PRS Operatives have again employed their proprietary technical skills to obtain access to Van Jones’s answering machine. Here is a sample of what they heard:

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Van, Vladimir Putin here. Tough break, Komrade, but glad to hear that you’re still on our team. One of my people will be contacting you. Be on the lookout. Our man will say, “Hello, my black soul brother. Are you with the Mets down?” You will respond, “Right on, my groovy homey.” Take the envelope and follow the instructions.
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Hi Van. Nancy Pelosi here. I was up late Saturday night doing tequila body shots and primo weed with Hilly and a well-built Scandinavian man when we heard the news. Sucks, what those wingnut bastards did to you, lying about you and all that. Hey, now that you’ll have some free time, what say you come over some night and partaaaay (wink, wink) with Hilly and me? Herbs, powders and patchouli oil will be in abundance. While we partaaaay (wink, wink), we can groove to some Joan Baez or, if you prefer, Miriam Makeba. Call me. I’m worth it.
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Hugo Chavez here. Hey, Amigo, just wanted to let you know that you have an open invitation to come down to my country. We need smart guys like you. Screw that Beck guy. I’ll make sure you have your very own radio and television shows, and you won’t have to worry about any competition from capitalist pig broadcast companies.
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Hey Van, Rahm here. Listen to me, asshole. I’ll speak real slowly. After you left fifteen f**king messages on my home phone, twenty f**king messages on my office phone and a dozen more on my f**king cell phone and you didn’t get a return call, didn’t it occur to you that I had nothing to f**king say to you. Oh, and stop with the f**king messages on the Boss’s phone too. Don’t make me unleash the IRS on your ass.
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Hi Van, Michael Moore calling. I just finished a new movie called, “Capitalism: a Love Story,” and I’d sure like to film you for an intro piece. You’d be f**king perfect. Call me. We’ll do donuts.
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Hello, Van. Keith Olbermann here. I’m planning on doing one of my awesome special commentaries about the stupid poopy heads that hounded you out of office. I think they are soooooo totally stupid, and I think you’re soooooooo freaking cool. Can we get together for a couple Brandy Alexanders and talk about it? Call me, please.
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