Run Jim Run

That was a close one people. We almost had this election cycle without him. I know, I know, you’re saying to yourself “How could we have had a presidential election without HIM?” The simple answer is: we couldn’t. This whole enterprise was going to fall like a house of cards eventually.

The announcement was made yesterday and the party has just begun. The bunting is still being hung, cheese platters are being constructed, bands of questionable ability and provenance are tuning guitars, and crisply dressed college-age voters are sharing drinks and salutations.

Jim Gilmore has announced his candidacy for president.

“Who is Jim Gilmore?” you ask.

I have no fucking clue.

But make no mistake he’s the one we’ve been waiting for. The other 21 num-nuts running can’t do the job. Hilary Clinton was first lady and later the secretary of state. Pah! What kind of qualifications are they? Bernie Sanders has been in congress for 24 years. So? Lindsey Graham has been in congress for 20 years. Yeah, and?

Jim Gilmore used to be governor.

Of Virginia.

I’ll now quote from the Book of Republican, 8^th chapter, verses 5 and 6:

5 “And the day will come when he walks the land of strife and discord, and lo he will know he has been called. Called to be “the one”, the candidate to end all candidates, the lambda and the epsilon. 6 And he will heed the call of the stricken sheep and announce his presence with authority.

The celebration has started well and true. Mandy Patinkin is drunkenly singing “Over the Rainbow”. A conga line of elderly women are risking broken hips to dance up and down the street. Socially conscious teenagers are furiously scrolling Wikipedia to learn who this latest old white man is whose running for president. It’s a glorious day here in the United States of America.

Jim Gilmore is here to run the country and stay relevant, and he’s all out of relevance.

The Glaze of Truth

Ariana Grande is a mythical pixie in flesh form who sings unoriginal, derivative songs in a tone only schnauzers can hear. For reasons that elude me and cats throughout the world, some people like her music, enough so she was set to head a concert in Pittsburg this weekend for Major League Baseball.

Yesterday a video surfaced of the lighter than hydrogen singer in a donut shop with her boyfriend, one of her back up dancers (unoriginal and derivative in romance as well). Ariana pretended to lick a donut that was on the counter. Then when an employee brought out a new tray of fresh donuts she said, “What the fuck is this? I hate Americans. I hate America.”

Hmmm. I don’t . . . I don’t know where to start. How . . . how do you explain . . . this?

If you don’t like donuts, GET OUT! This country does not need you. Donuts are sacred!

If you don’t like donuts, why are you in a donut shop? Surely there was some Shakespearian forest you could have been prancing around in with Puck and the sprites.

Why would you pretend to lick a donut? That innocent pastry did nothing to harm you. That sugary glaze was not meant for a mouth as bitter as yours, but as a sweet delight for a hard-working American. Joe the construction worker deserved that donut. Instead a mincing show pony ruined it.

When they brought out the tray of donuts why did you hiss at it like your boy-toy had just slid his finger in your ass? They weren’t going to hurt you. They’re donuts, not cobras.

My research says you were born in Boca Raton Florida which makes you an American. Self-loathing can be an enjoyable hobby, but most of us keep it quiet, we don’t announce it out loud to a camera,

Grande is no longer playing the baseball concert. She says it’s because she is recovering from having her wisdom teeth pulled.

(cough)(cough)bullshit(cough)  (cough)bullshit(cough)

The box of 10X sugar with a microphone has also apologized and explained she was just concerned about childhood obesity and she naïvely thought she could help by going to Dunkin Donuts, making out with someone on her payroll and then cursing 300,000,000 people.

Narcissism is great, huh?

First Impressions

With so many candidates running for president I thought it was about time I got a feel for what people thought of this motley crew of skin and plasma. So I pretended to do a series of man-on-the-street interviews. Here are the responses I believe I would have gotten if I had actually done said interviews.

Democratic candidates

Hillary Clinton—“Another Clinton? God help us.”

Joe Biden—“He’s like a thousand years old, no.”

Bernie Sanders—a very small group of people-“Woohoo!” The rest of the country-“I. Don’t. Think. So.”

Martin O’Malley—people who live in Maryland-“Uh, no.” The rest of the country-“Who?”

Republican candidates

Jeb Bush—“Wait, is he related to the other Bush’s? Aw, hell no!”

Ben Carson—“Hmm, he’s a neurosurgeon so he has to be smart. He said what? He compared people who voted for Obama to Nazis and thinks the affordable care act is worse than 9/11? Never mind.”

Ted Cruz—“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

Rand Paul—“We get our bourbon from Kentucky, not our presidents.”

Bobbie Jindal—“You can’t be serious.”

Donald Trump—“Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! That’s a good one. Donald Trump running for president. Ha! You got me.”

Chris Christie—“Oh I remember him, the idiot from New Jersey.”

Rick Perry—“Oh I remember him, the idiot from Texas.”

Scott Walker—“Oh I remember him, the idiot from Wisconsin.”

Mike Huckabee—“Oh I remember him, the idiot from Arkansas. No, not that idiot, the Republican one.”

Carly Fiorina— “Worst. CEO. Ever.”

Lindsay Graham—“I’ve heard the name, but I thought it was an actress on a soap opera.”

George Pataki —“I can’t vote for someone whose skin looks like it’s melting off his skull.”

Marco Rubio—“Is this the guy who sang Living la Vida Loca?”

Rick Santorum—“Ewwww.”

Lincoln Chafee—“If I never heard of Martin O’Malley what makes you think I’ve heard of Lakeland Chafing?”

Jim Webb—“This is getting silly.”

Bob Ehrlich—“Really, who are these people?”

Mark Everson—“Now you’re just making names up.”

Jim Gilmore—“This game stopped being fun 10 candidates ago.”

John Kasich —“I’m not playing anymore.”

Pete King—“Seriously, stop it.”