The President

(A rework. Because an asshole who will remain unnamed, for his parents never gave him one, deleted my first attempt at political satire)

Faster than a speeding bulletin. More powerful than a suo motu. Able to lease tall buildings in a single bound. Look! In the president house! Is it a turd? Is it a man? No! It’s…

Wait, what is it exactly?

What is this moustached phenomenon that has been driving the nation wild? His abilities are nothing short of remarkable.

He is responsible for the electricity shortage, the floods, the inflation, terrorism, global warming and the atrocity that is packaged milk. If you’re having a bad hair day, you know who to blame. If you are overweight, you know who to point your chubby finger at. Got fired from work? Failed your exams? Acne? Irregular bowel movements? All his fault.

The poor performance of the government forced my neighbour to cheat on her husband. My friend doesn’t pay his rent on time because of the political turmoil. Bureaucrats are so upset with the head of state they have to be bribed twice to get anything done now.

Everytime he addresses the nation someone dies. My friend’s girlfriend of six years left him because of the president. My cousin lost his job because of him. My uncle’s appendix burst because of him, the ambulance didn’t get there on time because of him and needless to say, my aunt didn’t drive him to the hospital either, because of him. Mothers frighten their children with stories about him.

Someone told me that if you say his name three times out loud you lose all your hair and grow a vestigial tail. Especially if you’re standing in front of the mirror, then the roof falls down and the toilet gets clogged as well. The mere mention of him can induce fits of epilepsy. All these talking heads on the television immediately start foaming at the mouth after referring to him.

One guy swears he met him once and never lived to tell about it. Someone else warned me that if you say something bad about him, he’ll come to your house in the middle of the night, sleep with your dog, eat your wife and kill all your food.

He allegedly owns a palace in Surrey the size of China, and makes money every time someone north of the equator breaks wind. He owns more land than you’d find in an Atlas and more accounts than you’d find in a ledger. The only reason he isn’t on the ‘richest men in the world’ list is because nobody has been able to count all his money.

But do I really believe all these stories about him? I don’t know, stranger things have turned out to be true, I suppose (like apricot seeds preventing cancer, they do you know, have you ever seen an apricot with cancer?). Largely though I think it’s just group therapy for the nation. The president is performing a necessary psychosocial service by being perceived to be evil incarnate.

Just imagine if he didn’t have such a nefarious reputation, what would we do then? How would the average Pakistani, sitting in the dark, on what used to be the roof of his house before it was blown up, which is now surrounded by flood water, where he’s surviving by eating leaves off trees, possibly cope with his tragic existence? He needs someone to abuse. Be wary of change I say, others might not make such therapeutic targets.

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7 thoughts on “The President

  1. Ugly Shoelace says:

    This reminds me of a blog post by NFP😮, well, sort of!

    Hey so why did the asshole delete your first attempt ?

    • Haseeb Asif says:

      Oh, well, you know how these things are, you let someone in your house and the next thing you know they’re deleting your blog. Well, technically this isn’t my house and I did sort of encourage him to mess with it.

      I sort of had something else going for a moment and was giving up posting. I get like that sometimes, you know, I just get obsessed with something and forget everything else and then the obsession dies out and I miss everything I’ve forgotten and then…I’m not sure what happens then, it’s normally a period of many psychotropic drugs and little consciousness.

      Like now, all I can think of at the moment is writing. I just want to sit here and write. I must have written a million novels in my head but they don’t come out so good on a word processor, you know, because then people can read them.

      And anyway I haven’t got long to live, I’m already twenty four and the average age for a person of my lung capacity is zero. I blow more smoke than a steam engine and then there’s the lack of employment and the fact that I don’t have any money for food so I had to give up eating this year.

      So I’ve been thinking, before I snuff it I should give it one last try to achieve my lifelong dream of visiting Japan but I need money for that but wouldn’t it be just the coolest thing to be the tallest person in an entire country, not counting the foreigners of course, except myself but then I know me so well I can’t really be foreign can I?

      But I don’t want to turn this into a long reply or anything so if you really want to know the whole story just…oh.

  2. Your old article is saved in my RSS. feed. Do you want it?

  3. Vivek says:

    I stumbled upon your blog yesterday and since then have read all your posts. Thanks to you I wont be writing blogs anymore.

  4. Avinandan Mukherjee says:

    The longish comment reminds me of The Catcher in the Rye.

  5. sporadicblogger says:

    I came to your blog after reading your piece published in ‘Outlook’. And reading this post just made my day. It’s bloody hilarious!😀

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