Monday, October 25, 2004
Get Me Cher
"Just who the fuck," Lincoln splutters, "does this Cher person think she is?"
"She's, uh," Kerry says, "she's a singer. And an actress. Beloved by millions."
"A blind singer, maybe? Another Homer, maybe?"
"Well," Kerry says, "there's actually no evidence that anyone named Homer ever even existed, let alone was blind ..."
"Don't give me your fucking intellectual quibbles!" Lincoln yells. "I want to know where this no-last-name Cher bimbo gets off saying I look like you on a crappy day!"
"Maybe," Kerry says, "she means on your crappy day ..."
"Huh?"
"Let's break it down," Kerry says. "If it's my crappy day, then I'm ugly and you're uglier. But if it's your crappy day, you're basically a good-looking guy who sometimes, on a crappy day, is as ugly as me. See? It all comes down to--"
"I don't give one goddamn fish poop what it comes down to!" Lincoln yells. "What I want to know is, has this Cher ever seen me in person? Up close?"
"Probably not," Kerry admits. "You want me to get the Navy Seals to--"
"How old is she?" Lincoln muses. "Would I be too old for her?"
"Oh, heavens, no," Kerry says. "I mean, she keeps herself up, but I think she's actually several hundred years old."
"Call her in," Lincoln says. "Tell her I've got a job for her. Tell her," he adds with a grim smile, pointing at his groin area, "that her country needs her."
"Will do, Abe," Kerry says.
