A man is caught speeding on a busy highway. Pulled over to the side of the road. Apparently drunk. The police officer asks for his name and registration, driver’s license, you know the usual.
Then the man scrambles through his glove box, tossing out papers, chip bags, donut wrappers, until finally extracting a sloppy looking license card.
He passes it to the cop with grubby hands. The cop looks at it with beady eyes. Then he spits something on the ground.
“What was that?”, the guy in the car asks.
“Jesus Christ and Crackers! You’re Barack Obama!”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. President.”
“What are you talking about? My name is John, I’m just an ordinary Joe who works at the Speedy Gas Station.”
The cop ignores him, adjusts his glasses, and looks at the man with leery eyes.
“Do you know what this means? You’re coming with me, Barack.”
The man supposedly named Barack rolls his eyes and opens the car door. He steps out onto the pavement and steps in the spit crackers.
“Okay, Barack. Get in the car!”
“I’m telling you, my name is John!”
“Get in the car!”
“Trying to resist arrest? Then get on the ground, NOW!”
The man obliges, dropping to the rough asphalt on the shoulder of the highway.
The cop starts pacing around John/Barack like a drill sergeant. Cars and trucks zoom by them on the busy freeway, blowing the cop’s hair and his hat almost clear off his head.
“Okay, Barack, I’m just going to ask you one question. What are you going to do when they find out you’ve been arrested for impersonating another U.S. citizen?”
“What? I’m not…”
Then the cop throws down the card in front of “Barack”…and all is apparent. Slapped over the actual picture of John is a Barack Obama postage stamp…it was simply picked up by the immense garbage in the glove compartment; John’s name is clearly legible to right of the picture.
The disgruntled man peers up at it. “Okay, I get it. But let me get this straight…”
But before he can finish, the cop, who was also wearing a ski mask, rips it off with the hat, glasses, and a fake set of hair falling to the ground and a sheath of long blonde hair floating to her shoulders.
“Oh…”, the stunned man gasps, “You’re a blonde – who was once a guy. That explains the confusion”
(My attempt at a blonde joke)