October 19, 2015
Due to the fact that within my dark soul lies buried a deep vein of self-loathing that has yet to be fully mined, I spent last Tuesday night watching the Democratic presidential debate in its entirety.
Even though CNN’s Anderson Cooper is an acolyte of the loathsome twat-monster Hillary Clinton, he proved an able debate moderator. Cooper hammered all five candidates as hard as I presume his boyfriend hammers him.
The entire event bore the strong taste of cardboard and only served to underscore Donald Trump’s nonpareil value as an entertainer.
I believe that democracy is a sham designed to prevent the proles from rioting by fostering the illusion that politicians actually give a flip about whether voters live or die after they”ve voted for them. A president’s importance is sorely overrated. The Federal Reserve Chairman is who actually runs the country, so a president’s job is largely symbolic”their chief role is to fool voters into connecting with them emotionally, even if it’s behind a wall of trained killers from the Secret Service.
Therefore, I decided to approach the debate as most voters would”by underplaying a candidate’s policy stances in favor of whether I can relate to them personally.
As my mind began drifting while each contender droned on like Charlie Brown’s faceless teacher, I found myself wondering which candidate I”d trust most to change my tire if I faced the misfortune of suffering a blowout along a lonely dark highway in the middle of the night.
Herewith are my assessments of each candidate’s debate performance as well as what I think they’d do if their vehicle were to approach mine as I lingered helplessly at roadside seeking assistance for my deflated tire.
I was unaware of this man’s existence before the debate, and my immediate impression was that he was the permanently addled victim of a head injury. He referred to himself as a “block of granite,” but his mien was that of someone who’d been hit in the skull with a block of granite.
If he were to encounter me at roadside with a flat tire, I suspect he”d stop and ask me what was wrong. He”d then hop back in his car promising to find a local Pep Boys and get me a new tire. Then he would get hopelessly lost, never to be seen again”not even by his family.
Webb is a former Marine with a sagging turkey neck who killed a Vietnamese man in Vietnam, then married a Vietnamese woman. He bitched through the entire debate about how he wasn”t receiving enough air time. To his credit, he mentioned poor whites in Appalachia among the groups who were suffering from the “wealth inequality” that Democrats are always vowing to remedy. When quizzed about climate change, he was the only contender who said he”d stick it to mega-polluters China and India rather than packing up and shipping America’s remaining industrial jobs overseas.
I suspect that if Webb were to roll up on me in his Humvee, he”d handily pull out a can of Fix-A-Flat, a hydraulic jack, and a battery-powered air pump and get the job done in under five minutes.
The former Baltimore mayor and Maryland governor is slicker than a bucket of AstroGlide and so reptilian you”d think that David Icke had created him in a laboratory. O”Malley’s voice cracked as he spoke of dealing with poor blacks in Baltimore. Like the other candidates, he acted as if the country’s main problem is that there are too many greedy rich people rather than too many stupid poor people. He mouthed the mantra, “We are a nation of immigrants” and had the moxie to insist that immigrants are strengthening the country rather than gnawing on its carcass.
If O”Malley were to see me standing at roadside with a flat tire, I suspect he”d use his speaker phone to call his crack dealer and tell him there’s a white boy stranded at roadside who needs to be robbed of his wallet and car to help nudge this great nation toward racial justice.