President Me by Adam Carolla Read Free Book Online

for smoking up the room, but meanwhile you pump porn in so that people can beat off with impunity. I imagine that if you were to ask the patrons of your hotel which they would rather have, the room in which someone recently smoked half a Marlboro Light or the room where a guy made a jizz pentagram on the bedspread, they’d go for the secondhand smoke instead of the left-hand beat-off every time.
    In my America, hotels are now 50 percent smoke-free and 100 percent spooge-free, though it will be sad then to see all the guys outside on the sidewalk twenty feet away from the entrance beating off into the gutter, bumming lube off of strangers. Though as I’ll soon be staying only in presidential suites, I’ll enact an exception for them. I’d be honored to sleep on Eisenhower’s crusty sheets.
    And finally there’s this.

    I took this picture in a hotel in Milwaukee. I looked at the back of my door and noticed the peephole. But then I looked just below it and thought, “What is this? That glory hole will work for me, but what about the average-sized gentleman?” I then realized it was a peephole for little people. At first I was angry about lawyers and how everything has to be constructed to accommodate everyone nowadays, but then I thought, “C’mon, Adam. Quit being an asshole. Midgets can be businessmen, they can travel and use the same hotels you do, and they’ll need to answer their door too.” But then I thought, “What are the chances another midget has come to rape them? When the midget looks out that peephole, isn’t he just going to see the regular-sized person’s balls? ‘Wait a second, I don’t recognize those balls. I didn’t order a Denver omelet. Turn around, let me see your asshole.’ ”
    So to recap—hotels will soon be decaf-, room-service-tip-, double-peephole-, novelty “Do-Not-Disturb”-sign-, wake-up-call-, key-card-electronic-control-, and jizz-pentagram-free, all with one stroke of my presidential pen.
    THE FOOD-SERVICE INDUSTRY
    This is the fastest-growing sector of our economy, because our fat asses are the fastest-growing sector of our bodies.
    As a former McDonald’s employee, I did plenty of complaining about that company in my previous book. And it’s obviously a thriving American business. But I’d like to offer one suggestion. I know the plan is to shut down breakfast at ten thirty and switch to the lunch menu, but you are missing out on millions in Egg McMuffin sales. Especially on Saturday when ten thirty is still hangover time. If you don’t make this change, I’m going to do it for you. I’ll just roll into Mickey D’s at 10:25, order sixty-five Egg McMuffins, stand at the front of the drive-through, and tell all the people rolling up hoping for one after ten thirty, “Here’s your Egg McMuffin. That’ll be eighty-seven dollars and a blowjob, please.”
    And I would like to order McDonald’s to knock it off with the toys in the Happy Meal. This has created an aspect of our culture that I see, and despise, with my kids. Every day they need a new toy. Every meal, every event, every trip to the park needs to be commemorated by bringing home a cheap piece of Chinese plastic shaped like a character from whatever forgettable animated movie is out that summer.
    Here’s a new law for all restaurants, especially delis and diners. Once you serve over seven different kinds of sandwiches or more than two varieties of french fries, you must also offer coleslaw. There’s nothing more annoying than going to a restaurant, ordering a nice pastrami or smoked-turkey sandwich, and not having a side of coleslaw to go with it.
    Strike that. The only thing worse is when they do have coleslaw but have gone all fancy pants with it. I got some coleslaw the other day with apples and cranberries in it. I’ve seen coleslaw with golden raisins. Stop trying to make it good