The post posted below was submitted to us immediately after the Democratic debate Wednesday night. The author, our Cynyc in New Hampshire, Farley Marsden, e-mailed his post to our Administrator. The Administrator takes full responsibility for not having Farley's insightful, if not hyperbolic post posted in a timely manner. To compensate to Farley for our error, we will not dispatch him to South Carolina for their Primary.
Democratic Dunces dance at Dartmouth
Hanover, NH Sept. 25, 2007: The Democratic candidates seeking the presidency met here tonight on the Dartmouth University campus for their seventh debate. Yes, a mere 15 weeks or so from the asinine quadrennial charade known as the Iowa Caucuses, we have already been subjected to seven debates without having a realistic, novel, creative idea regarding any of the serious, profound challenges facing our next president, produced by any of these contenders.
Tonight’s debate came in the aftermath of a weekend in which New York Senator, Hillary Clinton, appeared to have been anointed as her party’s candidate by everyone from The New York Times to Track and Field. If her general election candidacy is all but assured, why bother with debates? In good conscience, if everyone on the Democratic side knows at this point that they have a candidate and it is Hillary Clinton, they should be kind enough to inform the other characters that the game is over. Why should poor old Chris Dodd be out banging on doors in a futile fund raising effort? Let him go home; he and the other sorry cast of lightweights, featherweights and masturbates that shared the stage with Hillary.
If Hillary Clinton is the best her party can do, someone ought to locate Karen Harris, dust or off, and empower her to start the recount immediately.
Pundits and blowhards of every ilk were proclaiming prior to the debate that “Hillary wins if she does not loose”. They may have well as added “Tippacanoe and Tyler too.” She wins the debate if she does not loose the debate? Is this the point our political process has devolved to? Apparently so.
Her alleged “closest competitors”, greenhorn Illinois Senator Barak Obama and flash-in-the-pan (four years ago), one term former Senator from North Carolina, John Edwards, are remarkable only for how genuinely unremarkable they are . They are laughable.
While there exists that two-man tier of the laughable, there is a heavily populated mezzanine of the hopelessly, comically, unimaginable. And on a lodge of his own stands dark-horse, Joe Biden, six term Senator from Delaware. More people were in attendance at Dartmouth tonight than have ever lived in the state of Delaware. Be that as it may, Biden should be the Democratic candidate. He has somehow, oddly, in a strange sense morphed into a younger, more cosmetically surgically reconstructed version of Bob “It’s my turn, goddammit”, Dole.
So Hillary can coast from now until the Democratic Convention? Maybe. A cursory glance at the rest of the field will quickly prove why this may, in fact, be so.
Edwards and Obama possess collectively, about as much qualification to be President of the United States as do Brittany Spears and Starr Jones. Granted, Brittany would most likely bring Kim Jong Il and other despots to their respective knees with her “diplomatic” efforts, neither “Pretty” John nor “Not Black Enough” Barak, could find their way to the Larry Craig Memorial Men’s Room in St. Paul. The aforementioned Connecticut Senator, Chris Dodd, looks, sounds, and thinks more like someone’s Uncle Ned after a few belts at the local tavern, than the elected Leader of the Free World.
Few of us living in the lower 48 were aware that a brain could be frostbitten: alas, Former Alaska Senator Mike Gravel has demonstrably proven otherwise. Mike should go home, drink and recreationally whale his way into full blown senility.
Former Mayor of Cleveland, now Ohio Congressman Denis Kucinich. (Is that a sentence? Is this REALLY a candidate?) Denis should just go home to his double-wide in Sandusky. One has to reluctantly give him credit for balls but seriously, this ET look alike should save his resources, strength, and efforts to take his twenty-something year old wife home and infarct in bed with her.
Half of the famous Lou Costello, Bud Abbot comedy team, Abbot & Costello, is apparently alive, well and governing the great state of New Mexico. The former jack-off of all trades from the Clinton administration, Bill Richardson, appears to be utterly incapable of manning a hot-dog stand in Brooklyn let alone be commander in chief of the US of A. Does this guy have anyone around him who can candidly provide advice and counsel? Obviously, not. This bloated buffoon, Lou Costello impersonator, should at least change his name to Chico Quintana if he wants to run as the “Latino” candidate. He held every job in the Clinton administration from Secretary of Energy, United Nations Ambassador to Men’s Room Valet at the Blair House and deftly managed to fail abysmally at each. Stunningly, each failure brought him a promotion! He is at least consistent. He has somehow, at each debate, managed to appear more haggard, disheveled and constipated. We should all lobby for a national health care plan just so Bill can have a colonoscopy. Then, maybe, he can afford some shampoo, a haircut and a comb.
So it appears that we have Hillary, guffaw and all, to contend with. We can observe the odds swing to and fro in Las Vegas as the months slide by between now and the general election. Not so fast.
The idiotic, deluded citizens of Iowa and New Hampshire still have to venture out in sub zero temperatures with nothing but the promise of a beer,a brat and the chance to cast a futile vote on a January night before the actual process of elimination can begin. It remains vitally important to the cohesiveness, if not the actual strength of our Union, to allow the obese, dimwitted Iowans and New Hampshirites to go through their much beloved ritual, to kick off this foregone conclusion.
While the manic Chris Matthews’ of the world spew spittle on their TelePrompTer's shouting the virtues of Hillary in oh-eight, we should sit back and wait for the surge; the inevitable yet universally un-thought-of surge that will begin in Rehobeth Beach, spread like wild fire to Smyrna and Dover cresting to elevate Delaware’s favorite son, former brain surgery patient, Joe Biden, to the position of noble standard bearer of the Democratic Party.
Post-note: Tavis Smiley is the mocha Tim Russert
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