Read Online President Me by Adam Carolla - Free Book Online Page B

hate your kids? Alaska.” Forget the Jackass movies. I’d like to do a hidden-camera show where we get a guy with a salt-and-pepper mustache, put him in an ATF windbreaker, have him walk into any Alaska bar or honky-tonk after quitting time, and say, “I have a warrant for . . .” and just watch everyone jump out the window. It’s never “I was born and raised in Alaska, lived here my whole life.” It’s usually something like, “My business partner faked his own death and then tried to kill me, but that was before my wife had her gender reassignment . . .” Basically Alaska is the cold-weather Florida. It’s Florida without the Jews. The state capital should be spelled “Jew? NO!”
    I’m not in love with Sarah Palin but I was completely fine with her “Drill, baby, drill!” message. We can do that easily without screwing with the caribou. And fuck the caribou anyway. What did they ever do for us? Can you imagine the horror of living in a caribou-free world? I can and I’m fine with it.
    But now we have guys like Mark Ruffalo picking up the blowhard actor/environmentalist torch from Marty Sheen, except Mark is bitching about fracking. Well, here’s my message back to Mr. Ruffalo and all the other actors weighing in on this issue. How about some answers? If you’ve got some ideas, I’m wide fucking open. But until then how about you shut the fuck up. Ten years ago every celebrity was an expert on AIDS; now they’ve all become experts on “climate change.” We should put all these blowhards in front of windmills and power the country with their hot air.
    That’s why I’m naming as Secretary of Energy the Dyson vacuum guy. I feel like we need some new brains on this problem. Someone without opinions or the need to blog about them who is just going to crunch some numbers, invent some new technologies, and get us away from the people who burn us in effigy every day. Hell, maybe he can come up with a way to extract natural gas without hurting the environment or losing suction.
    I know what many of you are thinking. What about solar, wind, biodiesel, etc.? I’m fine with all that alternative energy stuff on paper, but it never adds up to shit on planet Earth. Solar might work if you’re in the Nevada desert, but what about everyone up in not-so-sunny Seattle? Biodiesel sounds good but I think it will be bad for childhood obesity because the VW microbus you’re driving behind is pouring the smell of fries from its exhaust, reminding all the kids it’s time to hit the drive-thru. And as with solar, wind power needs to be captured in batteries and we certainly don’t have our battery technology sorted out.
    ASSAULTED BY BATTERIES
    Shit, never mind the industrial batteries for wind and solar, we can’t even get our household battery shit sorted out. My house, like many of yours, has the battery drawer. The other day I needed some new batteries in the remote. So I went to the drawer and found that my wife had recently stocked up. Sounds good, right? Except that what I saw when I opened the drawer were literally nineteen nine-volts; forty-nine of the second least useful, the C battery; and forty brand-new, still-in-the-package size Ds. There aren’t enough flashlights in the world to need that many Ds. But no AAs. Zero . Then just for salt in the wound there was a bushel of assorted small, flat batteries that looked like pocket change. You know, the kind that if you go to Home Depot looking for them they tell you to head over to the hearing aid store.
    Not only do I have issues with the batteries, I’ve got issues with the battery hatch. There’s the simple design where you have to push your index finger in and the window just pops open. Then there’s the one that takes the micro Phillips-head screwdriver to open. If you took it to an optometrist, he’d say, “Sorry, I don’t