Paul Ryan; Learning to be HUMBLE. (4)

Paul Ryan; Learning to be HUMBLE. (4)

Ryan was discussing the details of the latest Republican health care bill that would take healthcare away from 23,000,000 Americans. This excited him, there was nothing he liked more than the prospect of hurting, killing and decreasing the quality of life of poor people. After the meeting had ended, he made the decision to run back to his office and go and hit the gym. He wanted to get swole. “Hella swole” as he put it. Ryan wanted to listen to music. He had recently discovered an artist known as “Playboy Carti.” His favourite song so far had to be ‘Broke Boi.’ While not a fan of the incorrect grammar, he did thoroughly enjoy the music itself.

Ryan was in the gym, “clanging and banging” as the Rock says, and listening to some Carti, when across the room he sees Mikey P. He goes on with his workout until P walks over to him and makes conversation. “You know, I really, really want to take everything away from the poor people, especially those that voted for us, but I think we might have to keep something in there for them so we can get some support from the moderates. God, I hate them.” Ryan agreed, made a disparaging comment about the poor and Black people just to satisfy P, and proceeded to carry on with his workout. In particular, he was listening to the entirety of his album ‘In Abundance.’ His donors had money in abundance and they gave some to him, all he had to do was pass laws that benefitted them and not poor people. He hated poor people, so he had no problem doing this. He liked money.

playboy carti

One line of ‘Broke Boi’ in particular he enjoyed, “Keep a small circle, I can’t f*** with squares, Aye I had to get it how I got it, n***a life ain’t fair, Spilt that lean all on my kicks and got another pair, I say f*** them two hoes man, I got another pair.” This part implied the guy had money. Ryan liked money. He also liked hoes. Or at least the idea of hoes. He did represent the “moral Christian Right” after all. And being Catholic, the only people other than his wife he could consider f***ing was young boys, not girls of legal age. He wondered then if young boys could be considered “hoes.” A quick Google search led him to believe they couldn’t. While sad at first, he was determined to not let this get him down. The thought of 23,000,000 losing health insurance made him smile again.

Unfortunately, the public did not offer much in the way of support of his health care plan. He hated them so much he wished they would just go away. With any luck he thought, a lot of them will die under the AHCA. That would help quiet the noise that was surrounding him. More than anything, he wanted to go out there and say to them, “if you’re poor, then kill yourself.” But he felt that that would be inappropriate for a man of his standing. People might judge him. As much as he hated them, he needed to appease them to they would continue to vote for him so he could make his rich friends richer and himself in the process wealthy too. The thought of exploiting the working class and screwing them over was a pleasant thought, one that would make him happy for the rest of the day. Maybe one day he could do it from the White House. He liked White, it was his favourite colour. His sheets had to be pristine white, or people would notice.

He briefly wrangled with the idea of making a Rap song himself. But he decided that he was too busy. “That will have to wait,” he said to himself, as he walked back to his office to further plan the demise of the working class.


Paul Ryan; Learning to be HUMBLE. (3)

Paul Ryan; Learning to be HUMBLE. (3)




It was time for the State of the Union address. Paul Ryan was sitting there, minding his own business, listening intently to DeeTee speak. He’s enjoying his seat behind the Pres, and begins to allow himself the thought of himself being the Pres one day, delivering the speech himself. This thought makes him smile, “just remember to make it look natural,” he reminded himself.

Recently, Ryan had discovered a group called ‘Dead Prez.’ He didn’t much like the name of the group. But he did know that a dead Prez would probably get him closer to the Presidency.

He thoroughly enjoyed their music, but not so much the lyrical contents, which had heavily promoted Socialism, dirty, dirty Socialism. He liked Capitalism. He wondered why they couldn’t make songs about Capitalism. He enjoyed it when he saw the exploitative nature of Capitalism show and take away the homes and health care of poor people. He still disliked poor people. But this would change if his donors told him to change his opinion. He loved his donors. They gave him money to make themselves money. He liked money.

20 minutes had gone by. Once again, he had allowed himself to be distracted. “It’s bigger than hip hop, hip hop, hip hop, hip” he rapped in his head. He looked around the room, allowing himself to experience the wonderment the situation. “I AM SOMEBODY,” he said to himself in his head. “I MATTER. I AM IMPORTANT.”

He leant across towards Mikey P, and simply uttered “Who shot Biggie Smalls, if we don’t get them, they gon’ get us all, I’m down for running up on them crackers in their city hall.” P looked back at him and said “excuse Paul? What did you just say? I didn’t quite catch that. By the way, I hate Gay people because I have a fear that I might be Gay myself.” Paul didn’t want to repeat himself. He replied, “it doesn’t matter, I’ll catch up with you later…” He thought for a second. He was tempted to say something else, but should he? He should. “…Homie” he said. Yeah. He was cool. He was so cool.

Image result for dead prez hip hop

Towards the end of the speech, he remembered fondly the inauguration. He had dabbed on everyone. “That was a great day,” he thought to himself. But he then began to think, should I do it again now? What better time right? Ryan hesitated. He contemplated the pros and cons, but try as he might, he couldn’t think of one other than it might divert attention away from DeeTee. This would make DeeTee mad, and Ryan didn’t want to be¬†screamed at again. That began to worry him less and less. “Alright, I have to go for this.” He began to count it down in his head, 3… 2… 1…


He dabbed. Just a small dab, however. This wasn’t the correct time to commit fully to the dab. He gathered himself, sat up in his seat, and waited patiently for the speech to end.

Today was a good day.