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.

Paul Ryan; Learning to be HUMBLE. (2)

Author’s note: some of what follows could be called “offensive.” Remember, this is fiction. Don’t be a little bitch about it. These are not the views of Paul Ryan (I hope anyway) and I am merely writing this for entertainment purposes. Please don’t sue me, Speaker Ryan. I’m already poor.


Ryan was sitting in a meeting. Yet another meeting. Trump and Pence had their respective turns to speak, yet Ryan’s never seemed to arrive. So he decided to take this opportunity to rap quietly to himself once again. He loved rap.

Since his excursion into the world of Hip-Hop, Ryan had taken to calling Trump and Pence “DeeTee” and “Mikey P.” He had recently discovered that Black people made rap as well as White people. He was shocked at this revelation and had endeavoured to devour as much as he could. He thought it was great, the rappers would become rich. Maybe they would donate to him. But then he remembered, they were Black. Ryan didn’t like Black people, they were as bad as poor people. He quickly put that to the back of his mind.

But the urge to listen to it was still there. He once again began rapping quietly to himself. Unbeknownst to him, DeeTee and Mikey P had noticed, and DeeTee spoke up, “what are you doing Paul? Talking to yourself?” He promptly apologised but gave no explanation. They mustn’t know he listened to rap.

After the meeting had ended, Ryan proceeded towards his Office. He is cut off in one of the halls by a female reporter, who wished to ask him what the previous meeting had been about. However, Ryan was caught up in his rap, and without thinking repeated the lyrics to the last song that he had listened to, “move bitch, get out the way, get out the way bitch, get out the way.” Realising quickly what he had done, he scampered to his office, closing the door behind him. He puts his headphones on, opens Spotify and hits “Play.” He could relax now.

move bitch...

Ryan had an inquisitive mind and had an unanswered question. He quickly brought up Google and proceeded to search “Can White people like Black rappers?” He happily discovered that they could. He also discovered that there were certain words that he couldn’t say. Even though he had heard multiple Republicans utter those words previously, he took note anyway. He made a list that included “n***a” and the frowned upon but acceptable “fo shizzle.” Satisfied that he now knew the etiquette of rap, he sat back to relax. After a couple of songs had played, he decided it was time to move on with his day and so opened his door, asking his assistant what his next appointment was.

Paul Ryan; Learning to be HUMBLE.

January 20th, 2017.

Paul Ryan sits at the inauguration of Donald Trump. He feels happy, excited, that his Party has regained control of the White House, even if it is in the hands of Trump. But he knew that he was the future of the Party. He knew that one day he would be the one delivering the speech from that famous podium. He could certainly dream, and was already doing so.

A little into the inauguration, Ryan was beginning to get bored, a bit distracted. He began quietly rapping to himself. Eminem, Mac Miller, Action Bronson, Yelawolf etc. He knew in that moment that he was the coolest Politician in the entire country. He allowed himself to crack a little smile, before resuming quietly rapping to himself. Today was a good day.

Suddenly, he realised that the cameras might be on him. He was the Speaker of the House after all. He was important. He IS somebody. He matters. “My life matters” he whispered to himself. More importantly, if he is planning to run for the nomination down the line, he has to be “down with the kids.” He wondered if anyone still said that before reassuring himself that they did. He was cool. He knew it. But just to validate his coolness, he decided to make an ambitious move, a calculated risk. He had heard of this trend and knew what it was. He had seen Cam Newton do it, so it must be cool, right?

Ryan decided to go for it. Preparing himself, he sat more upright than he was before. He cleared his throat and made his move. 


He dabbed on everyone. He was so cool. He knew it, and now everyone else did.

This had not gone unnoticed. The crowd begin to murmur, “did Paul Ryan just dab on us?”

Feeling happier than at any point in his life, he went back to quietly rapping to himself, content that he was now the most popular Politician in the entire U.S. He smiled to himself once more. “My work here is done.”

He couldn’t wait for this administration to truly start.