Basking in the glow of the United States' unsuccessful bid for the 2016 Olympic games, Glenn Beck and his producer met furtively to plot their next opportunity to joyously celebrate another American/Barack Obama failure.

After discussing Afghanistan, health care, and A.C.O.R.N., over bowls of Cap'n Crunch and mugs of Ovaltine, the normally bored and detached Beck suddenly lit up.

"What about the swine flu," Beck asked?

"What about it," asked his producer?

"How cool would it be if a whole bunch of the vaccine tube things turned out to be... you know... poison?"

"Poison?"

"Yeah!  That would be awesome, wouldn't it?"  Without waiting for a response from his visibly shaken producer, Beck hurried over to his chalkboard, and began sketching out the idea.  He paused, then asked the producer, "How many vaccines are there gonna be?"

"I don't know, maybe 100,000,000." 

"Okay, stay with me here.  So what if, say, 20,000,000 of 'em had like Drano or something in them," Beck giggles. I bet we could find cans of Drano at Acorn offices. I bet William Ayers has a can of Drano under his unrepentant terrorist kitchen sink."

"You want 20,000,000 people to die?  Isn't that a bit... ghastly?"

"It's only ghastly if Hannity or Limbaugh blames it on Obama before we do," Beck replied."

"What gives you hope that the vaccines will be lethal?"

Beck's face turns beet red.  "Why do you always have to be so negative?"

"The nation's drug supply has a solid safety record," replied the producer.

"Until the Marxist, socialist, America hating, Obama took over. Besides, tell that to the 1982 Tylenol victims."  Beck looks wistful.  "God, why did all the best news stories happen before my time? Hey, the Tylenol thing happened in Chicago too, right?  Hmmm. I wonder what William Ayers was doing that day? Find out.  Anyway--"

"I'm sorry Glenn, but it's hard for me to get behind the idea of that many people dying, just to make Barack Obama look bad."

"Don't you mean to make Glenn Beck look good? 

The producer shrugs.

"Look, Beck said disdainfully. "You make a lot of money.  Is it easier for you to get behind the idea of a 2% tax increase?  Is it easier for you to get behind some inner city crack head getting rehab at your expense?"

"But you've had your own substance abuse problems."

"That's right Bubba, but I paid for my own help," Beck howled.

"But a lot of people that need help don't have any money... or insurance."

"Cry me a river. You're talking about the lazies, the illegals, and the Democrats, which, by the way, are a mostly a blend of the two."

The producer nods, finally falling in line with Beck.  "How do you plan to make 20,000,000 vaccines poisonous," the producer asked?

Beck looks skyward, then back to his producer.  "I can't, but God can?"

"Do you think that God wants that many people to die just to hurt Barack Obama?"

Beck thinks for a moment, tears up.  "God has answered everyone of my prayers, except one.  Why would he stop now?"

"Which one didn't he answer?"

Beck laughs.  "It was really my fault.  Apparently I didn't pray for Limbaugh to take enough OxyContin."

The producer smiles, nods.  "Okay, I'm in. What do you need me to do?"

"You have to figure out how we're gonna tie 20,000,000 dead Americans to Acorn, William Ayers, Jeremiah Wright, and to "The Kenyan" himself."

"What if the vaccines turn out to be safe and nothing horrible... I mean great, happens?"

"Then I'll pray for some other delightful calamity. Maybe something lighter, like a video of Obama snorting coke off of Katie Couric's ass." 

The producer pauses for a moment.  "Why do you hate President Obama so much?  You're both self-made, successful men?"

"What do I always fucking tell you," an exasperated Beck replied?

"I know, I know. It's not about Obama, it's about the ratings.  Your ratings."

"Thank you, now get to work. My crying lesson is at 2:00 and then I've got to go on TV and pretend that I give a shit about something other than myself."