It's a Dog-Eat-Dog Election

Since almost everybody feels with conviction that if their man doesn’t win, life will cease to exist as we now know it, all I can say is, “It’s been nice knowing you.”

The campaign marathon has finally concluded, and just in time, before we all shoot ourselves. How much more of this can a country take? With billions of dollars spent, endless speeches, infinite requests for money, etc., the election has come down to a simple choice — do we want the fellow who drove with his dog on top of his car, or do we want the candidate who ate dog as a young child? The country seems to have gone to the dogs.     

There is little doubt our citizenry is divided. On the one hand, roughly 47 percent of the country (I just pulled that number from thin air because it seems to get a lot of attention) watch Fox News. These viewers, for the most part, believe the incumbent is an Islamist, Kenyan, socialist who wants to tax the rich into oblivion. They believe he is responsible for everything bad which has happened the past four years including the errant call by the NFL referees in the Seahawk/Packer game. They further believe his reelection will be a disaster of incalculable proportions and the earth might very well cease rotating around the sun if he is reelected.     

On the other hand, another 47 percent of the country (just love that number) watch MSNBC. These viewers, for the most part, truly believe the challenger is only interested in making the wealthy “stinking rich.” They feel if he is elected the rest of us will be told to eat cake. (I always liked cake so never quite understood why Marie Antoinette lost her head for that remark.) They are convinced he belongs to a cult and once elected will marry so many women, we will have a different first lady for each day of the year. They believe his election will bring devastation upon the earth which will make Armageddon look like a joke.    

The remaining 6 percent of the population don’t have a clue. They watch crocodiles eating wildebeests, “The Jersey Shore,” and believe Martin Sheen is president. In their hands our future lies.

Since almost everybody feels with conviction that if their man doesn’t win, life will cease to exist as we now know it, all I can say is, “It’s been nice knowing you.” There is probably no reason for me to write a column for next week since we will have all moved to another country. In the meantime, go out and vote if you haven’t already, and remember, if you vote at the Methodist Church, have a piece of chocolate on me.

Max November 06, 2012 at 05:21 PM
The perfect job for you: Presidential-Debate Instant-Replay Field Judge. You're uniquely qualified, given your background as a Malibu Pie Eating Contest Judge. If a candidate goes beyond the bounds of proper etiquette, you take over. Example, if the topic is health care and a candidate interrupts by saying, “Show us your stethoscope, smarty pants,” you'd jump onto the stage (wearing your stripped uniform), blow your whistle, throw a penalty flag (an old yellow rag), and point to the party at fault. The moderator would say, “The debate has been halted due to a possible infraction.” All eyes would be on you, starring into a TV replay monitor, with black shields for privacy. Then you'd flip a remote switch, announcing, “Upon further review, the nasty comment stands, since the audience chuckled. Please add 30 seconds to the clock.” The moderator describes the event, while 5 different slo-mo camera angles are shown. You'd rotate your arm in vertical circles, indicating that the debate resumes. Of course, if one candidate snatches the mic from the other, you would hop into view, blow your whistle, and, in this case, yell, “Yer outta here, pal!!” Then the debate would evolve into a monologue, with the surviving party allowed to sneer and gesture, as the guilty party is dragged off the stage. I can’t wait for the next debate, to hear the moderator say, “And, your referee, with over 30 years as a Pie Eating Contest Judge, is the honorable Burt Ross.”


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