One of the Creamsicle’s sons has claimed that his father’s life is exponentially worse since he entered public life. Well, let me make a suggestion as to how we can end his suffering, especially since Creamsicle’s misery is nothing compared to the misery he has inflicted on a nation.
Get the hell out of our lives!
OK, was that too harsh? Let me try again. Dear melting pile of orange creamsicle goo, perhaps your best choice to eliminate the misery from your life and ours is for you to resign and go into seclusion. Honest, you will still exist even if the cameras aren’t on you and you have no TV ratings to check. Give us your phone so that those twitter people can’t be mean to you anymore. We’ll give you a nice land line in exchange. It has a rotary dial and all. You will be amused for hours and hours trying to figure out how it works. How much fun will that be for you?
So do yourself and the nation a favor. Fade from public view and take those spawn of the devil that you call your children with you – Baron, of course, excepted because he’s too young to be a full blown turd yet. Maybe he’ll escape the curse.
See, problem solved. And the world breathes a heavy sigh of relief.