So, there I was, sitting in my car, listening

So, there I was, sitting in my car, listening to Hall and Oates (You make-a my dreams come true-oo, woo-oo-woo-woo-oh yeah-woo-ooo-) when my dashboard happened to explode.

Ordinarily this would be a cause for great alarm, but I'd always been an A-ha guy. I fumbled in my pocket for my iPod, untangling the wires as I placed the earbuds in my ear. BOOM!

Suddenly Special Agent Michael Scarn emerged on the scene, wearing his signature top hat and purple jogging suit! "Get your own intellectual property!", shouted

the agent as he open fired on person he thought was the communist spy. "Wait! Don't shoot me!" said the other person. "I can help you get into Stalin's secret base!"

The agent accepted. They travelled long roads for months and finally reached a snow-covered facility in Antarctica. "This is where Zombie Stalin is hiding." But the communist knew

that they had little chance of overcoming Stalin's ally Barack Obama, the fearsome socialist wizard from Gay Africa. Frantically, they cast "Summon Long Form Birth Certificate,"

but it didn't appear, because not even magic could make that exist. So instead they summoned Rev. Jeremiah Wright.

The Reverend wasn't exactly an ordained minister. Rather, he was a procurer of unusual remedies, fine tinctures, concoctions, and various cures and

experimental horse breeding techniques. In one eventful trip, the Reverend had cured a little boy of mumps, gotten trashed with 3 bridesmaids down by the river, and cross-bred a