Negative Nancy Runs for Office

We only have a week before the national nightmare of this election cycle will be over. I should be breathing easier. Seven short days and we get at least a few months before the 2020 cycle begins. And yet I can’t relax. I’m so tired, like my blood has been replaced by Gummi bears.

I was writing a lot about the candidates during the primaries but I got lost in the swamp of stupidity and arrogance. It took me a long time to climb my way back out into the sunlight. And yet the sun isn’t as bright as it should be. Every day I’m battered by commercials on radio and television about this candidate or the other one. And it’s not just the presidential race, its state campaigns.

“Bill Fenstermacher eats pickles in bed!”

“Jane Woebegone makes cat videos in her attic!”

“Clancy Chigger voted against new hats for railroad conductors!”

“Bill Fenstermacher used to work as a carnival freak called ‘Billy the Goat Boy’!”

“Diane Loosescrew wants to tax your toe nail clippings!”

“Jane Woebegone shops at Target with your tax payer money!”

“Clancy Chigger knows what you need . . . because he’s a stalker!”

“Diane Loosescrew has an ingrown nose hair. She’ll never survive a full term!”

All day, every day, it’s a bloodbath of negativity splashed across my face. I grab a towel to wipe it away but it smears like melted chocolate until my whole head is covered in electoral slime.

“Larry Bungle sold crystal meth to panda bears!”

“Francine Fuss wants to give our jobs to migrant ornithologists!”

“Larry Bungle and his brother Harry share 1 pair of socks!”

“Francine Fuss feels fairly fine with festering fish fouling fresh water!”

Make it stop! It sticks to my skin and won’t wash off. All the yelling and name calling and lies and acting . . .

“Did you know Harold Megawealthyman bought his position as county lunatic?”

“Sarah Hatespeople wants to force us all to love pumpkin spice!”

Voter down! Voter down! I need platforms and policy papers. I need voting records and plans for strengthening infrastructure. Stop the insults! Stop lying! Stop with the fear-mongering! Dorothy? Dorothy, where’s Toto? We have to get home! The flying monkeys are coming, click your heels together!!!

Another One Bites the Dust

Another presidential candidate has bitten the dust. Bobby Jindal ended his bid for the republican nomination.

Bobby Jindal. Do you know who I’m talking about? Governor of Louisiana. Indian descent. Will use any political talking point to get attention but never actually DO anything.

It’s not surprising you can’t place him. He was polling just behind a garden rake from Tuscaloosa that was running on a platform of branding leaf blowers as terrorists.

During the debates Bobby was like the last child seated at the kid’s dinner table at Thanksgiving. He was that cousin that no one really knew because the family lived 2000 miles away and only visited over the Holidays. The kid that used the mashed potatoes as paste to glue his turkey and ham together in an abominable hybrid of two beloved meats and then smiled with palpable evil as he flung it at the 16 year old daughter of the host who just missed making the cut for the adult’s table. If only great Aunt Lorraine hadn’t shown up at the last minute.

This was Bobby Jindal. The desperate wanna-be, the never-was, never-had-a-chance, the why-bother money-waster, the time-stealer, the zero-excitement-generating no-new-ideas-bringing no one listens when he talks dictionary definition of just one more politician with no self-awareness.

Bobby Jindal whose campaign slogan could have been:

Bobby Jindal: I’m a Real Person!

Bobby Jindal, who, while talking to any crowd, always had a look on his face that said “Is this mike on?”

Bobby Jindal, who announced his candidacy by surreptitiously filming his family’s befuddled reaction when he told them he was running and then showed it to the world like he was Ashton Kutcher punking his own children. Parenting with a twist of assholishness.

To the 811 people who were supporting Bobby’s run, seek help immediately. You have deep, troubling problems that can only be solved with group therapy and pharmaceutical grade hallucinogens. Godspeed.

Bye bye Bobby.

Following the Crowd

I realized the other day that I may be the only person left in the world that doesn’t have his own podcast and is also not running for president in 2016. I’m not sure what this means about myself. Am I lazy? Not ambitious enough? Don’t care?

If I had a podcast what would my subject be? My love of cream-filled donuts? I don’t know if I can fill an hour a week about donuts. Who would my guests be, the Dunkin Donuts lady?

“Good afternoon. Today I welcome Mindy Nussbaum, donut chef at Dunkin Donuts store #435 in charge of glazed, sprinkles and crullers.”

Once we got past the fact that she has a dream job though, I’m not sure where that interview goes. Each week I would need another guest. They would get progressively worse until around week 8 where it would be just me drooling in a sugar coma after eating a half dozen angel creams.

About running for president, I guess this would be the year to do it. There are already 119 candidates combined with the two parties and that doesn’t even count the fringe parties like communist, libertarian, Duck Dynasty enthusiasts, Duggar apologists, the Hipster Beard party and Johnny Depp in his worst role yet.

And let’s not forget that all proclaimed candidates suck. I may be the breath of fresh air this country needs. Well, maybe not fresh air. More like the slightly stale air that escapes when you open a closet door for the first time in months, which is still better than the “just down the road from the industrial pig farm” air that the other candidates are giving off.

So I guess if I want to conform I need to get the “Donut Hole in My Soul” podcast started and fill out the paperwork to declare as a candidate for president. I will be my own guest one week on the show so I can lob softball questions at myself about my campaign. I’ll lay out the tenets of my job creation program that is essentially building more donut factories. As podcast host I will warn myself about the health implications of this plan and as a presidential candidate I will speak eloquently for 20 minutes without coming close to the subject at hand. I will then kiss my own ass, sign off for the day and take a nap.