”

“What it all comes down to, brother,” Hogan blurted out. “Is this: Hulkamania’s running wild...”

“Despite that whole controversy about your bigoted remarks?” another reporter pointed out.

Hogan rolled his eyes. “Are we still on that? Can’t you people leave what’s in the past, in the past? What’s important right now is that we get into the White House where we can knock some heads around and suplex Congress and say to the French, whatcha gonna do when President Hulk runs wild on you????”

One reporter broke the awkward silence. “You do realize we’re not in some kind of conflict with France, do you?”

Flair shrugged. “Not yet!”

There was a rustle of noise from the back of the room. A crowd of reporters came in, surrounding blowhard tycoon Donald Trump, who of course has been making an ass of himself on the campaign trail every time he opens his mouth. He stopped, looking up at the stage, and called out, “Hey! I’m the only one in this building who should be having a campaign event today. What the **** is this?” He stormed up onto the stage. “This is unacceptable! Totally ****ing unacceptable!”

Flair rolled his eyes. Hogan sighed. “You haven’t gotten bored yet, Donald?” Hogan asked.

Trump sneered in that way only a Trump can. “ Who gave you the right to rain on my parade? You two are losers! Losers! You’re as big a pair of losers as those losers who don’t want me to be president of the United States! And as big a pair of losers as those people dumb enough to vote for me as president of the United States!”

“Are you aware you said that out loud, Mr. Trump?” a reporter asked.

Trump glared into the crowd. “Who the **** gave you permission to talk to me? I say a lot of stuff out loud!”

Before he could continue, Hogan walked over, grabbed him by the throat, and hit him. Flair dashed backstage, and came out with a steel chair. “Hulk!” he called out.

Hogan picked up Trump by the collar, pinned his arms behind him, and held him in place. Flair strode forward, the chair at the ready, and smacked Trump square in the face with it. The two wrestlers then proceeded to inflict elbow drops, leg drops, body slams, figure fours, piledrivers, body splashes, backbreakers, and other wrestling moves on the tycoon. Strangely, no one bothered to intervene.

After they were done, the two left the stage, chanting, “we’re number one”, while Trump staffers came forward, ascertaining that it had not, in fact, been a stunt and that their boss was bloody and battered. Paramedics were called for, and the Donald was removed from the scene by ambulance, looking like he had been trampled by elephants.

Republicans in Congress seemed pleased. Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell seemed delighted as he spoke to reporters in that slow drawl. “Hogan and Flair took care of the Trump problem for us, so they’re welcome in the Republican fold.”

President Obama had to put out a minor diplomatic fire with the French, reassuring their President that Hogan and Flair are little more than halfwitted morons who will never actually get into the White House, even as visitors.

As for Trump himself, it appears the tycoon’s campaign may well be at an end. He’s currently laid up in a body cast, tended to by doctors and nurses, unable to communicate beyond tapping one unbroken pinkie finger on a computer screen. His daughter Ivanka had a brief written statement issued to the press: “My father has only been expressing one sentence, over and over, in his current state, and it is, I quote: someone kill Hulk Hogan and Ric Flair.”