It seems like only yesteryear I had the eyes and ears of Washington on me. No high-ranking official would do anything without my say-so. How the times have changed. When I first met Karl Rove, the year was 1991. It was at a Republican fundraiser, and Newt Gingrich introduced us. He knew I was looking for someone with experience to work closely with Rick Santorum on my latest weather-control project, and Karl was the man for the job. His work with President Lincoln and his subsequent cryogenic hibernation gave him unique talents that I intended to harness for the purposes of science. After three years of work, our weather project had worked, but it didn't have the effect we were looking for. Instead of changing the moon's orbit to increase the time between tidal waves, it created a political firestorm that put Republicans into power for the first time in forty years. This was entirely unexpected, and Karl Rove agreed with me. He tried to warn Clinton, but Newt got to him first. After six months in a Conservaverter, Karl Rove's humanity had been replaced with cookie dough and patriotism. Separate, both properties are benign. Combined, they can be unstable and explosive.
I was forced out of the Republican party, and all mention of the ill-fated weather control device was stricken from public memory. The next time I saw Karl Rove, he walked in a kind of funny dancing pattern, and spoke in tongues. But I do have some good news, and not that I saved a bunch of money on my car insurance. Back in the 1920s, I bought a whole bunch of stock on margin. I'm now the majority shareholder in AT&T, Verizon, Microsoft, Sprint, Intel, and a truckload of other companies that weren't even founded during that time period. But the point is, all my bonds that I bought have matured. I'm now the richest man on Earth, including all the dolphins.
I've tried to use my wealth to obtain the Republican-created weather device before its fusion generator explodes, but Ken Melman no longer answers my calls. It's imperative that I gain access to the inner echelons of the Republican party, or the fate of the very Earth itself is in danger. They control the weather, and through it, all your souls. That's one of the little tidbits that I kept hidden from Dick Cheney during “The Quickening.” But I fear that using the device for so long has had negative effects. Santorum's proximity to it has caused his poll numbers to inexplicably drop.
So if you're reading this, Newt, give me the machine! Only I know how to recalibrate its cumulal biotechtronics! The tactical simulator is failing me... I no longer has control over the zombie regime, but you still must believe me! Time's up.