And next up, a clever skit we like to call The Biden-Palin Debate!
He's a crusty but benign, crafty but loquacious Washington vet who's seen his share of triumph and tragedy; she's the spunky Alaskan spark plug who's ignited the belch and buckshot crowd with her folksy, no-muss approach to runnin' things and her belief that Adam walked with Tyrannosaurus Rex. Something for everybody!
While technically speaking the McCain-Obama debate was in many respects a tie (mostly in that both candidates pretty much stayed on script) it is of course clear as crystal which one has leadership skills and which one wears a truss. Even at his age, Ronald Reagan probably never sat on his balls while in the Oval Office, as every morning Mommy carefully wrapped them in downy, cotton batting and then secured them with good, old, made-in-the-USA duct tape to his tender inner thigh. At least that's what I assume, given the dearth of information on the subject. I tried Googling it and my search turned up -17, which is possible given the polydimensional characteristics of the internet. What time is it? Also, I taste pennies...
McCain, who proved (along with most busty weather girls and many sitcom actors) that he can ably hit marks and handle memorized bullet points while in front of a stationary camera, nonetheless acted in the weeks which led up to the debate like a chicken without a head, feet, thighs and Pope's Nose. Back and forth, to and fro Maverick clucked, pecking at his own reflection in passing hub caps and crowing dyspepsia when anyone stopped to listen. And yet, people still remain undecided. They must like their chicken nutty.
Much the same can be anticipated with Madame Governor as she pounds her podium this Thursday evening, certain to strike a chord in all who see in her their own hopes and dreams: mostly, hopes of changing the name of America to Christopia and dreams of the perfect Chex-Mix recipe to be distributed to all of those poor brownish colored people one sometimes sees from their car. She has her detractors who say that she is yet another cynical ploy to win an election without regard to thereafter governing, something the Repunzels (I'm running out of derisive monikers that sound like "Republican." Any suggestions will be entertained) have down to an art. She also has her fans, guys who respond to her pulchritude like drugged lab rats and dunderheaded women who can't look past Palin's gender to see her other disqualifying traits, like she's a dolt. If being a woman was all it took to engender unflinching loyalty, why not have one with actual political experience, like Eva Braun or Madame Nhu? That they've been dead for some time should only be a speed bump on the way to shattering that glass ceiling, ladies!
Joe Biden may have his hands full with this Every Gal. He can't use his superior intellect and experience against her lest he come across as a meany-bucket. He can't patronize her or kill her with kindness because Todd might think the Senator's flirting with her and beat the hair plugs off him. No, he's got to play this just right. When the Repustules' successful strategy has been to set the bar so low that even krill would be pissed off if they inferred that anyone thought them unqualified to be elected to high office (see George W. Bush, 2000), one must tread carefully.
But in a world (Don LaFontaine, where are you when we need you?) where memories are short, attention spans are shorter and loyalty is determined by the most recently invoked knee-jerk response, you can bet that this next debate will be a humdinger of a show. And with apologies to genius writer David Lloyd: "A little song, a little dance, a little Hurricane Katrina, Iraq and the worst economic collapse since the Depression down your pants!" See you Thursday!