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Rumpel Foreskin. She has come to protest the great Elon Musk's decision to defund corrupt

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government agencies. But, as nature so often dictates, she does not come alone. Standing

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at her side, like a vigilant potato surveying the planes, is her trusted ninja bodyguard,

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the elusive and enigmatic Jagov-Chan. His mission? To safeguard Rumpel Foreskin from

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the teeming throng, a formidable crowd of nearly fifty-seven chodes, each more ridiculous

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than the last. But Rumpel Foreskin is not the only shit-dit who has come to bitch about

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Elon. No, she has called upon an eclectic coalition of weirdos. First to the podium is a figure

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of cinematic infamy, the villain from the Spider-Man films. Willem Dafoe, an aging but still

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creepy creature, steps forward, his reasons for despising Musk as mysterious as Epistean's

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demise. But nature has a way of restoring balance. And we know that Spider-Man always defeats this

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moron. And then, like a shitstorm gathering in a port-a-potty, enters an idiot known as

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Chief Shitting Bull. A creature of great deception, she pretended to be a Native American to pay

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her tuition. Yet here she stands, undeterred, her voice echoing through the crowd like fingernails

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on a scrotum. Suddenly, an unexpected phenomenon occurs. A towering figure, resembling Montel

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Williams, dressed in drag, seizes the microphone. With a ghetto flourish, this flamboyant talk-show

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host attempts to orchestrate a chant. A performance so breathtakingly idiotic, so stupid, that it will

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be remembered, if at all, as the okayest chant ever attempted. And just when one hopes the ship show

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has reached its climax, yet another weirdo emerges from the gathering. This, my friends, is a rare sight

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indeed. Bill Nye, the science guy's dad. With an annoying voice, he implores the assembled chodes to

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believe the science! A plea that is, quite remarkably, directed toward Montel Williams in drag. Meanwhile,

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Jagov-Chan remains ever vigilant, scanning the horizon-like and angry potato. Finally, the grand finale

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approaches. Schmuck Schumer takes center stage. Like a creepy old Chester, he attempts to rouse the

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crowd, a dwindling mass now numbering just 54. But alas, nobody gives a shit, and this schmuck is left

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to chant alone. And with that, the protest dissolves into history.