UnNews:Report: 'The Man' packs it up

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This article is part of UnNews UnNews Logo Potato1 Every time you think, you weaken the nation —Moe Howard

3 December 2008

Midtown Manhattan, NYC

I caught up with the Imperial Grand Terrestrial Master, colloquially referred to as 'The Man', recently, as he was moving out of his home in Midtown Manhattan to an undisclosed location. Still confident, but somewhat dazed, he piled his belongings into fresh boxes over the course of the day and trod them one by one to a fleet of black SUV’s awaiting his final departure. “I just never thought I would see this day” he admitted. The day he referred to was that when an African-American would be president of the United States. “I suppose it’s not the worst thing that could have happened” The Man offered, not entirely convincingly, “still,” he continued “it was something I never expected.”

The Man-2

"... never thought [he] would see this day"

Born very well-off to an American family with roots in western European royalty, The Man seemed destined to be in his pre-election position. The Man attended one of the top prep schools on the East Coast, then moved on to graduate Harvard Summa Cum Laude in 1974. After many years and much success in the private sector, his father (The Man, Sr.), informed his son that he would be stepping aside and passing the mantle to him.

“I vowed to uphold the tradition of Caucasian dominance, and ensure the rule of Europe’s descendants for the duration of my appointment” he boasted. “I was the first to institute the ‘council’ of advisers to help me make decisions, to the chagrin of my dying father, and it has backfired” The Man lamented. He seemed, however, to recognize the fact that it was he who slipped up. Staring at a news report regarding president-elect Obama on the screen of his 42 inch, flat panel, wall-mounted plasma television, The Man somberly uttered “Looks like you’re The Man, Obama. You’re The Man.”

No one knows where The Man will retreat to. Some say he will still wield power from the shadows and that his lament is a façade. Even this unbiased reporter was loathe to believe the performance. Still, as The Man stared out of the floor-to-ceiling windows in his post-modern, high-rise midtown condo, one couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for he whom we have come to know so intimately of, but so superficially about.


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