In the year 2016, mild-mannered James Comey is working in the FBI library when he is bitten by a radioactive history book. From that moment on, the 56 year-old boy has the power to change history—but it is a power he cannot control. All he gets is a feeling of mild nausea when it’s about to happen. Doomed to shape history but never on purpose, he is: James Comey, Historical Figure. Today is: Friday. Won’t you chronicle our hero’s exploits with me?
First, the good news: President Trump fired the director of the FBI over his extremely questionable decision to announce that his agency had reopened its investigation of Hillary Clinton right before the election. The bad news is that Trump actually fired him because he wouldn’t take a loyalty oath. Props to the Polish Hammer for the link. You know what I like to do when I have a new coworker? I like to give him a couple weeks to get comfortable and then invite him to dinner—just him and me. Then I do this:
As they ate, the president and Mr. Comey made small talk about the election and the crowd sizes at Mr. Trump’s rallies. The president then turned the conversation to whether Mr. Comey would pledge his loyalty to him.
That’s what I do. I am a terrifying sociopath, and I have somehow become president of the United States. Hey, this ice cream is good, huh? There’s a chef here who will make anything, even ice cream, 24 hours a day. Say, will you swear loyalty to me personally?
As a feeling of nausea washes over him, James Comey rushes from the Oval Office to a nearby men’s room. There, he accidentally splashes water on the crotch of his pants. “Aw jeez,” the flustered quinteenager says. “I can’t go back in the Oval Office looking like this. He climbs out a window and flees to Dubuque, Iowa, where he feels another wave of nausea. Spying an elementary school, he runs inside and locks himself in the bathroom. “No way to alter history from in here,” he thinks. In the hall, an impatient Rep. Rod Blum is unable to relieve himself before his important TV interview.
“I’ve done it again!” laments young Comey. “But this one interview can’t have too much of an impact on history.” That night, Blum gets booed at his own townhall meeting, even though he pre-screened the participants. When an irate constituent asks if he has read the House GOP’s health care bill, he responds:
Oh, I’ve read it. This bill, TrumpCare — whatever you want to call it — is about the individual market only. The individual market only. That’s 12,000 people in my district.
More booing. Meanwhile, in China, James Comey lives a life of seclusion, determined to alter history no more. He devotes his days to contemplation, studying the ancient arts of wushu under tai chi master Wei Lei. “Disciple,” Wei Lei says, “fetch me water.” Disciple Comey fetches water. “Disciple,” Wei Lei says, “draw on your decades of legal and administrative experience to tell me whether I should publicly fight a mixed martial arts competitor.” Disciple Comey replies that he should not. Master Wei Lei flies into a rage at his disciple’s impudence. He says he will fight the mixed martial artist immediately and prove that his style is the best! So then this happens:
This footage sparks massive controversy across China, and the mixed martial artist must go into hiding—seriously. I agree with the Chinese Boxing Association that this incident “violates the morals of martial arts,” insofar as it is immoral to tell the kung fu guys that their thing is bullshit. Just let them keep kicking near each other, for goodness sake. Meanwhile, in Atlanta, James Comey stays away from everybody, giving Killer Mike plenty of time to write his verse for this song.
