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My Dream of The Next Debate   by Andy Peth

8/12/2015

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We all have dreams of how the next GOP Debate should go.  Here’s mine:

Moderator:  “Governor Walker, we’ll start with you.  Please describe what it’s like to be so boring.”

Walker:  “Well, it would take a while...can I have extra time?”

Moderator:  “No you cannot.  Senator Rubio, can you explain why Governor Walker is so boring?”

Rubio:  “Well, it would take a while...”

Moderator:  “Please, take all the time you need.”

Rubio:  “Okay, for starters—” (cell phone rings) “Excuse me…Honey, now’s not a good—what?  You what?  But…but…wait, how much?  Okay, thanks.”  (he hangs up)  “Uh…I’m afraid I have to drop out…I was just sold…to Donald Trump.” 

(Rubio bows his head and sheepishly begins walking off stage.  Trump grins wickedly)

Trump:  “Sheesh, I’ve paid more for a good suit.  Hey Marco, teach the missus to negotiate, okay?”

Rubio:  (turns back, without looking up)  “Yes.”

Trump:  “Yes?”

Rubio:  “Yes, Dark Lord Master.”

(long, awkward silence)

Trump:  “You may go.”

Rubio:  “Thank you, Dark Lord Master.”

(Rubio exits)

Walker:  (looking at Trump)  “You’re mean!”  (looking at audience)  “This makes me sad inside!”

Moderator:  “Thank you, Governor.  Senator Cruz, do you have any comment?”

Cruz:  “My concern is this:  How can Donald Trump be leading every GOP poll, when virtually no Republicans anywhere admit they support him?”

Trump:  “Human nature, pal.  No one admits what brings them the most pleasure.”

Cruz:  “So you’re saying—”

Trump:  “That’s right, pal.  I’m that shadowy side of you…the side you keep hidden…the side locked away in the dark chambers of your soul.” (he starts swiveling his hips, Elvis-style)  “Give in to the Dark Side.”

Fiorina:  “Please stop that.”

Walker:  “I have a Dark Side?  Does it hurt?”  (looking at audience)  “This makes me sad inside!”

Fiorina:  “Seriously, ewww.  Just…ewww.”

Trump:  “Is that you, Carly?  I hear you did well in the minors.  Had there been an audience, you could have gotten a slow clap.”

Paul:  “Are you people finished?  ‘Cause I have something I want to say!”

Christie:  “Here it comes…”

Paul:  “Chris Christie is a warmongering, liberty-killing fascist!  And he has drones following me around!”

Trump:  “Actually, those are mine.”

Christie:  “You know, Rand, you can blow hot air about these things when you’re sitting in a subcommittee, or smokin’ weed in a college dorm—”

Paul:  “What makes you think I smoke weed?” 

Christie:  “—or playing on that swingset in the park—”

Paul:  “What?”

Christie:  “—or sitting in your Mommy’s lap while she reads to you about unicorns and pixie dust—”

Paul:  “Get to the point!”

Christie:  “Sure…what was the topic?”

Paul:  “You tell me, General Patton!”

Christie:  “Doesn’t matter, hippie!  You sixties rejects infuriate me!”

Carson:  “Can…I…help?”

Christie:  “Sure!  Make John Lennon here take a shower!  He smells like Panama!”

Carson:  “Notice…the…slow…rhythmic…pace…of…my…voice…”

Christie:  “What?  What’s happening?”

Carson:  “You…feel…calm…”

Christie:  “I feel calm.”

Carson:  “You…feel…happy…”

Christie:  “Mommy, is that you?  Can I take Skippy and go play in the river?”

Carson:  “You…feel…regret…”

Christie:  “No Skippy!  Don’t try to save me!  Stay away from the waterfall!” 

Carson:  “Express…your…sadness…”

Christie:  (sniffling) “Oh Skippy, why did you have to be so brave?”

Carson:  “…through…dance…”

(Christie starts dancing about, mournfully)

Trump:  “Weak-minded fool!  Only a pushover could fall for this!”

(Bush is dancing about)

Trump:  “Your Jedi mind tricks won’t work on me, boy!”

Carson:  “These…are…not…the…droids…you’re…looking…for…"

Trump:  “Of course they’re not!  Why am I writing you this check?”

Walker:  “Umm…is this all performance art?  Am I supposed to understand this?”

Paul:  “It would take a lot of weed…soothing, beautiful weed…”

Walker:  “That’s not fair!  I’m too boring to smoke weed!”

Fiorina:  “I…I can’t take this.  I’m surrounded by idiots.”

Jindal:  “No you aren’t!  We’re arranged in a straight line—”

Fiorina:  “Bobby, not you too—”

Jindal:  “—unless, of course, you’re speaking globally…then you’re surrounded…do you want one of Rand’s brownies?  I can hear colors!”

Fiorina:  “You imbeciles!  You all realize the Moderator left, don’t you?”

Walker:  “Did I do that?  I’m sorry.”

Paul:  (looking in his pocket)  “Oh weed, you’re the only one who understands me.  Soon, my friend.  We’ll be together soon…”

Trump:  “Ha!  The moderator left because she can’t take the truth!”  (he resumes swiveling his hips)

Cruz:  “Haven’t you ever heard of purity?  Integrity?  Honor?”

Trump:  “Do those sell?  Maybe I’ll borrow yours sometime.”

Fiorina:  “Ewwwwww!!!”

Trump:  “Quit complaining, sweetheart.  Sheesh, you remind me of whoever my current wife is.”

Fiorina:  “That’s it!”  (she storms off stage)

Cruz:  “Yep, I’ve had enough!”  (he storms off)

Paul:  “Yeah, I need some alone time!”  (he races off, happily)

(nearly everyone else walks off as well)

Trump:  “Another flawless debate.  Not a single policy detail.  If loving me is wrong, I’ll do it anyway!” 

(he struts off the stage)

(Alone, off to one side, Walker looks forward with a confused expression.  Slowly, his hips start to swivel)

Walker:  “No!  Make it stop!  Oh, why is the Dark Side so seductive?!”


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Debate Tips   by Andy Peth

8/5/2015

0 Comments

 
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With the opening GOP debates set, I met with all the candidates, giving them some messaging advice.

Me:  “Alright everybody, tomorrow’s a big night.  Before I begin, are there any questions or comments?”

(hand goes up)

Me:  “Yes Senator Graham, we already know you stand with John McCain.”

(hand goes down)

Me:  “As you’re all aware, two opening night debates are being held.  Selected through recent polling, the Top 10—heretofore known as ‘The A Team’—will square off at our main debate stage.  The Bottom 7—heretofore known as ‘The Pointless College Discussion Group’—will meet in a more informal setting, at a nearby Hardees.”

(several hands go up)

Me:  “No, we’re not buying.”

(hands go down)

Me:  “All members of The Pointless College Discussion Group will earn college credit—”

Pataki:  “Transferrable?”

Me:  “—with the victor going on to dress like a court jester, entertaining at a banquet honoring the A Team—”

Trump:  “I enjoy jugglers.  Jugglers please me.”

Me:  “—and juggling skills will boost your score.  As for the Discussion Group losers, they will go to work for a diner in some nondescript Kansas town, hoping to be discovered when a Hollywood producer’s limo breaks down outside.”

Pataki:  “So we all get jobs then.”

Me:  “Moving on, I advise everyone to stop attacking the occupational backgrounds of opponents.  Governors, stop bashing Senators for lacking ‘Executive Experience.’  Senators, stop bashing Governors for lacking ‘Foreign Policy Experience.’  Neurosurgeons, stop insinuating your skills are so unique, since really, anyone can separate Siamese Twins—though survival rates may vary.”

“I separated Siamese…quintuplets!”

Me:  “No you didn’t, Governor Gilmore.  There’s no such thing.”

Gilmore:  “But—”

Me:  “Please stop trying to get noticed.  No one will ever notice you.  You’re Jim freaking Gilmore—”

Gilmore:  “—but—”

Me:  “—I’m talking to you right now, and even I don’t notice you—”

Gilmore:  “—but—”

Me:  “Does anyone notice former Governor Gilmore?”

(hand goes up)

Me:  “That’s your own hand, Governor.”

(hand goes down)

Me:  “Look, experience is important, but General Election voters don’t care.  To them, only your views matter, not your experience.  You know why?  Because your experience governs your past, but your views will govern their future.  Comparing experience is no more effective than talking about your family—and voters care about them as much as I care about stick figure families on SUV’s.”

Two voices, simultaneously:  “But I love my family!  Everyone else here hates their families!  Vote Huck-torum, 2016!”

Me:  “Okay, that was just eerie…”

Rubio:  “My family has an inspirational story!”

Everyone:  “Shut up!”

Me:  “People, Republicans have a problem.  Thanks to academia, the media, and the entertainment industry, most citizens are convinced we’re the bad guys.  So Republicans aren’t interested in how well you sell yourself; but rather, how well you sell us—changing common misperceptions about Conservatives.  Buzzwords like ‘experience,’ ‘leadership,’ and ‘great family’ sell you, but not us.  That’s why our eyes glaze over when we hear them.”

“Explaining the compassion of capitalism sells us.  Explaining how a job is created, why religious freedom matters, how gun rights save lives, or how school choice empowers low-income families—sells us.  We’re not seeking more rah-rah speeches about standing on principle.  Those are great, but they’re not enough.  We need someone who can convince Americans to join us in standing on principle.”

Christie:  “You want an image consultant for the Party.  Isn’t that asking a bit much?”

Me:  “Not at all.  If you sell yourself but fail to sell us, we become one big anchor around your neck, dragging you down in the General Election.  You can’t win if we’re still the bad guys.  Got it?  (nodding heads)  Okay, moving on, I want everyone to think first before discussing Donald Trump—”

Trump:  “I never do!”

Me:  “—or Rand Paul.  These two are broadening our audience, allowing us to preach far beyond our normal choir.  So remember:  Disagreeing with them is fine, but if you mock them, you mock the millions tuning in solely because they’re here.  Just keep that in—”

Graham:  “Rand Paul is the devil!”

Me:  “Okay, that’s the kind of thing we don’t need—”

Graham:  “John McCain!”

Fiorina:  “Will you please shut up?!”

Graham:  “I’ve got as much right to speak as you!”

Fiorina:   “No you don’t!  I can’t take this anymore!  I get standing ovations everywhere I speak, but I’m stuck in a Pointless College Discussion Group…and everyone thinks I’m running for Vice President!”

Gilmore:  “Need a running mate?”

Fiorina:  “I hate you all.”

Me:  “Getting back to Donald and Rand, it’s equally important for them to avoid attacks on others.  For instance, Rand shouldn’t treat everyone like bloodthirsty warmongers.” 

Paul:  “But they are!”

Me:  “No they aren’t, Rand.  And Donald, don’t mock everyone for not being Donald.”

Trump:  “But they aren’t!”

Me:  “Grrrrr…unity, people.  We need unity, or we’re sunk.  You know, just once, I wish a candidate would say the following:

‘Everyone on this stage supports liberty.  We may disagree over how to defend it or advance it politically, but we’re united by liberty itself—and together, we’ll work to bring healing and solutions to a nation in need of both.  I’m competing for the right to lead this effort, but whether I win or lose, I’ll support it with all my strength; and I challenge everyone here to do the same.’

Waddya think?  This would unite us, while welcoming those who normally ignore Republican debates.”

(prolonged silence)

Trump:  “Bow to me, worthless mortals!”

Cruz:  “You heard him!  He started it!  He’s just like Mitch McConnell!”

Everyone:  “Yeah!  He’s the problem here!  Harrumph!  Harrumph!  Kill the beast!  Kill the beast!” 

Bush:  “Yeah!  Attack the guy who isn’t me!”

Paul:  “Warmongers!  You’re all warmongers!”

Huck-torum:  “We’ll take him down together!  Wonder Twin powers, activate!”

Graham:  “John McCain!”

Me:  “Enough!  I give up!  If fighting is all you want, let’s just…just…film a Claymation battle between Donald Trump’s and Rand Paul’s hair!”

Paul:  “What’s wrong with my—”

Walker:  “Seriously, I would watch that.”

Me:  “Yes!  Yes!  It could range about—like the swordfight from ‘Princess Bride’—and we’d show it on one side of the screen while you all debate on the other.  Sound good?  Americans everywhere will ignore your bickering, fixing their eyes on 'The Wave versus The Curls,' with Marco Rubio’s never-changing Helmet of Youth lurking in the wings!”

Rubio:  “Hey—”

Me:  “And speaking of helmets, let’s replace Megyn Kelly with a 4-foot-tall moderator who is dressed like Dark Helmet from ‘Spaceballs!’  Would this make you happy?  Would it?”

Walker:  “Seriously, I would watch that.”

Gilmore:  “Can I play Dark Helmet?” 

Me:  “Alright, if no one has anything else, I want to wish you all a good meltdown.  From where I sit, tomorrow’s catfight will shipwreck several careers, so try—just try—to implode with dignity.  Try to take only yourself down—not the rest of us.  Can you do that?”

Everyone:  “No!”



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