This article is part of the The Bradford Exchange series.
I AM BARACK OBAMA. BEHOLD THE TRAIN THAT BEARS MY LIKENESS.The Underground Railroad is ready to surface at long last! This is an authentic replica of the actual train Barack Obama rode in as he crossed this great land, from the noble depths of the Confederate States to the homosexual witch covens of the north. It will be in a train just like this one (but much bigger!) that Barack Obama rides on his fateful voyage into both the White House and history books when he finally takes office.
For those of you thinking this train is tacky, I say to you: shut the hell up. This is way better than the nearly identical model train with pictures of Star Trek characters on the side, or pictures of Spider-Man, or pictures of various sports teams and dead NASCAR deities. This is as classy and respectful as you can get. Aside from the Confederate-themed train set, this is probably the finest historical train set ever made.
Christmas in the world of Thomas Kinkade is alienating and strange. At first glance we see an idyllic Holiday scene complete with a beautiful home, snowy rooftop, and Christmas décor. But what's this? It appears Santa Claus himself is in the midst of a visit. What luck! His sleigh and assorted reindeer are parked outside.
"You'll love watching the rapt expressions of your family and friends as they experience this exclusive limited-edition Thomas Kinkade Christmas décor."
The problem is that Santa seems to be in two places at once. I realize the Bradford Exchange has always been about giving you more bang for your buck. Why put in one dragon or eagle when you can put in two, and then paint more dragons and eagles on the sides of those dragons and eagles? But this... this is just confusing. Clearly one Santa has to be an imposter!
If I had to guess the real Santa, my money would be on the one downstairs near the Christmas tree. The one upstairs? Some kind of deranged shut-in or shape-shifting demon. Using the Bradford Exchange's state-of-the-art zoom feature, I was able to snag this disturbing close-up.
Note the hideous, possibly dead face hovering over Santa #2's shoulder. WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN THIS HOUSE OF HORRORS?
I suppose THE VOICE OF THOMAS KINKADE might shed some light on this mystery, but alas I cannot hear it without spending the $135.00 to purchase this. Somebody please rip THE VOICE OF THOMAS KINKADE to mp3 using the highest scene standards so that I can put it on my iPod.
For a limited time only, this update is also available painted on the side of nature's mythical unicorn. Heavy demand is expected! Order today!
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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