Today, I embark upon my very own campaign. Today, I officially throw my thong in the ring to become Jill Biden v 2.0.
JILLIAN LOVEJOY LOWERY:
While President Barack Obama and Vice President Joe Biden are hard at work bringing the change this country so desperately needs, I am left to wonder, who is looking out for these guys? Specifically, Vice President Biden? Playing second fiddle to Obama can’t be easy. Why, on the campaign trail, he even said, “Being around this lean young-looking guy is making me feel pretty old, you know what I mean? I thought I was in pretty good shape until I hung out with this guy.” Sounds like someone needs an ego boost.
To that end, I am here to offer Biden the Change He Needs. The Change He Deserves.
Mr. Vice President, may I present you with…myself? Today, I embark upon my very own campaign. Today, I officially throw my thong in the ring to become Jill Biden v 2.0.
There is no denying that the original Jill Biden is lovely. But I’m younger, and I’m just a little bit crazy, which men seem to really, really like. Mr. Vice President, I promise you will not be disappointed, should you decide to switch to me.
I understand you. People say you put your foot in your mouth – but I think we can find something much tastier for you to chew on. I find your exuberance sexy. I like that you speak your mind, and I am invigorated by your passion. You get caught up in the moment when engaged in a heated dialogue.
I can only imagine how this translates into other arenas, like your bedroom suite, for example. Joe Biden, you look like a take-charge kind of guy, and that’s a-ok with me, if you catch my drift. Our safe word will be “Blue Hens.”
But you also have a sensitive side, don’t you, Mr. VP/Former Senator/Current Sexpot Biden? You would kiss my eyelids as I cried, wouldn’t you? I saw those photos of you dancing with Jill at the inauguration. Very sweet. Tender, even.
I mean, look at this:
Um, hello? Hot! The hotness of this whole scene is undeniable.
And you know what else? Even if this whole Vice President thing hadn’t worked out for you, I’d still be all hot and bothered. Even without that fancy new title, I’d have been happy to let you ride me nightly like that Delaware commuter train you’re so fond of. Hell, I’ll even go further than that. I’ll actually go to Delaware, make tea for your mother and go shopping with your daughter, Ashley. It won’t be strange at all that she’s a mere three years younger than me.
No disrespect intended, Jill Biden v. 1.0. I know you are a magnificent lady.
But these are turbulent times. So let’s shake things up a bit, shall we?
Dr. Jill Biden is a Second Lady I can get behind.
HOWARD MEGDAL: Change has come to America. Washington D.C. is sexy again.
And nowhere is it sexier than in the person of, The Second Lady who is first in my most depraved dreams.
How foolish I was not to take your English Composition class at Delaware Technical and Community College, for the chance to be hot for teacher and write that convinced you to keep me after hours. I can picture body-chocolate subjects and predicates all over you–I’d diagram you all night.
Come away with me, Dr. Jill. It must kill you to hear your husband’s English. My pillow talk won’t consist of, to paraphrase his Rudy joke, “A noun, a verb, eighteen adjectives, and three stories about former Senator Claiborne Pell.”
How do you stand his endless subordinate clauses while looking so beautiful? Let me be your subordinate clause. Be my subject, treat me like an object, and the verbs that unite us will not be suitable for broadcast TV.
I thank you for your service to our military, particularly the work you’d done with the Delaware Boots on the Ground program. What a morale booster you must be for those troops—especially in these boots.
Or these. Your administration won’t have ended torture as long as these pictures are online to haunt my nights. How I yearn to enter your Naval Observatory—now finally unscrambled like a once off-limits cable porn channel.
Let’s face it—you make Joe Biden look like Dick Cheney. You make look like—well, she’s not winning any beauty contests, regardless.
And I don’t care if it’s just a PhD—you can play doctor with me anytime. You taught emotionally disturbed adolescents—now help me with my emotionally disturbed adolescent fantasies about you. We can steam things up all over the First State—and I’ll come begging for seconds.
You can run my fingers through my hair, and not worry what part of my body they came from, while I ravish your dissertation on student retention in community colleges.
You’re what kept them coming back, Dr. Jill.
You’re the hottest Philadelphia Eagles cheerleader. Let me end your years of frustration. Fly, Dr. Jill, Fly, on the road to losing your inhibitions.
I hear you run five miles a day, you Blue Star MILF. But you can’t run away from me forever. Someday you’ll tire of him, and we’ll work jointly on the Biden Breast Health Initiative—even though, I can assure you, I am fully aware of yours already.
I’ll never shush you on Oprah. Vice President? Secretary of State? You just say the word—I’ll take any position you like.