Are you there God? It’s me, Bobby…

Ah, the good 'ol, bad 'ol days...hand me my shades, Anderson!


Hello…it’s Bobby.

I know I’ve only been coming to you with problems lately, and I did do my best to clear the scheduling conflicts with Rick Perry’s Reliant Stadium deal, but you know how it is, the laundry needs doing, the house needs painting and the television needs watching and besides, word is you’re not going to Houston either, so live and let live, right right?


Jindal…right, Bobby Jindal…yes-sir, governor of the great state of Louisiana, God Bless America…yes.

So, I suppose I should get right to it.

Remember back during the oil spill? Yes, British Petroleum in the Gulf…right. So back during the oil…last April? No…it was last, last April in 2010, and that’s precisely my point, that was a long time ago and back during that time, not only were my political friends talking about me as a possible Republican Presidential Candidate, but a definite shoo-in for a sweet national gig should a Republican win, a cabinet post…no, I know I said the only job I wanted was the job I had, but you know how it is, I’m supposed to say that.

Oh, you didn’t?

Okay…well now you do…sure, you’re welcome.

Anyways, so we had all the press down here summer before last, and I mean all of them and they were talking to me everyday. I got to talk about how Obama wasn’t doing anything to stop the spill, how he was getting in my way, how the Feds were totally screwing this whole thing up. I got to take all these helicopter rides with all the big-time reporters, the bigs! And me too! I was big time, flying low and hard over the oil slicks, pointing out my citizens trying to clean it up. All that attention, all those speeches, the microphones hanging on my every word and I tell you, really, it was absolutely amaz…horrible. It was a horrible tragedy.

Yes-sir, a heartbreak.

Well, you see God, it’s been a long time since I got to ride the helicopter. It’s been too long, and presiding way down here, the rest of the country I think is forgetting all about poor Bobby Jindal. I need your help to wake ’em up. This governor thing, it’s been a rough year. The whole school unification plan fell apart. The big hospital plan fell apart. People keep calling me unethical and a hypocrite about transparency and the economy, well, it really kind of sucks and hey, I love me some Tea Party people, but the way those guys want to be with the money…yes-sir, I’m worried…right, coastal erosion.

Between you, me and too many holes in the levees, these Tea Party guys are stealing my thunder. Do you know that during the whole debt ceiling fight, the press, they were talking to every presidential candidate they could find. Every single one. They talk to that head-case Bachman, the pizza guy, Palin…they even tried to talk to Romney. All of  ’em, CNN, FOX, the networks and…no, hardly anybody talked to Bobby. That’s my point. I’m kinda feeling unwanted, and that’s not all, not by a long shot. These new governors they got now! That Walker guy in Wisconsin, trashing the unions and hell, he screwed the entire state’s educational system a hell of a lot more than I could have ever dreamed, lousy, filthy teachers. Chris Christie, Nikki Haley and that guy in Maine with the French sounding name. Press, press, press, but nobody’s talking about me anymore, nobody at all. What’s a governor gotta do, blow up an oil refinery? Oh, and don’t get me started on Paul Ryan. The Ryan budget! The Ryan Budget! Eric Cantor says nobody under 55 will have Medicare when the House is done this year…Stealing the thunder! If I had my way, I’d have killed Medicare ten years ago!

It’s almost like nobody cares about Bobby, not at all. But I think we can fix it…no, I don’t want another oil spill…no, of course not a hurricane…and no, I think an earthquake might be a bit too suspicious, but I do have an idea…


How’d you know? …Oh right, God.

No, I don’t want the prisoners from Guantanamo Bay. Maybe if I’d been able to get my privatized prisons, that’d been something but that didn’t work out either.

Got a different kind of idea on Cuba…okay, you ready?

Invade Cuba?…no, they invade us, Louisiana!

Lord, if you could do whatever it is you do and get Cuba to invade we’d really be onto something. Mainstream press will eat it up….oh, totally! Sincerely! It will be the biggest story since the oil spill and the biggest local story ever! Can you imagine the video they’ll get, the photos, the photos of me?

All me…full gear on with an M-16 racing down the beaches. I bet I could even get myself back into the helicopters. Tie a red bandanna round my head and maybe a jade necklace I take off the dead girls body, the only one who every really understood me, as I head out to avenge her death with arrows, armed with exploding tips, all sweaty and…yes! Rambo, part two…yeah, Sly’s a personal friend…Okay…right…no, you’re right, I never met him, but that movie’s pretty cool and you know what?

Everybody and their mother will be talking about Bobby Jindal again. They’ll practically throw the Presidency at me. They’ll give me every cabinet post, and an ambassadorship too! I won’t even have to campaign, I’ll just show up on inauguration day and say, “America, you’re welcome.”

Louisiana? Remember God, that’s just what we’re supposed to say…because that way, if nobody wants us to run or invites us to DC, we can pretend like we never cared at all. Yep, saving face and getting re-elected.

Not that it’ll matter.

Not when Cuba invades.

Not when me and Anderson Cooper are skimming the armada while I unload clip after clip, the camera flashes flashing and the bullets flying. CNN and Fox news will beat down the mansion’s front door during rest and relaxation.

No, no…screw MSNBC.

Limbaugh, Hannity, O’Reilly…I will be the permanent guest host between now and inauguration day and all the American citizens will be calling in, just to say thank you, to me, Bobby Jindal.

Awesome. It will be awesome.

How about on my birthday…right, I picture getting out of the car in full fatigues, or maybe a nice pair of khaki’s and then…I turn to the camera and glare, “Cuba? Not on my birthday, bitch.” Then I’ll grab a gun, a big one and charge the surf to stand on my sand berms and wait for the Cubans…cue the sunrise!

It’ll be perfect. Nobody will ever forget about me again. I’ll be 42 this year…politically, make or break…right, right…yes, of course in your name I pray, pray I make the national stage, or at least get one more ride in a helicopter before I leave the Louisiana stage…someday.

Thanks God.

I really, really appreciate it.

Me, you, Cuba…take that Chris Christie!

Have a nice day.

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