The entire American political system is a boiling vat of French onion soup that is about to be violently thrown into the eyes of the voting public on November 8th. We’ll probably survive but we’ll be blindly meandering the scorched earth looking for the savior we thought Ken Bone was going to be, begging for change in hopes of buying a one way ticket to Canada.
Assuming the world doesn’t meet its fiery end at the hands of an angry meteorite, in what could only be the plot to Armageddon 2, we will have elected either Hillary Clinton or Donald Trump on election day. The metaphorical equivalent of choosing between Jeffrey Dahmer and Jerry Sandusky to babysit your kid.
Phone a friend
Our only hope is a fate arguably worse than the political equivalent of nuclear holocaust: third party candidates. John Oliver eviscerated the two nincompoop presidential elects representing the Libertarian and Green Party, respectively. Gary Johnson, the Libertarian party candidate has had well-documented run-ins with damn-near-impossible-riddles asked by those intellectual types in the biased media, like “what is Aleppo” and “name ANY world leader other than Barack Obama.” Uhh, I’d like to phone a friend, Regis.
But just for a second, imagine WHAT IF the Libertarian Party paraded around a pure-bred, well polished, consummate Washingtonian political type that could speak at least one iota more intellectually than those participating in Toastmasters at the Special Olympics? Instead they chose a dad-jean-wearing, second-lead in a Cialis commercial who’s entire platform is based on being allowed to sit at the big kids table with Hillary and Donald. That weird looking little dude from Stranger Things probably would have stricken more fear into Hillary and Donald, and even though this election is all but sewn up, don’t underestimate the most well constructed political parties not lead by David Duke.
Maybe, just maybe, if you stick your head far enough into the impressive pile of Triceratops feces from Jurassic Park that is our current political system, you’ll find a golden ticket that admits one to the promised land that is a 3rd fiddle political party. Sure, on the surface they might seem to be the equivalent of your senile grandmother cooking a banana in the microwave for dinner again, but if you squint really hard and drink to the point of alcohol poisoning your beer goggles might reveal a viable solution. So as our ADHD generation morphs the future of our country, don’t be afraid to stray from your grandpappy’s allegiance to Eisenhower. Forge your own path young man, woman or person who can pee in any bathroom they want (except in North Carolina.)
“She might just be the freak in the sheets you’ve been looking for.”
What I’m trying to say is don’t count out that “hard 4” at the cocktail party with the eyes that are way too close together who has been a fixture at the fondue station all night … she might just be the freak in the sheets you’ve been looking for.