Master Debaters Only Stimulate Themselves!

This Thursday night there will be a solid three hours of completely rehearsed spontanaeity in the first of three Presidential debates. This "debate" has more rules than the restraining order Chuck E. Cheese (the company, not the actual man, he died in 1986 of congestive heart failure) sent me for "defacing the Chuck E. Cheese suit with more than one unclean bodily fluid." I really like pizza. Sue me.

I'm just afraid that, under the hot lights, John Kerry will finally finish melting. He's been on the verge for years now, but using a cryogenic containment unit that they put on his head between public appearances and lots of Wetnaps®, they've been able to control that.

George W. Bush may have a tough time if he can't figure out a way to work September 11th into every single sentence he says. He works that angle more than Al Bundy and his four touchdowns in one game. It's irritating that people actually fall for the stuff that he says. Republicans say anything they want but as long as they say it with a discerning scowl, people take it at face value. "It's been proven by a panel of people who prove things that John Kerry has, in fact, raped a robot. I know. I couldn't believe it myself, but somebody said so, so it must be true. September Eleventh." They're wiley.

I think the Presidential debates would be much more entertaining if they were both hooked up to a lie detector and each time it went off ("went off" in the fictional way that lie detectors buzz when somebody's lying) a member of their family would be shot in the chest at point blank range by a Cherokee Indian using a traditional bow and arrow (Small Pox-infected blankets optional). I think that this way both candidates wouldn't throw out information that may or may not be true. And, actually, I think G.W. would be pushed to (public) incontinence.

I think it's a sign of my age and somewhat political activism that I'm actually excited about the debates coming up. I feel like Anthony Michael Hall's character in The Breakfast Club. "Why do you have a fake I.D.?" "So I can vote." I hope and pray to Allah every day that somehow the stubborn sheep of the right wing will learn the error and close-mindedness of their ways and burn their cowboy hats and "I hate the gays" bumper stickers in protest.

Sometimes it seems like people vote based on what they grew up with instead of actually figuring out their own ideals. A lot of people treat their party (both Republicans and Democrats) like it's a sport's team that they can't just let go. It's a shame that people stick to the name rather than the ideals that the candidate pushes forth. It would be interesting to see if everybody was left in a bubble with only their own mind to tell them what to think instead of Fox News or CNN or the homeless guy near work who says he's voting for a week-old ham sandwich. I'm not sure what side would "win out," but at least this way it would be much more pure. Right now, after I vote, I feel like I have to take a shower or at least get a scalding hot water and bleach enema.

Well, it turns out that that girl from my Spanish class has a pretty good front, too. I probably won't say anything to her because I'm just a dirty old man; I'll just quietly masturbate in the back (in Spanish).

Interesting thought of the day:
If you're voting for the candidate that Don King is endorsing, you really may want to rethink that choice.

I got my political on today. I'm so fucking multi-faceted.