OurSundyBest

 

Trae:

Ted Cruz has worn many hats. Lawyer, policy advisor, professor, Senator, hats made of hooker skin, you name it. But Ted’s most recent job application, for President of the United States of America (piercing Bald Eagle caw), was was summarily denied this week. Poor Ted. Even though he was Anointed by The Lord, he still was no match for The Donald. That’s got to sting. Knowing God lied to your wife’s stupid face like that. Knowing that God clearly hates you (and your stupid face). And so does literally everyone else.

Maybe it’s us, but man if you are reviled by the hierarchy of anthropomorphic lizards who run the Republican Party, then it would seem as though you are just the worst. I mean that’s like Alabama football fans thinking you’re a dumbass. If the cream of the crop of dumbasses think that you’re a dumbass, then you prolly need to go back to potato.

So it really shouldn’t be that surprising that Ted lost, but he didn’t just lose; he lost with…whatever the opposite of style is. He picked an arguably more insane lizard to be his intended Reptilian Queen…

He then sought affection from his father in the presumably typical fashion of humiliating a woman. All before getting absolutely trounced by a man who literally accused his father of being involved in the Kennedy assassination. Look at all that one more time…Jesus Christ this country has jumped the fuckin shark.

But either way, Ted is dead. Or his campaign anyway. I mean he’s probably also literally dead because that dude is clearly a fucking husk. So what now, Ted? Yes, he is still the Junior Senator from Texas, but it’s not like he’s ever done that job in the first place. So we at OSB got to thinking:

What Job Should Ted Cruz Have Now?

TRAE (@traecrowder)

Alright I gotta be honest here y’all. After our first blog post,and then my most recent Liberal Redneck video, I’ve said about all I care to say about this saurian sack of shit. I could not possibly be happier that he’s out of this race, and not just because  of spontaneously vomiting when I see his face without being warned first.

I’m also thrilled he’s out because y’all, fuck this dude. I am supremely opposed to the farcical circus that would be a Trump presidency, but if you put a gun to my head and made me choose him or Cruz, I’d grab that gun and press it harder against my brow while screaming “DO IT MOTHERFUCKER! DO IT!! COME ON!! BE A MAN!! JUST DO IT!!!” and then you would put the gun down because you’re not a killer, you’ve never been a killer, and this was all just a figure of speech anyway.

Nah I’d pick Trump. I mean…gross, but yes I would. Over Cruz. All day, everyday. I don’t know that I’ve ever been more revolted by a candidate, and I’ve seen Sam Hunt get nominated for Country Album of the Year.

So yeah, to hell with Ted. I don’t really give a fuck what he does now, but if I could choose what job Ted would work next, I have something in my mind. I would make Ted be an assistant front-of-the-house manager at the Cracker Barrel in Guntersville, Alabama. But he would only work Sundays. A double shift every single Sunday.

For any readers who have ever been a server before, especially in the Bible Belt, y’all already know where I’m goin with this. For anyone else, I’ll elaborate on why I would pick this profession for ol Teddy Turdheart. Ya see, I was a server for about 4 years in college, at an O’Charley’s in Cookeville, TN. I didn’t hate it. Actually had a lot of fun there, and I don’t think there’s a better part-time job for a college student. I generally enjoyed working there, for what it was at the time.

Except for Sunday Brunch. Fuck Sunday Brunch. Look, I’m an avowed Not-Christian, so I realize it may seem like bias, but if you ask any honest server who the worst tippers are, the odds are 83.5% or better that they will tell you that its the God Squad. It’s horrible. I could have them goddamn rolls on  the table before Aunt Tammy’s even had a chance to talk shit about Eileen and them tacky ass shoes she’s so proud of, and what would it get me? Not damn much, buddy let me tell ya. Sometimes a pocket Bible (no shit); sometimes nothin, and usually about five percent. Meanwhile the Lord been ignoring their prayers for the middle boy to not be gay no more for years, but that sumbitch still gets his 10%, please believe it.

And it’s not just that they don’t tip worth a shit. They put you through hell to get that sorry ass tip. You see, many of them do not approve of working on the Lord’s day. Or well, it’s more accurate that they don’t approve of you not going to church on the Lord’s day, even though somebody has got to bring them their fuckin chicken tenders. I don’t know if they expect restaurants to staff Sundays with exclusively pygmies or Jews or some shit but regardless, they don’t appreciate you literally waiting on them hand and foot. Just don’t set right with em, you being their servant and all. Ourt be the Lord’s servant, I guess. Or whatever. I don’t know. They suck.

Which is exactly why this is the life I want for Ted. After all, these are his people. His constituency. These were the people who were supposed to deliver him unto the Promised Land, which apparently is located at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. And they failed him. They let him down. Now obviously it was he who failed them but you know that ain’t how it’s playin out in that frog brain of his. You know he’s bitter. You know he resents em. And I want him to be reminded of just how shitty the people he so baldly panders to can be every Sunday, all day long, forever.

Just imagine it. Imagine a man who thought he was literally chosen by God to be the most powerful man in the world, having to grovel to some tractor-salesman-Deacon because “this coffee ain’t hot don’t you know what hot coffee is that little girl said it was a fresh pot but now I know better believe somebody ourt send you down to McDonald’s so they could teach you how to serve hot coffee now this is just ridiculous…”. And all Ted can do… is take it.

Have fun Ted.

 

COREY: (@coreyfcomedy)

Poor ole Teddy 2 Peckers (The Human one and the Lizard one what is mashed inside of it). I guess we finally answered the question “Is America ready for a Cuban Reptile Christian from Canada?” with a resounding “Pfffffffttt!”. His candidacy was certainly interesting though; I mean, it’s not every day you get to see a man with the last name CRUZ underperform with Latino voters against Rick “Do these Dockers make my gun look like a Penis?” Perry.

Many people claim that Ted Cruz is secretly the Zodiac Killer, but let’s think about that for a second – serial killers are typically charming white men. I mean hell, Ted Bundy was still laying the wood long into his prison term. Ted Cruz is about as charming as footage of the North Tower falling with Nickleback playing in the background. Plus, the Zodiac Killer was mysterious. The only thing mysterious about Ted Cruz is the fact that there isn’t footage of him licking an ice cream cone by himself wearing bicycle shorts next to the entrance for Space Mountain. Truly blows my mind.

I’ve thought long and hard (Name two things Ted Cruz isn’t… and CIRCLE GETS THE SQUARE!) about what Ted Cruz should do now that his campaign is over and it all keeps coming back to one thing: Lamborghini salesman in The Appalachian Mountains.

As a Lamborghini Salesman in The Appalachian Mountains, Ted will enjoy a much cooler climate that fares well with his cold, cold blood. When not at work, he and his wife can enjoy long walks through the Appalachian trail wearing the zip-off cargo pants filled with dried apples you just KNOW they have.

And what geographical destination would be a more perfect fit for a man who voted AGAINST the “Violence Against Women Act” than Ole Appalachia? The locals will take to him like flies on a donkey’s butthole because statistically, Appalachian men beat their women like it was a job the USED to have until corporate fat-cats raped their land and got them addicted to Hillbilly Heroin.

That’s right, Teddy, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal. Enjoy everything the rural South has to offer: a crippled economy and a heartbreaking pill epidemic that was bought and paid for by “Good Christian Men” like yourself. Think being a Lamborghini Salesman in a poverty stricken area will be too much work for ya? I disagree – because selling people fancy horse shit that goes against their best interests is right in your wheelhouse, you theocratic so-and-so! Good luck to ya 🙂

DREW: (@averagedrew)

In all the pressure and work leading up to losing to a potato skin in a wig, I feel like Ted’s really lost sight of who he is at his core.  For example, In 2009, Cruz wrote a brief laying out the case that federal stimulus money would “directly further the greater purpose of economic recovery for America” if given to retired Texas teachers. On his campaign trail, however, he’s consistently shat on similar stimulus programs President Obama has instituted. I think he’s just confused about who he wants to be.

Which is why I think ol’ Ted should just take a gap year and figure out who he is.

Perhaps backpackin through Thailand is what he needs to get in touch with “Teddie,” that cute little  Cuban American (Canadian) boy who loved nothing more than to pray with his father and torture animals for fun probably. Is that boy still in there, somewhere? Rentin a scooter and riding through Bangkok dodgin ladyboys and drinkin tea on a Khlong tour, perhaps he’ll find him.

 

Alternatively, why not spend some time island hopping, hittin up Belize, the Caribbean, and/or Greece? Live a little, Ted. Buy a yacht. Do some Molly with Italian models. Hell, fuck a black girl.

You have the money to be a jettsettin partier. And you’ve earned it. I mean the stories of how Christ-like you were at those two very expensive private Christian high schools you attended are at this point as legendary as the one about how your father was a poor dishwashing exiled Cuban immigrant. You know the one about how he supported Castro then later recanted, came to the US where his COLLEGE job was washin dishes, and then he went on to raise you on his no doubt humble salary as OWNER of a seismic-data processing firm for the Oil Industry. I really don’t know how he did it. Coming from such meager upper-class beginnings, and holding yourself to such high standards, I think it’s time for you to let loose Ted.

Or perhaps you could spend a year at sea. Just a man, his thoughts, and the wild untamable ocean. Out there on your sailboat, you could ponder the nature of mankind, our esteemed quests for greatness, and all our follies. Maybe in the days and nights on the endless blue, you’ll catch up on the novels you’ve been meaning to write about yourself. Somewhere out there where the stars meet the water, perhaps you’ll look out and think deeply about your wife, what’s her name, and how much she means to your image.

And may haps your ol’ buddy God will converse with you once again, and explain to you why it was He asked you to run for President in the first place. He might tell you why making you fail miserably and lose embarrassingly to a dried apricot in a black suit in front of the entire nation was part of His plan for you. Perhaps He will tell you why he made you and your family go through the public shame of having everyone see how awful you are at interacting with each other, and give you guidance on what lessons you should take from this going forward.

Or maybe He will tell you to grow up. Maybe he will tell you that He doesn’t care if we capitalize his name or that he ain’t even a he or a she and the Universe is too grand a place to be contained by your extremely basic ideologies about him/her. Perhaps she will also tell you that she is sick of your bullshit. Maybe God will open up your mind and your heart to other people and you’ll realize how we are all connected to one another in ways so mysterious it actually moves you. And you might learn that no all-powerful being is guiding the minute details of your life or gives enough of a damn to dictate the outcome of such trivial bullshit as making sure you or anyone else is who America picks to tell us we are number one and safe and the best.

And maybe you’ll learn a thing or two about who you are, but also who you are not. Maybe you’ll learn some humility and stop claiming to know what God wants for everyone else on this planet.

Or maybe you’ll just die in an awful and scary way, and that would also hit for me.