Ronald Rexona

Yesterday, in a fit of brainfart, I promised to post anecdotes received from my unemployed angel from the Third Galaxy, a few episodes showing something of Ronald Rexona’s charming character. I realize my folly now, because people want to hear things that have pertinence to the realities of our world, such as they are.

On the other hand, since such a fine fellow as Ronald Rexona could develop into a terrible tyrant, it may help the reader understand that even Supreme Leaders and Deciders must be held accountable. So, straight from the horse’s mouth or should I say the wings of Man-u-El-Ishman, I give you:

Ronald Rexona, a Loving Portrait

Despite what some rather nasty people might try to get you to think, Ronald Rexona is a rather likeable fellow.

Despite the handicap of being born into the wealthy and well-connected upper crust of Arrogant society with a silver spoon stuck up his nose, he’s not above associating with ordinary people, as long as they don’t get too close and personal.

Sometimes, when he wants to wind down after a month’s vacation, he grabs a hamburger at a local place near his ranch and maybe even chats small talk with the hamburger flipper there as if he had a Security Clearance – which he does, actually.

On the campaign trail, he knows how to shake hands and exchange noncommittal small talk with the consummate ease of the best politician you ever saw.

Of course, now, with Arrogance in a Declared State of Clear and Present Danger in the War Against Terraism, there won’t be any campaigns for the time being – or elections, for that matter!

But still, when he makes the occasional appearance on television to Speak to the Nation or answers Prepared Questions at a Nationally Televised Press Conference, every one hangs upon each syllable as it sneers from his mouth. Everyone is hoping, of course, that this time he’ll be able to pronounce all the difficult words, even the ones with three or four syllables.

And then there’s the famous smirking grin which disarms most people and leaves them thinking, “Wow! And this is the fellow who is going to lead us to Victory in the War on Terraism!

The reality is that Mr. Rexona is a simple, plain-folks kind of guy, completely void of inflated views of himself.

For example, have a chuckle with me over the funny things he sometimes says:

“I used to party a lot and sort of coasted through life, but since I gave my life to the Great Potato – all that has changed, I realize now, that, in the greater scheme of things, I’m just a little french fry like everybody else. I’m just trying to do what the Great Potato wants me to do and try to help make the world safe for Democracy and Freedom – you know good stuff like that – and safe from Terraism and bad stuff like that.”

“Frankly, sometimes I feel like I’m really nothing at all and that’s maybe why some smart-ass reporters used to call me a hole. Well, they aren’t doing that any more, and I’m sure you can understand why! Even if I am a hole, I’ve got to be the biggest hole around, maybe that’s why they’ve started calling me the Supreme Hole!”

No portrait of Ronald Rexona would be complete without one of the many humorous anecdotes he seems to be a bottomless source of. For example, let us hear how he, in his own charming way, brought new meaning to the concept of meeting etiquette:

At a meeting of the Security Committee on Foreign matters, Hown Daugh, when he was still Deputy Secretary of Defense, was drawing to the end of a presentation regarding plans for a yet-to-be-announced Liberation Invasion of yet another Resource Rich Dictatorship on the Barbarian Peninsula.

He flicked on his laser pointer and made the red dot circle around the text which summed up the conclusion of his presentation: “As you can see, it will be a simple matter to accomplish our mission with a small fraction of the troop strength those scaredy-cat generals have been telling us...”

Ronald Rexona, stopping in the middle of an apnal snore, suddenly opened his eyes and blinked disoriented for a moment – “Huh? Didn’t I order a cheese burger? Where in the hell is my fuggin cheeseburger! You, Hown, you’re the depity sekretary of something ain’t you?
“Well, er, uh, yes sir!

“Well, gawdamit, do what any fuggin sekretary with an ass half as pretty as yours would do and scarf me the gawddam cheeseburger – now!”

Letting his laser pointer fall on the conference table with a clatter, the then Deputy Secretary of Defense scampered out of the room as fast as a little boy who had forgotten he had to pee.
The other participants of the meeting did their best to look nonchalantly out the window; stifle and hide laughter and chuckles behind the backs of their hands or with coughs and sneezes; assiduously studied the polish of their finely manicured fingernails; or, with intense concentration, examine the fine grain of the rare tropical wood (not veneer, mind you, but solid wood!) of the conference table.

A brief moment later, Deputy Secretary Daugh returned with a platter, sat it carefully down in front of Ronald Rexona and lifted the lid with the casual elegance of a waiter in a fine restaurant.
The conference room quickly fills with the mouth watering smell of cheeseburger on hot toasted bun and the tummy rumbling fragrance of freshly fried french fries. Shortly afterwards, munchy crunchy sounds are heard and satisfied sighs of Epicurean delight come from Ronald Rexona.
Then, around a mouthful, he snarls: “Where’s the gawddam mudderfuggin dill pickles? Don’t none of you reusable azzwipes know a fellow needs dill pickles with his cheeseburger?

There are many more funny stories we could tell about Ronald Rexona’s unique form of dazzling leadership – for example the time he threw up in the face of the ambassador from a closely allied country, flicked a string of spinach from the ambassador's lapel and smirked, “Sorry about that, boy, must of been something I ate!”

Indeed there many delightful stories we could tell. However, pressed as we are for space, we will conclude our brief sketch with the usual and proper coda that Arrogant citizens can “sleep soundly at night, safe in the knowledge that their security is in the hands of a dedicated leader such as Ronald Rexona, the Supreme Hole of Arrogance.