Showing posts with label end of the world. Show all posts
Showing posts with label end of the world. Show all posts

Dalai Lama Shares Donald Trump End of the World Dream He Had Last Night

"The good news is we’re all coming back.
The bad news is we’re all coming back as cockroaches."
By Robert W. Armijo

In the Dalai Lama’s end of the world dream, President Donald Trump is in the Situation Room with his chief of staff, various heads of all the branches of the military are present as is a White House kitchen staff member on hand to serve coffee, donuts and finger sandwiches.

President Trump is on the hotline speakerphone with a nuclear submarine missile commander located somewhere off the coast of North Korea.

“Ready your missiles commander,” President Trump orders.

“Yes, sir,” replies the submarine missile commander. “Readying missiles now, sir.”

“Mr. President,” says President Trump’s chief of staff. “If you do that the North Korean or Chinese satellites are sure to pick up the inferred signatures of the submarine’s missiles going hot.”

“Yeah, what’s your point,” says President Trump as he reaches for a cup of coffee.

“They’ll think were getting ready to launch,” says the president’s chief of staff.

“Yeah,” replies President Trump. “And that’s exactly what I want them to think. The game is called poker. Try playing it sometime. It teaches you a few things about human nature.”

President Trump then takes sip from his cup of coffee.

“You know what?” says President Trump. 

"Yes, Mr. President," says an anxious chief of staff.

“This coffee is cold," says President Trump. "Where’s the waiter that served me this cup of crap?”

“Right here, sir,” said a young waiter as he stepped forward. “It was me. I’m sorry your coffee is cold. I’ll go to the White House kitchen and boil you a fresh pot immediately, sir.”

“That won’t be necessary," says President Trump.  "Forget about it.”

“Forget about it, sir?” the waiter replies somewhat puzzled.

“Yeah,” Repeats President Trump. “Forget about it. You know why?”
"Roger. Alpha. Tango. It’s a go-go-go.
Fire! Fire! Fire!

“No, sir,” hesitantly asks the waiter.  “Why?”

“Because you’re fired!” replies President Trump. “That’s right.  I said it. You’re fired! Fired! Fired!”

Submarine Missile Commander: “Roger. Alpha. Tango. It’s a go-go-go. Fire! Fire! Fire!”

“Huh?” says President Trump as he looks down at the speaker box located in the center of the conference table. “What?”

Submarine Missile Commander: “All birds hot and away headed for a target rich environment, sir.”

“Stop them,” Orders President Trump. “Bring them back.”

Submarine Missile Commander: “Negative. They're locked and loaded. Ready to rock-n-roll, sir.”

“Shoot them down then,” Orders President Trump.

Submarine Missile Commander: “Negative. We have no airborne assets in theater, sir.”

“Better prepare the White House Presidential Bunker,” President Trump orders.

“We can’t, sir,” replies a Secret Service agent.

“Why the hell not?” asks President Trump. His feet barley touching the ground as his Secret Service security detail rushes him off to a safe location.

"Because, sir,” replies the same Secret Service agent. “Former Vice President Dick Cheney is currently occupying it and he won’t open the door for anyone. Not even you, sir.”

“Not even for me?” rhetorically asked the President in disbelief. “Did he really say that?”

“Well, sir,” replied the Secret Service agent also talking into his sleeve while talking to the president. “His exact words were and I quote, ‘Especially, not for The Donald’.”

“That son of a…” says President Trump. “You know, I can’t hold it against him. He saw the most valuable piece of real estate on the White House grounds and he seized it. As a businessman, I can only admire and respect that.”

"Looks like we’re in for a long winter.”
“Don’t you mean a long nuclear winter, sir?”
Moments later, in a White House hallway, President Trump and his Secret Service security detail run into the same young waiter from the Situation Room. He is carrying a fresh hot pot of coffee. He holds it up in the air for the president to grab.

“Thanks kid,” says President Trump holding the fresh hot pot of coffee. “I’ll need this. Looks like we’re in for a long winter.”

“Don’t you mean a long nuclear winter, sir?” the waiter replies.

“What the?” says President Trump as he looks down and recognizes the face of the young waiter from before.  “Hey, didn’t I fire you earlier?”

“No, sir,” Politely replies the White House kitchen staff member. “In fact, you can’t fire me, ever.”

“Oh. And why is that?” asks President Trump. His voice growing fainter and fainter, as his Secret Service security detail carries him farther and farther away down the hall.
"I can laugh about it now because tragedy plus time
equals comedy. What? Too soon?"

“Because, sir!” continues to explain the young man, having to yell out so the president can hear him. “I’M A CIVIL SERVANT!”

President Trump replies but he is too far away to be understood. 

However, all of his staff agreed among themselves that it was most likely an expletive.

Copyright © 2016 by Robert W. Armijo. All rights reserved.

Photo(s) Courtesy of:

Look! It’s a Bird...It’s a Plane...It’s an ELE!!! [Extinction Level Event Sep. 24, 2015?]

"Damn it! I just washed my car too."

Photo courtesy of
Copyright (c) 2015 by Robert W. Armijo. All rights reserved.

LHC Physicist at CERN Denies Responsibility for “Giant Swirly Thingy” Over Norwegian Sky

Geneva, Switzerland --

“What? We didn’t do it,” said a particle physicist from the European Organization for Nuclear Research (CERN) before he was even asked a question by a small conclave of approaching reporters that tracked him down as he was preparing to leave his home with his family and all of their belongings that could fit into their European style subcompact car. “You know, not all inexplicable astrological phenomena A.K.A. the ‘Giant Swirly Thingy’ can be blamed on the LHC experiment at CERN. Besides, according to ‘String’ theory this was eventually going to happen anyways. It was just a matter of time...Time!”

Then reaching into the back seat of the car, grabbing a book out of the hands of his young daughter, the CERN physicist said to her. “Give me that roadmap.”

“But daddy,” protested the physicist’s daughter. “That’s no roadmap. That’s my ‘Alice in Wonderland’ book.”

“Not where we’re headed honey,” said the CERN physicist as he drove off to an undisclosed location where top ranking government officials, members of the military and his colleagues have been secretly building a microcosmic fleet of trans-dimensional inner space craft, capable of escaping this timeline should the Universe implode into itself; reduced to the size no larger than a snow pea. “It’s a roadmap to the future!”

Copyright © 2008-9 by Robert W. Armijo