Lamb Of God Singer Randy Blythe Announces Bid For President
Yes, you read the headline right. And we do mean of the United States of America. Lamb of God’s vocalist Randy Blythe has officially announced his psychotic yet sensible campaign to become our nation’s next Commander-in-Chief.
In a lengthy statement posted to his Randonesia Tumblr Blog titled ‘I Want to be The Big Cheese,’ the outspoken Lamb of God frontman simultaneously expressed his disgust for our current batch of Presidential hopefuls and the recently signed NDAA — a bill that allows indefinite detainment of terrorism suspects without cause — while announcing his own presidential campaign and laying out a gameplan so crazy it actually makes a lot of sense:
“It’s 2012 now, the year some are saying the Mayan calendar predicts a cataclysmic upheaval across the board for our planet, perhaps even the end of the world as we know it. I don’t know if these doomsday predictions have any validity, but I do know one thing: the potential candidates in the race to decide who will be elected President of the United States look like pure s—.
I’m not particularly stoked on any of the candidates. In a massive blow to our civil rights, Obama quietly signed the NDAA for the fiscal year 2012 into law while Americans drank in their party hats on New Year’s Eve. The GOP is parading around a bunch of ass-clowns in what has got to be the most embarrassing primary season in the history of their party. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse than Sarah Palin, they bust out that lunatic Michele Bachman. I have no clue what the Libertarians are up to now that Ron Paul is gunning for the Republican nomination. Probably loading their guns and preparing for the worst.
We need a man who is not afraid to stick his neck out and risk embarrassing himself while doing the right thing, a man, in fact, INCAPABLE of embarrassment anymore PERIOD because he’s ALREADY done almost every stupid WRONG thing you can think of at one time or the other. We need a hard-boiled, no-nonsense, mean son-of-a-bitch with a bad reputation who ain’t afraid to cock-whip the shit out of some randomly selected p—– a– billionaire on live tv during his annual State of the Union Address just to make a point and let the mega-rich know that NO ONE is above the law here in the land of the free and the home of the brave. In short, we need a man who just DOES NOT GIVE A F—.
America, that man is me…
My first act as President of the United States will to be shot. That’s right, SHOT. With a high-powered assault rifle. Immediately after taking the oath of office, I will be escorted about twenty yards away and be shot publicly in a non-lethal area of my body by a highly trained Navy SEAL sniper. It will hurt like f—. Why would I do this? Because I will now be commander-in-chief of the armed forces. This means that during my term I will probably have to make some tough decisions affecting the survival of other men. And as commander-in-chief, I shouldn’t expect anyone in our military to do anything I’m not willing to do myself. That includes getting shot. Me being shot will be broadcast live world-wide via satellite, with no bleeping out of the incredible string of curse words I will undoubtably let fly with. I will be required to walk/limp/crawl on my own power a minimum of 50 yards through the mud to an ambulance that will take me away to patch me up. If I can’t make it on my own, I’m not tough enough to be your President. After all the nations in the entire world witness America’s new President, an insane looking heavily tattooed freak, getting shot ON HIS OWN ORDER as soon as he takes office, then crawling all bloody to an ambulance, cussing the whole way and screaming pure hate in a monstrous voice tortured by years of touring and Marlboro Reds, they will think twice before f—ing with us. I can promise you that.
Speaking of military policy, there’s a few other things I will be required to do if I am going to be your commander-in-chief. The first thing I’ll do after recovering from being shot will be to go through the thirteen week Marine Corps basic training boot camp on luxurious Parris Island, South Carolina. I’ll be treated like any other recruit, in fact, probably worse due to my status as the new POTUS.
For the rest of Blythe’s blog entry, click here.