On that fateful night in 1972 when the Watergate Hotel was stolen in the night. President Flixon, in his colour televised speech to the masses on the qualities of all American dog chow, strenuously and stringuolosy denied it, claiming there never was a Watergate Hotel and you’re probably thinking of Hilton on 12th.
Of course, this went right against the word of journalist Woodward and Burnsberns (famous for their series of articles ‘Wood/Burns!’) and their informant Deep Throat, as immortalised in the 1970’s pornographic biopic Pete’s Dragon (‘Look out damsels, its fiery!’).
But we need to go back even further than the 70’s, way further, all the way to 1961; the bay of pigs, the year of the sow and the invention of microwave bacon loaves.
The other failed plots to assassinate island-king Castro Von Castro.
Exploding Cigar: the game was given away when Castro spotted the comically long fuse, and Wile E Coyote (Lt) chuckling behind a boulder.
Poisoned Cigar: We use such all-American quality pancreatic and lung carcinogens such as the ever popular tobacco-specific n-nitrosamines. See plot 441: Normal Cigar
The Rocket-Powered Arsenic: The trick is aiming it down his throat.
Parrot with Dynamite Beak: Self-explanatory, unfortunately, the parrot won’t shut up about it. ‘Polly a secret weapon’ or ‘Polymer-bonded explosive
The Bear Hug: Disguise a bear (American grizzly) as his affectionate cousin. During the hug, have the bear plant some drugs on Castro. Note: This plan relied on the penalty for drug possession to be immediate and automatic death.
Big Fat Hand: We constructed a big fat paper-mache hand, and planned to simply swat Castro like a fly or possible silverfish. Alas, Castro again slipped through our fingers. We believe he went into hiding beneath the fridge until we left.
Big Fat Man: I don’t know, we thought he might fall and crush him, or build up some snow ball effect or raise the climate though body temperature or something.
Old age: As yet the trap has not sprung, although some advisers still to this day insist it may happen yet.
Conch shell: Castro hears the sea, so he sticks his head in and drowns. Long shot.
Washington rifle: We fire our first president’s cherry-tree-terrorising gun roughly in the direction of Cuba. Longer shot.
Assas-O-Boticus: The mechanical masher so popular at demolition derbies (itself a new phenomena at the time) in the lower states and 3D drive-in fuckies alike. Unfortunately, when the 18 foot crushoid-model was in mid-smuggle across the border, he made the classic mistake of replying to the guard’s ‘Your German is very good, ya ya, big time’ in English. In hindsight, going the long away in Cuba via Europe was a mistake.
Cuban Mid-Life Crisis: Similar to the Old Age plan and identical to the plot of Wild Hogs, this involved planting several gray (grey at the time) hairs amongst Castro’s beard
Boomerang Breadstick: It came back. Every damm time.
Breadstick Breadstick: Much better, but little damage
Breadstick Beretta Model 12: Not sure if it’s officially a breadstick, and as a throwing weapon it was deemed less effective.
Operation Desert Storm: As it sounds, we operate a cloud filled with sand, and bury the bastard. Unfortunately its proven difficult to find a cloud-pilot who operates locally, after our old one was knocked unconscious and into a meat grinder (plan 613) by a boomerang breadstick and previous joke.
Abandoned Glass Bathtub filled with Jellybeans on side of road: Castro tries to guess the number, we steal his car.
Abandoned Plan-Maker filled with bullets on side of road: Hey, it might work, maybe give him the heebie jeebies or serve as a warning of about the jellybean bath. We just have one spare lying around.