Archive
10/15/08 - (2)
The Last Debate
Tonight, fartbag John McCain's Crooked-Talk Express Takes the stage, in the last of three debates With his rival candidate for President of the United States,
Staggers, clownlike, into the limelight, on concealed life support, Doing his damnedest to discredit wet-behind-the-ears Obama, In their verbal duel-to-the-do-or-die minstrel show.
The nation isn't anticipating knockout punches Like those thrown by Joe Louis, against Max Schmeling, in '38, Or the Aryan maverick whipping the Brown Bomber's "you know what."
Reeling from today's Dow Jones collapse, Most viewers would prefer seeing both enemies relax, kick back, Do a Dancing with the Stars routine with each other,
Something akin to Al Pacino's tango in Scent of a Woman (In this case, the blind leading the blind), Or sing an American Idol rendition of "Happy Days Are Here Again"
Or call a halt to the distortions, smears, vulgar innuendos, By doing a plantation-vernacular balcony love scene, With Mr. Tambo McCain, in drag and blackface, as swooning Juliet And Barack Hussein, in Marcel Marceau white grease paint, As a gay Mr. Bones Romeo, miming those famous lines "Wherefore art thou, fartbag?" and "Dat's all, folks!"
While the interlocutor, Massa Bob Schieffer, does all he can To keep the two actors from poisoning each other, Before either lapses into his malapropistic stump speech.
But barely halfway through the buffoonish olio, Both endmen take a topsy-turvy tumble from their platforms And pratfall into the audience, to thunderous applause,
Flat on their backs, deader than star-crossed lovers, As their understudies, Mr. Joe Bones and Ms. Sarah Tambo, Take their places on stage and hurl pies at each other.
10/15/08 - (2)
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