I shall henceforth be called “Ambassador Torosian” by you poor fiefs.
What are you ambassador of, you say?
Why, you didn’t see my nomination and acceptance speech on CNN?
It’s ok. Nobody watches CNN.
It just so happens to be that I’m an ambassador of…
Santa Monica.
That’s right.
The City of Santa Monica has named me one of their ambassadors.
How did this happen? You may ask.
Why? Is it because you don’t think I’m qualified? IT’S NOT LIKE YOU KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE AN AMBASSADOR, SUSAN, YOU CAN’T JUDGE ME YOU TITLE-LESS BITCH
*throws microphone across Press Corps room*
[Editor’s note: Susan Rice was indeed Ambassador to the United Nations. We apologize to now-Secretary of State Rice for the above error. The author has had a long week of moving and other, in his words, “wild shit to deal with” and appears to be under a lot of stress, though this newspaper sees that as no excuse for shouting down a US cabinet member. We are grateful she also has quick reflexes. Once again, our apologies.]
Anyway, lazy Susan’s interruptions aside, and to answer her lameass question, the call of duty was brought to me.
No, not the game. I felt the stirring of the call of duty.
Actually, I ate a Call of Duty disc for lunch because I couldn’t afford Chipotle and it totally backfired on me. But the real-life WWII action in my colon is amazing!
Having worked at Segway Los Angeles, my boss though it would be a good idea for us to get more involved in the community.
So he signed me (and my *fabulous* coworker Seth) up for what amounted to be the most boring afternoon I’ve ever spent: a Santa Monica education tour.
There’s not much to Santa Monica. There’s a beach, a few streets, a street you can walk on with stores, a ferris wheel, hippies, and hobos.
We got on a bus, and drove around the city, as a nervous first-day-on-the-job guide told us about its history.
It was at times boring and at other times very boring. I bit off all my nails in boredom, analyzed the pleather patterns on the headrest in front of me, and looked over at my concerningly-eager coworker, who, like a young puppy, was just thrilled to get out of the house and take a car ride.
But the best part was, at the very end, we each received our own certificate CERTIFYING that we, with the knowledge bestowed upon us, become Santa Monica Ambassadors.
*this is not actually me, my nose is far smaller in real life
No longer would I tell European tourists asking about the Venice Canals that I was pretty sure they didn’t exist anymore. (They do exist, I found them like three weeks ago!)
No longer would I recommend eating a hot dog on the boardwalk as a smart dietary choice. (Go to Ivy at the Shore, spend lots of money, we need tax revenue dammit!)
I was informed, empowered, and most importantly, like a certain Real Housewife of New York, had a bullshit title to my name. (Spoiler alert: not Bethenny)
And there’s not a moment to spare, folks. There’s a crisis brewing in Syria and the country, nay, the WORLD needs my input.
One on hand, you have Bashar Assad, the second leader of Syria who is accused of using chemical weapons. He’s also an opthalmologist, which confirms my theory that all eye doctors are secretly evil.
look at how evil he is, using that cold and lifeless handshake with our Speaker of the House!
On the other hand you have an assorted rebel resistance, supported by the Muslim Brotherhood and sympathetic to al-Qaeda.
In the middle you have…excuse me for one moment *starts gnawing on Santa Monica Boardwalk funnel cake* would you guys try some of this? Assad? Come on, this won’t give you glaucoma. Rebel leaders? You can’t rebel against powdered sugar!
Anyway, in the middle you have chemical weapons which Assad allegedly used against the rebels and their kids and killed hundreds of people. And of course you have President Obama who said that use of those weapons is a “red line” which, when crossed means we have to act.
We know how things work in Santa Monica. People from around the world visit us when they could visit so many other nicer beaches. Why?
The movies.
You Syrians need to get some movies made about you so people will want to visit your beautiful coastal cities like Latakia, Baniyas, and Tartus. You need hot Syrian women running up and down your white-sand beaches.
this was Google’s top hit for “Hot Syrian Woman”. there were also some photos of women who were scarred by chemical burns that just wouldn’t have worked here
To the rebels: what will you have to rebel over anymore? You will be too distracted by uninhibited, hijab-free ladies!
Another thing we do well is banning things in Santa Monica. So before you whip out your hookahs on beaches, think twice. We also don’t allow food, alcohol, pets, cameras, tourists, oxygen, or people on our pristine beaches.
We managed to ban plastic bags which saves a landfill space the size of my first apartment every year from being filled with evil plastic. It also saves the life of one shark which goes on to eat a swimmer.
So, Syrians, ban those chemical weapons and voila! they’ll disappear. Although I don’t recommend charging 10 cents extra for one, best to just ban them altogether.
Mr. President, I believe my Ambassadorial duties have been fulfilled today.
Now please don’t transfer me to Libya…
[for those looking for an actual answer for what we should do: tactical airstrikes only if we have irrefutable proof of the government using chemical weapons, but keep them absolutely limited and send no boots on the ground. make sure the force is multinational that there is indeed congressional and UN approval. and for God’s sake, don’t arm the rebels.]