I was waiting for my sister while she got her hair cut, and you know the way these hair cutty places have magazines... I started flicked through one out of sheer boredom. I paused when I saw this one article on Arnold Swanknerger... (sp)....
It was a short write up by this guy called Patrick who had known Arnie and sent him a congratulations email on becoming Governer. This was the reply he apparently got. It can't POSSIBLY be true, but it's still funny. And who knows, with people like Info Cow in the world...
Dear Patrick
Jeez, I thought you had forgotten all about me, but thanks for the e-mail. It really does my Austrian heart a power of good.
It's great to be the new Governor of Good Ol California, although it hasn't really sunk in yet. But when it does, I will be makin' mighty big changes around here.
All those 135 losers whom I bear in the election say I have no policies but I'm goin' to show 'em. You just wait and see. When those skunks discover that I have a policy on my military barracks in New York, and one on my villa in Austria, plus a fully comprehensive policy on my Hummer motor car they'll be red with rage. And speaking of reds, I'm planning on terminating those varmints and blowing them all the way back to Moscow.
I'm gonna clean up California too. I don't care if the state is broke, I'm goin' to do it anyway. From now on the great state of California is going to be finger lickin' good. Those puny accountants and those spineless politicians are gonna feel the red-hot wrath of Arnie. That's a promise. And I keep all my promises.
Those 135 crooks said some bad things about me before the election. They said I was a groper. That was tougher then a ten ton tank to swallow and I was real upset. Upset enough to telephone my momma and all my cousins in Austria and deny the filthy allegations.
You know my Patrick. You know that I wouldn't even harm a fly, let alone a gal with a cute little butt. Of course I throw the occasional eye over a good lookin' broad, but that's as far as it goes. But you know that I'm human too, despite all those bullets and bombs that I had to contend with in my movies. If a fal approaches me and gives the 'I like your butt' look, I just clutch my bible to my heart and say a quiet prayer to the Good Lord, and think about the offer. But seriously, Patrick, that's as far as it goes. And if it goes any further I always say "never again" when my minder picks me up at the motel the following morning.
But there's one real mean coyote out thereand he's doin' my clean-cut Calfironian reputation no good at all. He works for a newspaper and he's always miquoting me. Like the time when he wrote in his rag that I said: "I think that gay marriage should go between a man and a woman." That one hurt real bad. He might think that I'm only a kingergarten cop, but blelieve me I'm gonna get that guy. Yeah, that would be great. I'd lock him up in Alcatraz with Conan the Barbarian and leave him there till he rots. YEs siree, I'm gonna have ea ball ruling California and when I'm finished there I'll go for Bubba Bush's job in the White House. They say I haven't a prayer gettin' that one coz I'm not a naturalised American.
I don't believe this because my wife Maria says that I have all the right credentials. Seemingly her great great great grandpa came from the old sod in the Republic of Eire and one of his kids down the line got the big gig in washington.
So if I don't get the white house job I'll be on to you about the possiblitites of becoming Prez of YOUR country. I think I stand a good chance because my momma once told me that my great aunt was actually born in Inchicore, which, I believe, is a cute little part of Dublin. Anyway the aunt, whose name was Baroness Von Crapp, had a mouth as big as my Hummer and she constantly spoke of her huge gang of brats who made a few bucks by singin' some old song called EIDELWEISS.
Well if my Aunt was Irish, then so am I. At least as Irish as those guys who come from Jamaica and are allowed to play for Ireland at some ball park called Lansdowne Road. Then there was that guy who actually became prez of your country. His name was Deevalera and I'm told he was really born in spain, and only came to Ireland because the heat got too much for him. Seemingly he was a nice old guy in a funny sort of way. He just wanted to see the whole country to be a hootin' and a hollerin' at old Deevalera while he waved his Colt 45 at some other gang of dudes from up the road.
Anyway, enough of the old days, this is where you come into the picture, Patrick. I want you to drop a line to that cute little gal called Mary who rules your Emerald Isle up in her big ranch in the Fenix Park - Did I get that right? Tell her that Arnie will be available when she hangs up her spurs in a few years' time.
You can also tell her that I know a lot about her country and I'll be the man to sort out all the shit that's goin' down. Transport problems? Jeez man, that's no prob. I know all the guys goin' crazy every morning at the place they call the Mad Cow Roundabout.
Just tell them the Terminator is coming over the hill in his Hummer and then you'll see em scattering. I'm also told there are some seriously mean dudes running show in toughhouse called Dale Eyrin. Real nasty guys there, but I know how to deal with them. I'll put on my Conan the Barbarian gear, just to make them feel comfortable when I go into their hideout with my heavy duty guys. Then you'll see the angry Arnie. Tribunals? Boom boom, gotcha, ya bunch of skunks. Land deals? There won't be any crooked land dealers left when I pump up my Hummer and roll all over them.
No smokin'? Yeah. I agree with that. The only smoke blowin' when I arrive will be the stuff coming from my specially designed 28-barrel machine gun. If you don't believe me just ask the guys I blew away in Terminator Three.
Your ol' buddy,
ARNIE
Yes, funny and scary at the same time....
What if he really said all that shit? I mean, the magazine wasn't even a humour magazine and... and... and...
I think this is a good time for me to denounce being an ex-californian....It's pretty embarrassing that he's in charge over there...
Hey! If Arnie really did write that, you know, I love him now!
But he probably didn't.
Most magazines in beauty shops are completely false, like the Inquirerer (however you spell it) and stuff. They just print garbage like that to get people to buy the magazine.
Course he didn't write that!
But wouldn't it be awesome.
Not really, no.
Spoiler
This is my best post ever.