Even a casual observer of the Presidential campaign would have to acknowledge it looks more like a mud wrestling match between two unsavory characters then a civil debate examining issues relevant to America’s future. This isn’t theater its for real. Neither candidate rises to the stature one would or should expect of a person who will end up in the Oval Office. Hillary’s email deletions, personal server deceptions, Foundation’s pay for play wealth accumulation technique, manipulation of envy, mercurial positioning on issues, failures in Benghazi, Libya and congenital lying hardly rises to the level necessary for the most powerful job in the world. And Donald’s massive lack of self-control, bone-dry issue knowledge reservoir, often-incoherent rhetoric, lack of any ideological core, tissue paper thin sensitivity, inability to speak outside the realm of insult and exploitation of rage is no less disqualifying. Martin and Lewis would have made better choices.
So rather then try to convince ourselves that this whole affair will turn on reason or what’s best for the American people, lets select a President based on criteria as profound as the candidates.
I assume most of you are aware of the premise of a reality show called The Biggest Loser. A group of morbidly obsess people gather at a resort with a terrific fitness center. They weigh-in and spend a couple of months competing in various ways via workouts of every variety to see who loses the most weight. The person who loses the least weight as a percentage of their body weight is eliminated each week. Finally the biggest loser wins. Before a raucous audience the loser, like a football team running onto the field, bursts through a human size paper poster of their former obese self. The audience screams their approval. The now svelte winner (all the loose skin is tucked neatly under their cloths and hidden) stands as an example of all the self-control they had never mustered prior to their reality show participation. They win a bunch of money and some modicum of notoriety.
Along the path to massive weight loss each participant laments his or her personal demons, family traumas, embarrassment, bulling and uncontrolled food obsessions. Tears flow as beautifully sculpted trainers function as coaches, motivators and pop-psychologists. It’s reality T.V. at its best. Most of us can feel so damn superior to the poor miserable slobs we saw in week one. Our superiority is mollified in the final week by witnessing the success of participants.
Since we have two horrific presidential candidates whose positions, honesty and characters are at best troubling, I suggest we stop pretending this election is being decided based on rational thought, statesmanship, wisdom, the public good, common sense, issues or any uplifting concept for that matter. Why argue and pretend we have good choices based on what’s best for America? We have a couple of arrogant fakers. They don’t deserve the nobility of the democratic process. Let’s end the painful political theater of trying to make positive arguments to defend either loser. We find ourselves compromising our integrity by trying to defend the indefensible. Let’s select our next President using The Biggest Loser model with a twist.
I have noticed that both Hillary and Donald have done some plumping up over the last few months. Here’s my suggestion. Exploit this election as the realty show it already is. Lots of hype, lies, insincerity, corruption, feigned hurt, insults and highly crafted fantasy. So lets switch to The Biggest Gainer.
Unfortunately I just saw Mark Burnett’s remake of Ben Hur. Let’s put it this way. He should stick to Survivor and The Voice. It took great self-restraint to not walk out of the film after just the first half hour. Charlton Heston is rolling over in his grave. Eleven Oscars are slumping in their cases. Put Mark to work doing what he does best, producing reality shows It could be the biggest reality show of all time.
The Biggest Gainer realty election special will mesmerize the nation. Ten weeks of pure entertainment with two of the most repulsive characters an audience has ever seen. Step aside Kim and Catlyn/Bruce. Here comes Hillary and the Donald. The winner gets the biggest prize in the world. She or he will win access to the nuclear codes, Air Force One (even bigger then Trump’s jet, his hands and her lies) and fast track to a place in history. In both these cases that place might be as one of the worst to serve but who cares its publicity and power. That’s what sustains them.
Suspend the Electoral College until the public shows it can nominate worthy candidates. For the last seventy days of the campaign we thrive on ten weeks of Hillary and Donald competing for who can gain the most weight. They have already moved in that direction quite well. Their waistlines have been expanding like a bear preparing for the winter.
I realize that Hillary might have an edge because, prior to Bill’s current vegan fad, he was an expert on fast food consumption. You remember those big fat donuts and cheeseburgers he loved so much as he campaigned for his first term as President. He’d be Hillary’s fat on coach. Those stretchy pants suits can be let out and she can afford to buy new designer pants suits as the contest proceeds. After all she is no longer broke. Is it just me that notices that she dresses like Dr. Evil? But I digress. She might also try to employ Oprah. Talk about the ability to put on weight. How about if she adds Rosie to drive Donald nuts?
Donald could buy fast food joints in swing states for easy access. Plus with Chris Christy and Mike Huckabee on his side he’ll have two of the best weight gain advisors a future president could ever imagine. Donald will bring in Monica to add a little uncomfortable spice for Hillary to deal with. Of course wearing a blue dress with an odd stain on the front.
Each week they’d weigh-in at a televised event/press conference. They’d have to wear campaign shorts, the shorter the better to expose varicose veins, cackles and whale thighs. Their tees shirts need to be a bit tight fully exposing their growing tummies and sagging loose skin. We need to show the audience how successful the candidates have been the previous week. When they do mount the floor cow scale they’d be required to remove their tee shirts. Hillary would be allowed to wear a frumpy sports bra. Give the people who nominated these two what they deserve.
How about Jerry Springer, the perfect loyal Democrat, as host and nauseating provocateur?
We’d get two hours of exploitive hype before the crescendo moment when each hops or climbs up on the scale. We need to have a scale atop a platform at least twenty steps up off the stage to emphasize the herculean effort needed for each growing candidate to engage the stairs.
Lots of crude smack talk and primping, maybe some shoving and a head butt or two – great “reality”. T.V. That gets at the heart of the quality of these two candidates debate styles. Instead of three debates we’d have ten weekly events where both candidates would have to answer questions about how and why he or she will outgain the other. Questions worthy of a corrupt mainstream media. We’d have to be sure “journalist” from the Nation Inquirer would be allowed to ask questions. At least with them there is no delusion of real journalism. Donald would taunt her with shouts of “skinny bitch” and she’d bark back “you racist KKK Grand Dragon”.
No more pretending that issues have any bearing on who gets elected. If that were the case we would not have ended up with these two. Now we elect this president based on what really mattered to most primary voters. After all both nominees were selected by loons from the extremes on either end. We are reaping the rotten fruits of what our primary voters sowed.
Who could most efficiently employ the best fast food balance for maximum weight gain? Vexing questions representing inquiring voters. National security,freedom and prosperity are not the long suit of either candidate.
Whoever gains the most weight as a percentage of their current weight would emerge as victor in a worldwide T.V. finale extravaganza on November 8, 2016. What would have been a low turnout election dominated with boring talking heads would be transformed into the worlds most watched program in history. Of course there would be at least two hours of WWF Smackdown style hype before the final conclusive weigh-in. Build as much suspense as possible. Can you image the audience?
Of course not only would this be the best representation of the quality of the candidates, there is a distinct possibility that each would die of a massive heart attack before the finale and we’d be able to select better candidates.
All you cupcakes out there don’t get sensitive or offended. My blog is not a save space. Satire is still alive and kicking here. I don’t want anyone to actually die.
The winner would be deemed President Fat Bastard. Hail to the Bastard.
You have no idea how much more fun writing this little ditty has been than all the depressing crap I’ve had to witness and write about over the last eight years and particularly about this depressing campaign.
Orwell’s 1984 is a few years late but it is here my friends. If we don’t make an effort to laugh and relax, we’ll be consumed with the tragedy that has become of a noble representative experiment.