Mr. Al Plays Ken To ICE Barbie

Oh Kristi, I’d like to be Ken to your ICE Barbie.

My lust for you is as big as an endless blue sky. From the moment I saw you in that TV commercial for Department of Homeland Security, I lost all control. You know the commercial Kristi. The one where you ride a horse with Mount Rushmore in the background. Your long brown hair flowing under your cowboy hat. The ultimate American fantasy.

“You cross the border illegally, we’ll find you. Break our laws we’ll punish you.”

Sexier words have never been spoken.

Oh, punish me baby. Spank me all night long. I’d much rather you strip-search me than TSA.

Oh Kristi, any time you want to teach me how to ride all you have to do is ask and slide me down the middle and rock side to side. And then do it again and again. Not that I'm fixated on you or anything.

After firing you Kristi, the president announced he’s appointing you special envoy for The Shield of the Americas. That means you’re going to be the tampon of Western Hemisphere. What an honor. The shield is a coalition of Latin American countries.

Your job will be to cultivate and strengthen new policies among these countries. While you’re at it you can cultivate me along with a half dozen right-wing Latin dictators. I mean presidents.

It’s all part of the Donroe Doctrine which borrows it’s name from the Monroe Doctrine. The aim of the Donroe Doctrine is to spread American influence in the Western Hemisphere. Now President Trump got mad and renamed the Gulf of Mexico, the Gulf of America. But if I had my druthers, I’d call it the Gulf of Kristi baby.

I hope the president lets you keep the Gulfstream jet with the luxe bedroom. I encourage him to do so. That way you and I can join the mile-high club. Not that I’m obsessed with you or anything. God I’m such a loser. I’m a 70-year-old virgin and you’re driving me crazy. I can hardly control myself when I see you on the nightly news.

It’s just that you are the hottest-dog-shooting-Botox-using-MAGA-makeup-wearing-horse-riding-right-wing-nutjob I’ve ever seen.

And your veneers, my God they're perfect. Where did you get them? Oh, you got them done at a place called Texas Smile. Between the lipstick and the Texas teeth, I could tickle your tonsils all night long. That is if you still have your tonsils.

But if we do, do it on the Gulfstream, can I bring an air sickness bag in case we end up talking politics.

Kristi, I haven’t been this obsessed with a public figure since Ursula Andress walked out of the ocean and onto the beach in Jamaica and into the arms of Secret Agent 007 James Bond. Maybe someday we could take the government jet there. It’s called Laughing Waters Beach, which I think somehow suits us. And I don’t mind having taxpayers foot the bill for the plane ride, if you don’t.

Now Kristi if you’re listening, I do have a few makeup tips for you. I’d lighten up on the heavy MAGA frosting. That way, the next time they spoof you on that sarcastic as shit cartoon show South Park, your face won’t melt. Though the Botox fixed you right back up. Hey, Kristi would you share your Botox with me?

And maybe when you do your next $220 million totally self-indulgent ad campaign funded by U.S. taxpayers, you can funnel some of the money to me as your personal consultant. I can’t believe the president fired you Kristi. How rude. And he says he’s making America great again.

And while we’re on the subject of the Department of Homeland Security and my sex life, why did the president appoint Markwayne Mullin as Secretary of Homeland Security. I’ve got the legs for the job. You should see me in a mini-skirt and heels.

It’s my manifest destiny Kristi to be with you even if I’m an immoral-cross-dressing-senior-citizen-with-a-turkey-neck-who-forgets-to-change-his-underwear. Oh, Kristi let me secure your borders. I’ll build a wall around us. The president says he likes walls. That’ll help get you back in his good graces.

Like I say, I’d be Ken-to-your-ICE-Barbie.