August 6th. “Hello Cleveland!”. The first GOP debate.
The largest field of political reprobates ever assembled. Horseshit ground zero. After the obligatory Likud party pandering, it’s a seventh-grade food fight. Shouts of “presidential catastrophes”, “Cutting Christians’ heads off”, and how the country must “protect children instead of rip up their body parts and sell them like they’re parts to a Buick.”
Scott Walker (WI) and John Kasich (OH) diss each other over who has the most religious fundamenalist street cred.
Chris Christie (Gov. NJ) thin-shames Rand Paul (KY) and shapeshifter Ted Cruz (TX) talks up the “Washington cartel.”
All the while Asberger’s neurosurgeon Ben Carson fades in and out of reality, rambling in a slow, bizarre monotone.
Trump keys in on the Game of Thrones fan vote, proffering to build a forty-foot tall wall of ice to keep out the army of undead brown walkers from Guatemala just itching to invade our vulnerable southern border at a moment’s notice.
Former Florida governor Jeb Bush stands around with the morbid expression of a man who just got caught fingering his dead grandmother. “Shockered and awed.”
But it’s when Fox New’s Megyn Kelly calls out The Donald’s description of women as “fat pigs” and “disgusting animals” that first blood is drawn. Is this it? Is Trump gonna be the first one voted off The Island? Surely this will crack his nuts right out of the gate.
Wrong! The Donald swells up like a toad, raccoon eyes focused on the camera, a big ‘Can’t touch this, bitch’ smile etched on his face. “It’s fun. It’s kidding. We have a good time.”
For the rest of the “debate” Trump roasts the other candidates like he’s working on material for an upcoming HBO comedy special. No one’s spared from the radioactive fallout, especially noted political theorist Rosie O’Donnell.
Even after the festivities wind down, Donnie’s in full rant mode, unloading his entire unhinged hate wad onto Megyn Kelly’s face. “You could see there was blood comeing out of her eyes, blood coming out of her wherever.”
Polls show roughly 100% of viewers have no clue what the fuck they just watched. Thirty-three percent thought it was the sign of the Rapture. Twenty-four percent thought it was funniest SNL skit ever, and forty-three percent said they lost the will to vote.
The first two Democratic debates give off the same stench of a fading republic turning into a sleazy telenovela masquerading as a country. It opens up with the obligatory vow of Israel über alles before bursting into a low volume pissing match between Hillary Rodham Clinton (NY) vs. Bernie Sanders (VT). The Conjoined Triplets of Political Failure, Martin O’Malley (MD)/Jim Webb (VA)/Lincoln Chafee (RI) try to get into the act, but no one cares.
In a nutshell, these “debates” focus on Hillary’s scandalous email problems. When asked if she’s “wiped” the server she’d sent to federal investigators. Clinton responds. “What, like with a cloth or something?” After endless agonizing over how her Microsoft Outlook account has fucked up her life, even bleeding heart Sanders has had it. “The American people are sick and tired of hearing about your damn emails!”
Frustrated, Bernie grabs a laser pointer and burns a hammer and sickle into his forehead, then starts blathering about depressing stuff like poverty, income inequality, climate change and campaign finance reform for “super PACS”.
This bores the audience into a state of narcolepsy. Hectored by thoughts of a communist revolution, Hillary admits to having no idea how her Blackberry works.
100% of viewers admitted to sleeping through “large portions of this horseshit.” Twenty-eight percent got triggered by the term Blackberry, Thirty-one percent think Bernie Sanders is a transsexual ex-pornstar whose had a videotaped gangbang with the Kardashians, and a good forty-one percent want to flee to Bulgaria.
Meanwhile, all the little pundits gloat about about how presidential Hillary looks and statistical polling dorks like Nate Silver put the odds of her switching over to gmail within the Gregorian Calendar Year at over 57%.
Randy Duke
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Hank Cignatta
Sono la mente insana che sta alla base di Bad Literature Inc. Giornalista pubblicista, Gonzo nell’animo, speaker radiofonico, peccatore professionista, casinista come pochi. Infesto il web con i miei articoli che sono dei punti di vista ( e in quanto tali condivisibili o meno) e ho una particolare predisposizione a dileggiare la normalità. Se volete saperne di più su di me e su Bad Literature Inc. e volete proprio farvi del male, leggete i miei articoli. Ma poi non dite che non siete stati avvertiti.
