 The president's spending habits are way out of control. Oh, I can't afford that. Yes! Somebody needs to tell him to hold his horse. I tell ya, I'm a financial genius. I buy an $8 lobster, fatten it to an $80 lobster, and eat the profit. Why? Because the horse really needs a hug. Now you hold your horse feathers, little seed. Hold your horse for crying out loud. Hey, hold your horses. I'm sorry, is that offensive? Horses have feelings too. Not only do they not hold their horse, they work the poor horse to death. But Boston's 300 miles away, and Ben kicked our horse to death. We'll never get there, Aunt. And then, once dead, they continue to beat the dead horse. But beat the dead horse out there! By the way, the administration is looking to hire a new chief economic spokesman to really drive their distorted message forward with a lot of horse power. A horse on horse? Of course, of course. But nobody wants the job. No thanks. Because they know they will end up alone, eventually dead, with their dead horse corpse continually beaten. I'll give you anything if you would only stop hitting me. Please stop pulling my nose. It is not fake. I think I am dying. Please take me to the hospital.