Tag Archives: africa

CNN News Headline of the Day: Obama’s Trip to Africa

S1225Frightened Horse, by Eugene Delacroix

Obama arrived in the Sahara fresh and exuberant. A shaman talking in a manner of clicks and whistles approached him and shook his hand. Obama didn’t hesitate to squeeze his hand. He could see women with baskets on their heads and bare breasts. This pleased him.

“Where’s my white horse, 18 hands tall just like I asked” he inquired after taking in the scenery.

“The stable boy shall bring it shortly, sir” a young Libyan said.

“What! Why isn’t Hilary bringing it? How am I supposed to ride it to the King’s palace like Julius Caesar now? It’s symbolic. Fix this.”

“But sir, she is in Arkansas right now. It’s a 24 hour flight.”

“Oh, right, she is Secretary of State.”

“I must admit that I was wrong. I must be the greater man here.” he thought.

“I was wrong,” he said aloud. “But I still want my horse.”

He felt like he was going to die in the hot sun, but knew that he could survive any amount of dehydration because he was the President now. Finally the great white beast galloped up to them and once again he could feel endorphins in his brain.

Obama reached out to stroke its long nose, admiring the albino-like, mystical quality of its fur and the dark wells. Suddenly it recoiled in fear and shock.

“Control him!” Obama shouted gutturally, putting his hand on his sword.

But the Libyan, try as he might, could not stop the horse from running in circles. It was beginning to attract the attention of lions and this filled him with fear.

The horse sensed this and made an effort to calm down and headed toward Obama as if to apologize. When he was about five paces away, he looked over his left shoulder as if his dead mother had called his name and then fell over.

“I’m sorry sir. It’s neck is broken” the Libyan said in a soft voice.

Obama bent down a picked up a handful of sand, holding it close to his nose, trying to rememebr the smell of the earth to bless the horse he had known for so little time.

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CNN Headline of the Day: “Poetry for the Eyes”

trioSt. John the Baptist, by Da Vinci; Amour Victorious by Caravaggio; David with the Head of Goliath, by Caravaggio

Auntie Kitty, now little old lady, straightened her lacy coaster under her warm Pepsi and told her granddaughter:

“There’s a dangerous trio on the loose: the leader of the Trinidad Cartel, an adulterer/aspiring stage actor, and a murderer,  involved in strapping backpacks to himself and crossing borders. They are being called the Red-Hooded Tobago Boy and His Two Little Wolves. You be careful to stay away from such boys! The first one, I’ll tell you, Salome, he is an over-sexed monster. He’s also known to be the largest distributor of LSD this side of the Atlantic Ocean. One day, he gave a hit to the youngest one of the bunch, the second one. He was seen standing naked outside of FAO Schwarz screaming “Ain’t nobody home! What shampoo am I supposed to use? Why are you sweating so much?” Then he looked at Virgin Records and began to laugh hysterically as the neon lights began pumping their fists to the music.  The 3rd one accidentally murdered his accountant in an attempt at friendship. He placed him in the bathtub and began combing his body for lice. Unfortunately, this was done with an electric shaver. Oh the horror of that fateful night! I cannot finish the story!”

“Oh, please do, grandmaman!”

“Well, then they began to accuse each other and poke each other in the chest. Somewhere along the line, one of them came up with the idea of cutting his head off, probably to shrink it and sell it as contraband, perhaps a scam for tourists. They did, but then they noticed…” She hesitated.

“Do you know what a boner is? Have you had sexual relations yet?”

“Only on the very small, almost quantum, scale.”

“Hmm, right, you sly little rodent. Anywho, it later that somebody had bought it and it’s now located in Sierra Leone. It is kept in a sacred vessel made of tiger teeth and giraffe fur to ward off the majestic evil that surrounds it. The locals believe that one day the Man from Trinidad shall return to claim his son (the rumor is that he’s his son). They have made an altar to him, and even make pilgrimages to the Cape Verde islands, where is body is believed to be. If only they knew he was really a scoundrel and a thief!”

“Ok. I shall not have any relations with them, Grandmaman.”