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High up in AT&T Stadium in Arlington, Texas, Dallas Cowboys owner Jerry Jones sits in his luxury box watching the team he owns battle the Detroit Lions in a Wild Card playoff game. Meanwhile, inexplicably in the luxury box as well, New Jersey governor Chris Christie stands near the back, staring at the buffet table.
Jerry: *celebrating* Woo! Woo woo woo woo! Wooooooo!
Jerry Jr.: Dad, what are you celebrating? It’s a TV timeout right now.
Jerry: I know! That’s why I’m celebratin’. This is when I make the money! TV ad revenue! Plus all these fat fucks waddlin’ outta their seats to go buy an $8 hot dog and wash it down with a $10 Miller Light. Sure, I’m excited about the game, but makin’ money is what I really love. For me it goes, in order of what I love most: Money, free pussy, pussy, and my boys.
Jerry Jr.: I’d get excited that you love Stephen and I fourth most out of anything in the world, which would by far be our highest ranking to date, but I know you mean the Cowboys.
Jerry: Yup, I do. I’m tired of talkin’ to you. Where’s my special guest?
Jerry Jr.: *sighs* Staring at the buffet.
Jerry: Chris! Chris! The hell are you doin’?
Chris Christie: Staring at all the food I CAN’T FUCKING EAT!
Jerry: Why the hell can’t ya eat it? You know one time T. Boone Pickens bet me I couldn’t eat the pussy of every Oklahoma State cheerleader on their 1983 squad? Twenty free tuitions later and that son of a bitch owed me $10.
Stephen Jones: *interrupting* Batshit decisions like that are why you constantly run this team into the fuckin’ ground, Dad!
Jerry: It’s called havin’ balls! I don’t wanna win with my head down I want to win with my cock out!
Stephen: What does that even mean!?!
Jerry: You wouldn’t understand. Shoulda never listened to you. Shoulda kept makin’ players do cocaine before the games. Shoulda drafted Johnny. I’ll never get the ’90s back. ANYWAY, Chris, my point was, before an ungrateful flappin’ vagina interrupted, is that you’re a powerful man, so eat what you want.
Chris Christie: I’m not as powerful as I want to be. Not yet. I want the presidency, Jerry. And research shows that America doesn’t want to vote for a fat guy EVEN THOUGH HALF THE FUCKING COUNTRY IS A BUNCH OF FAT FUCKS. They’ll vote for a guy who used to be fat, because it “inspires” them or some horseshit like that. Or they’ll vote for a fat guy who can sing good, which I can’t. I’m more of a SHOUTER. And tried singing “Fight For Your Right To Party” by the Beastie Boys since that song is JUST FUCKING SHOUTING ANYWAY but my staff told me I just sounded annoyed and angry, like a pissed off dad sarcastically repeating his kid’s argument about having a right to party back to the kid as he threw all the kid’s friends out for drinking all the Miller High Lifes he had in the garage fridge.
Jerry: So bein’ fat is what could cost you the White House?
Chris Christie: That, and polling has shown that my east coast, no nonsense, SUCK A DICK MORON, straight forward, SHUT THE FUCK UP AND QUIT YOUR BITCHIN’ OR I WILL SWALLOW YOU WHOLE, SHIT YOU INTO A PAPER BAG, PUT THAT BAG ON YOUR MOTHER’S PORCH, LIGHT IT ON FIRE, AND MAKE THE DUMB BITCH STOMP IT OUT HERSELF attitude might be off-putting to southern and heartland voters.
Jerry: *laughs and slaps his knee* Hell I love it! Fear is the best, and more importantly, most fun, motivator in the world. Once a week, I watch a highlight reel of the worst plays in Cowboys history, intercut with pornography that ends before the fella finishes, while I blackout on scotch. Then I wander into people’s offices. I don’t know what I say or do but it keeps everyone on their toes. I can’t believe that’s your biggest obstacle in the upcoming election.
Chris Christie: Actually, research has shown that the thing 100% most likely to prevent me from getting elected is if, during a debate, I accidentally say my name weird and get turned into a Hodor meme due to my size and resting oaf face. THIS COUNTRY IS FULL OF FUCKING MORONS, JERRY!
Jerry: And so you want my support in your bid for the presidency?
Chris Christie: You’re a FUCK YOU NO BULLSHIT guy like me, and you’re a billionaire. I’m the right guy for the job, I really am, but I don’t feel like skipping around the country JERKING OFF EVERY NEEDY PEASANT IN FRONT OF A CAMERA WHILE I SMILE AND TELL EVERYONE THEY’RE SPECIAL. I’d rather just throw money at this fucker until I have enough white votes and pick a Latino running mate to grab all the Mexican votes. BOOM. DONE. FUCK YOU I’M PRESIDENT.
Jerry: Well I got a few questions. I don’t like a bad investment.
Stephen: Yes you do.
Jerry: I’ve NEVER made a bad investment. Just good investments that had too big’uh balls. Balls so big they scared everybody else away. Like when ya whip out your grapefruits for the first time at a Japanese brothel and they’re literally the size of Yoshi the bartender’s head. So impossibly big that every schoolgirl and sailor moon runs in terror, straight through the paper walls, without even takin’ a moment to ask themselves, “Maybe I shouldn’t judge a thing by its balls alone. Or maybe big balls are a good thing and I just haven’t realized it?” Those are the kind of investments I make.
Stephen: Jesus fucking Christ. Tony Romo just led a comeback fourth quarter touchdown drive, by the way. But whatever, fuck me.
Jerry: Chris, are you gonna continue to be a straightforward guy?
Chris Christie: NUANCE IS FRENCH FOR BULLSHIT.
Jerry: Are you gonna look out for the people?
Chris Christie: I WILL PERSONALLY PILLAGE A WALMART TO MAKE SURE EVERYONE’S GOT THE HURRICANE RELIEF THEY NEED. DON’T TELL ME ‘WELCOME TO WALMART’ GRANDMA. GET YOUR WRINKLED ASS OFF THAT CHAIR AND HELP ME LOAD DRY FOODS.
Jerry: And you don’t got any weird religious hangups? I like Perry but, whew, that “queers are bad” Hail Mary he threw a couple years ago was a real stinker.
Chris Christie: I don’t give a shit who’s shovin’ what where. Shove somethin’ up your pal’s ass? FINE. Shove a ring on your semi-pro women’s softball teammate’s finger? WHATEVER. I GOT BETTER SHIT TO DEAL WITH THAN WHO’S GRABBIN’ YOUR JUNK AND WEARIN’ YOUR JEWELRY.
Jerry: That’s good. That’s good. Plus, I don’t want to be a hypocrite. I can’t say I’ve lived the “straightest” of lives, exactly. I’ve never been with a man, of course, but at the same time, I wouldn’t necessarily call a guy like me 100% hetero considerin’ I’ve been involved in over 200 of what the Japs call “bew-cakes” in my lifetime.
Chris Christie: God I want cake.
Jerry: ‘Course back at Arkansas we called ‘em “Woo Pig Gooeys.” Jimmy Johnson came up with that name. True story.
Stephen: FUMBLE! FUMBLE! WE’RE GONNA WIN! WE’RE GONNA WIN!
Jerry: HUG ME, CHRIS! HUG ME TO MAKE THIS DEAL OFFICIAL!
Chris Christie: I’M GONNA BE FUCKIN’ PRESIDENT JUST AS SOON AS I CALL MARCO FUCKIN’ RUBIO!.