President Obama has Sgt. Crowley and Prof. Gates Jr. Over for a Beer

Washington, D.C. --



As Sgt. James M. Crowley of the Cambridge Police Department and Harvard Professor Henry Louis Gates Jr. were let into the Rose Garden of the White House, they were taken aback at the image of their Commander in Chief and leader of the free world donning a white Chef’s hat, houndstooth apron which read: “Flip Me Over, I’m All Done on This Side” and pouring over a hot grill.

“Take a seat gentlemen,” said President Barack Obama, directing the men to a park like bench. “Your hamburgers and hot dogs will be ready shortly. You’ll find the beer in the cooler.”

As the men sat down to dine, no one mentioned the incident that brought them all together. In fact, they all just sat quietly eating among themselves in absolute silence with President Obama at the head of the table. Not even attempts at small talk had been made, not even much sound came from the men, except for chewing, dry coughs and occasional burp from the beer. Finally the vocal silence was broken.

“Hey, is there any A-1 steak sauce?” asked Sgt. Crowley.

“Isn’t there any on the table?” replied a surprised Obama. “I thought I put it out here. Wait a minute I’ll just run in and get some.”

With that the President excused himself and ran in the direction of the White House. After a few minutes, he returned empty handed.

“Say, guys,” said President Obama, breathing heavily with his arms on hips, shaking his head. “You’re never going to believe this. I just locked myself out of the White House. Could anyone of you help me get the door open?”

“Sure!” said Henry Louis Gates Jr. as he rose to his feet to help the President.

Sgt. Crowley remained seated. Then after a few moments, once President Obama and Henry Louis Gates Jr. were out of sight, he reached underneath the picnic table pulling out a walkie-talkie.

“Officer Crowley to dispatch,” said Sgt. Crowley as he crouched under the picnic table. “I got a possible burglary in progress at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Send backup… Oh, ah, you better send everything we got…I mean everything.”




Copyright © 2008-9 by Robert W. Armijo

Chris Brown Teaches Women’s Self-Defense Class as part of Community Service Plea Agreement

Hollywood, California --

“Thank you all for coming today, ladies,” said Chris Brown while wearing a white Karate kimono with a black belt standing before a group of women wearing layered protective martial arts suits from head to toe. “Welcome to the Chris Brown self-defense course for women. Now y'all maybe wondering why you’re dressed in those getups and not me.”

As Chris Brown continued to politely address the heavily padded group of women explaining to them the reason for their protective suits, some began to cower from him but the protective suits they wore limited their mobility.

“Look ladies,” said Chris Brown as he took a step back perhaps sensing their apprehension. “I know you’re used to seeing the attacker wearing the padded suit instead of the intended victim. However, since this my self-defense class we’re going to do things my way, or it’s the highway. After all, it’s my damn community service! Not yours! You dig?”

All of the women then attempted to waddle their way to the door but their suits encumbered them so that Chris Brown easily out maneuvered them, blocking their attempted escape.

“Where do you think you ladies are going?” said Chris Brown as he jumped in front of the group of padded women. “Now, shall we begin with our first lesson?”

With no choice but to stay and participate, the ladies whispered among themselves forming an alliance as Chris Brown had his back to them preparing himself with some Hatha Combat Yoga breathing exercises.

Chris Brown then turned facing the ladies, challenging them to attack him one-on-one.

As the first lady approached, Chris Brown quickly disabled her with a roundhouse kick to the face, making her fall to the ground. Though physically unharmed, all the ladies gasped with concern for the safety of one of their own.

“Okay, okay that was good,” said Chris Brown jumping up and down while cracking his neck and throwing punches in the air. “But, ah, let’s say one of you ladies snuck up on me from behind, while I wasn’t looking. Let’s try that.”

One of the ladies reluctantly stepped forward to attack Chris Brown as he had his back turned. Encouraged by the others that it was the only way out.

Slowly waddling her way up behind Chris Brown, she found the courage and strength inside her to carryout the attack. Cheered on by the others, she lunged forward only to be greeted with a Bruce Lee backhanded fist to the face, sending her crashing backwards in slow motion onto the matted floor.

“Okay, okay that was good, too,” said Chris Brown now breaking out into a sweat as he paced back-and-forth before the ladies like a tiger stalking its prey. “But, ah, let’s say that while we were walking down the red carpet, your cell phone started to ring. And I ask you who is it and you lie to me saying it was your Momma. When I know it’s some guy texting you somewhere amongst the hordes of your so-called fans. Then I suddenly popped you in the face like this.”

Without warning Chris Brown sucker punched one of the ladies dropping her to the floor. Then he began to pile drive her like a wrestler from the WWF, jumping up and down on her with his elbow.

Chris Brown then reached down giving the woman he had just pile drove into the ground a hand up.

“No hard feelings, right? It’s nothing personal. All par for the course,” said Chris Brown as he then disappeared out of sight for a moment before returning, wheeling out a cutout cross-section of a vehicle similar to the one he was driving that ill-fated night that resulted in his conviction and subsequent community service.

“Okay, now how about we test my self-defense skills in a confined space?” said Chris Brown as he sat behind the wheel and buckled his seatbelt. “Who’s next?”

Copyright © 2008-9 by Robert W. Armijo

Comic-Con: “New Moon’ cast shadow over true meaning of convention,” say Nerds and Geeks

San Diego, California --

"I heard that the Star Trekkers are mounting a counter offence out by the Macho Nacho and Taco Stand," said Buck Goldstein, an avid comic book collector and Comic-Con attendee talking into his walkie-talkie to his friend Juan Gomez. "But I don't think anything will come of it."

"Yeah, you're right," replied Gomez through his walkie-talkie. "Those Star Trekkers are real pussies. Always trying to negotiate their way out of a conflict situation. If anyone is going to throw that 'New Moon' freak show out of here, it's going to be the Stormtroopers."

"Yeah, those guys are real bad asses," said Goldstein. "Hey, it's time to switch channels again."

Only it was too late for switching channels on walkie-talkies for Goldstein and Gomez. as security at the Comic-Con were already monitoring their conversation throughout the convention hall.

"That's the way get most of our Intel [intelligence]" said Sgt. Doug Colby, Chief of Comic-Con Security. "These guys come to this things with their walkie-talkies. That way they can split up and cover the most ground. Staking out the most interesting stuff at the show and then rendezvous there."

As the nerds and geeks were busy hatching their plot against the "New Moon" cast members for invading their turf, Sgt. Colby discreetly and strategically deployed his forces throughout the convention floor, ready to spring into action on a moments notice.

"They might be nerds and geeks you picked on when you were in high school. I know I did," said Sgt. Colby. "But they're very territorial and revengeful. Ever seen the movie, "Revenge of the Nerds'? It's the 'Deliverance' movie of my chosen profession. And a true story, too. Only the actual events on which the movie was based involved the bloodshed of innocent lives. Well, that's not going to happen on my watch."

"It's not fair," said Gomez over his walkie-talkie. "Adam West's booth is practically empty, while the 'New Moon' people won't even have enough time to sign autographs for the people that have been standing in line for the past 3 hours."

As the "New Moon" cast members happily signed away their autographs, they might as well have been signing their death certificates as unbeknownst to them an emanate attack was about to take place by the terror of the known galaxy far, far away, Stormtroopers.

"Well, I wouldn't get all that worked up about it," said Sgt. Colby as he picked up his walkie-talkie, slipped his Taser stun gun into its holster and got into a golf cart with another security guard headed out to the convention floor.

"But aren't the Stormtrooper really just a Tour de Force," questioned Goldstein over his walkie-talkie to Gomez.

According to Goldstein, because the Stormtroopers have spent so much money on their Star Wars costumes, often paying for them by making special appearances at parades, birthday parties and bar mitzvahs, they easily back down if confronted.

Suddenly Stormtroopers surrounded the "New Moon" booth, retaking control of the Comic-Con away from the Hollywood elites. But to the Stormtroopers' surprise both cheers and jeers rose up from the crowd.

"Okay, you Stormtoopers. Hold it right there," said Sgt. Colby, pulling up in a security gulf cart covered with "New Moon" movie ads mounted on its sides, hood and roof. "Put down your Blasters, or we'll have to Taser you."

"Don't those things leave a black mark?" asked a Stormtrooper with an orange sash to Sgt. Colby, who had his Taser stun gun pointed right at him.

"More of a charcoal gray really," replied Sgt. Colby as his Taser stun gun now flickered with a blue spark.

"Okay, that's it," spoke the Stormtrooper with an orange sash to the other Stormtroopers through their interlink-coms embedded in their helmets. "We're out of here boys. I didn't spend five grand on this genuine replica Stormtrooper uniform just to get it ruined by a rent-a-cop with a Taser stun gun and the I.Q. of a ferret."

"John Anderson? From La Jolla High School?" said Sgt. Colby as he approached the Stormtrooper with the orange sash on his shoulder. "Is that you under there?"

"Doug Colby?" replied the Stormtrooper with the orange sash on his shoulder, and a tremor in his voice, flinching slightly "You used to beat me up in high school for being a nerd."

"Yeah, those were the days, but they're long gone now," said Sgt. Colby, as he guided the Stormtrooper into the golf cart, placing his Blaster in the back. "Say, John, could I have a private word with you in my office?"

copyright © 2008-9 by Robert W. Armijo