Debateylicious!

Beyonce will be performing that song, "Debateylicious," with P. Diddy's "Vote or Die" tour coming soon to a college campus near you.

The Vice-Presidential debate was tonight and, once again, I had class, so I taped the shit and watched it when I got home. I had a Spanish test tonight, too, that I rushed through because I knew that as soon as I was done I could go home and get to watching the debate. I really don't know why I don't have a girlfriend.

Dick Cheney was, on numerous occasions, a split second from shedding his human skin and materializing before everyone in his true form, as the cloven-hoofed Demonlord of the Underworld--but he didn't. I kept expecting John Edwards to turn his head to look at the audience for a moment, and turn back toward Dick Cheney who, in that split second, had managed to remove John Edwards's trachea with his mouth, his face covered in the blood of the pure North Carolina Senator. "It's like drinking the blood of Jesus and a baby seal," Cheney would say, half-surprised that the audience has reacted so negatively to his action.

Of course, I'm biased, so I think John Edwards won the debate because Dick Cheney kept repeating stuff that wasn't true or completely out of context. John Edwards had a lot of things to say (Haliburton, Saddam-9/11 connection) that Cheney couldn't even respond to. The coolest thing was that Cheney kept saying, "I don't know where to start," when talking about how he would rebut an Edwards statement. This is what's called, in debate terms, having nothing to say and buying time while you think.

Anyway, the woman who moderated the debate, the woman who also used to host Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego, sucked. Her questions weren't anything special, but one of her questions was just retarded. She asked the candidates to answer without using their runningmate's name in the response. What kind of shitty-ass improv game was she trying to start? She may as well have said, "Okay, Vice-President Cheney, you're a genie and, Senator Edwards, you're a gas-station attendant. Also, you can only talk in questions. And, GO!"

It's like the kind of games I play with myself to make life more interesting. Like the game where I wake up in the middle of the night and have to go to the bathroom but I can't turn the light on. The game is to time myself to see how long it is from the time I start peeing, to the time it actually starts hitting water. Sometimes this can go on for minutes.

Quick answer to a question somebody had in the previous post: I used the Scooby Doo picture because I made a Scooby Doo reference ("...if it weren't for you pesky kids"). I'd never put a picture up without it having some sort of context.

Rodney Dangerfield died today. In anticipation of shitty news headlines everywhere, how many will use the word "Respect" in some form of another in the title? The answer: All of them. Fuck writers. I can't believe Rodney Dangerfield died. It seems like just yesterday he was IN A FUCKING COMA FOR WEEKS. Jesus, people. Quit acting like these things are such a surprise. Not since Pope John Paul's death in the upcoming month will the world be so surprised to hear of somebody struck down in the prime of their youth. Pope John Paul's death is more overdue than the copy of "God, Are You There? It's Me, Margaret" that I've had on my nightstand since I was 10.

Interesting thought of the day:
You can definitely get AIDS by eating a bottle of pills marked "AIDS pills--Don't Eat! We're not even sure why we make these!"