With all the talk about a “certain someone” overturning elections, I thought this column written last year would be relevant. It not only includes the 2020 election cover-up, but also reveals the truth about the 2016 election. I told Steven Johnson I would never speak of it, but I’m gonna anyways.
Also, this includes the time I saved Steven’s life from a towering inferno. But I never explained how I ended up in that burning building. This will be the subject of next weeks column!
Previously on Overturning Elections:
Tessa from Albuquerque writes: I read a few articles from the past. I seems you and that Stephen guy go back a long ways. How did you meet?
Good question. Actually, I forgot I even knew Stephen until January 6th this year. I’ll explain.
I was right at the front of the line when it was Capital stormin’ time.
So I was kinda ho-hum about the whole thing. In fact, I just showed up because I heard it was gonna be a windy day and I wanted to see Trumps wig fly-off. Then someone in the crowd said it was feedin’ time for Senators and they had this big all-you-can-eat buffet right there in the capital.
So I commenced to marchin’ and a-chantin’ all patriotically hoping to get a free lunch.
Then I saw all those guards lined up protectin’ the capitol and more importantly my free lunch! Some folks charged forward, runnin’ into guards, hittin’ and yellin’…it was too much. As hungry as I was, all this fuss wasn’t worth it.
I walked a good ways-away from the commotion, and just sat down with my back against a tree. I was starting to feel a little dizzy, with all the running and yelling on top of the hunger. I’m hypo-glycemic so I get the woosies when I don’t eat.
Then, with the speed of a Presidential tweet, something important popped in my head.
Stephen Johnson won the 2016 election as a write in candidate. Long story short, this and that happened, there was a meeting and yada-yada-yada, the electoral votes went to Donald.
But in my heart of hearts, I know Stephen won the popular vote.
So this means, Donald stole the presidency from Stephen back in ’16.
Then Biden stole the election from Trump in 2020.
But in reality, Biden stole, the stolen, election from Stephen.
So we have to stop chanting “stop the steal!”, and start chanting “stop the stolen steal!” Because Stephen Johnson, the write in candidate from 2016 is the real president.
I was all up in arms, sittin’ under that tree. I was ready to run back to the crowd and explain that we’ve been duped.
Then I realized that would be supporting Stephen. Many years ago I swore that I would never support Stephen in any shape or form. I saved his life once and that should be enough.
Besides, Stephen would have been a horrible President. He chain smokes a pack of cigarettes every hour, hasn’t been sober since 1982, and never passed the third grade. That makes him ever-so-slightly worse than Trump…as qualifications go.
Don’t get me wrong, I still support Trump. I mean, what’s not too like? He’s always entertaining us with crazy antics, he’s fat, has yellow hair, and wears more makeup than Ronald McDonald…I love this guy!
But this is about Stephen.
Which brings me to the time I first meet Stephen.
But first, a little background. You see, Stephen grew up fatherless.
After Stephen growd-up, his father contacted him with a job offer. This was his chance to meet his son. But he didn’t tell him who he was, he wanted to get to know him first. The interview went as well as an interview with Stephen could go. Of course, none of Stephens answers were related to the questions, and didn’t make any sense. But his dad offered him a job anyway.
“You’ll make a fine addition to our team!” His father said as he approached the door.
“Aaaaah, no thanks. I’m not too keen on this evil business empire you’ve created.” Stephen replied.
“Are you kidding? We were on the cover of the Rolling Stone last month!”
“No really, this company sucks monkey-ass.”
“Don’t judge us too harshly, the job is here if you want it.”
“Really, your a total ass-hole. I wouldn’t work for this company if my life depended on it…bye!”
His father just sighed and lead him to the door. But when he opened it, there was a rush of hot air as a backdraft of flames knocked them both off their feet.
They were on the 20th floor of a burning skyscraper.
Which was, as usual Stephen’s fault. On his way to his interview, he walked down the hall with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, when a burning ash fell off and landed on the carpet. It probably would have gone out and all would be fine, but as Stephen walked away he let loose a tremendous fart. When the methane hit the red ash a small flame started. Not paying attention, Stephen went on his merry way to his father’s office.
A half hour later that whole floor was a-blaze.
When Stephen saw the flames, he rose and in a cowardice frenzy, he pushed any one who stood in his way to get to the stairwell. When he finally reached the stairs, he tripped and flipped over the railing. Luckily, he managed to grab hold of the rail with one hand.
His father was not far behind, and when he saw his son dangling above 20 floors of winding stairs, he decided to reveal himself to Stephen as he held out his hand to save his life.
“Take my hand Stephen, I am your father. Together we will rule this city as father and son!”
Stephen screamed, “I’m not your son! I’ll never join your evil business empire!”
Then his dad chopped off Stephens arm and he proceeded to fall, yelling, “Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!”
I looked up to see a screaming long haired moron with one arm, flailing helplessly. Fortunate for him, he never hit the bottom. He was inches above the floor, when he stopped on a dime!
Unfortunately the dime was in my pocket.
He thanked me for breaking his fall, punched me in the stomach, stole my wallet, and ran off.
And that’s how I met Stephen.
And now you know.
Song in my head:
(courtesy of the YouTube.com)
Coming Next: The Towering Inferno!
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