Orange Hair Grants An Audience With His Minions

Orange Hair gathered bales of dollar bills from the treasury to drop from Air Force One as he flew over the swamps of Florida to help in gathering a crowd. Those that showed up had to buy an overpriced hat that said, I'm with Stupid. But the crowd didn't mind since the hats are red which is perfect for possum hunting and driving pick ups. The crowd was happy with their hats and Orange hair was happy with getting all their found money. And as the crowd looked for the free beer advertised on flyers they soon learned that the Dixie cup of warm suds came only after they entered the hangar and the doors were shut and locked. Still it was free although flat and on the warm side, but they had their beer and a bench to sit on. That's when Orange Hair brought in the entertainment to warm up the crowd.

It was a success with the beer bellied hillbillys in attendance for most of them never saw a naked thigh that wasn't two hundred pounds of wiggly fat, and though the dancers had tits that didn't hang to their belly, the overhaul crowd loved them still. One was overheard to say he never saw anything so exciting since they outlawed public lynchings.

Orange Hair, seated on his glorious porcelain throne, stood and raised his hand to hush the crowd, he was about to speak. But the crowd wanted more beer and maybe a bit of pickled pork belly but Orange Hair denied their request and blamed the media.

"I told you about the media didn't I?" He asked as he scanned the crowd. "The lying thieves ate all the pickled pork belly and they drank the rest of the beer too, but they'll deny it if you ask them. That's how low down they are. They would take  your granny's beer can while she rocked on the front porch if you didn't watch them."

A roar of boos erupted along with more than a few belches of gas which pleased Orange Hair and he knew that he was on the right track.

"I saw one of these Northern scoundrels pull a whiskey bottle right out of the mouth of a nursing mother before she could take a swig." More boos and cat calls came from the growing unruly crowd.

The press corps began to look for an exit but found every escape route batten downed.  They began to worry.

"You know you can't trust what they write. Not that you could read it but if you could, it is all lies so I'll tell you what they wrote." Orange Hair then looked out to the crowd and in a very long voice screamed, "LIES. That's what they write about me." The crowd erupted once more, belching and spitting, puffing and huffing.

Then Orange Hair swept back his coif, raised both hands to the ceiling and yelled, "They hate Jesus too. Can you imagine."

Well it was to much for the crowd. They tore off the boards they had sat on and marched toward the press stand where shivering journalists stood petrified.

We don't know how many survived to write about anything, some grabbed red hats and tried to blend with the crowd but most of them didn't survive. This much we know.