Thumb-pointing, Aqua Net addicted, Presidential-(used-to-be)-hopeful John Edwards, together with his strategists, decided that if they’re going to be “in it to win it” then they must employ the blogging help of a couple of anti-Christ, F-bomb droppin’ honeys to convince America that he’s mainstream and thus, our man.
The bloggers Juan hired to sway us common cattle into his fray are about as conventional as Jay Alexander and Crispin Glover. You can’t be more psychotically Left than these dual dames of derision. Don’t believe me? Then do this: stop what you’re doing and look all the way over to the left. I’m talkin’ way, way over yonder, and you’ll see Amanda Whoever and Melissa McSomebody typing like Lancelot Link, donned in Che Guevara T-shirts and cussing their butts off as they blame Bush, Christianity and Capitalism for Lincoln’s murder, JFK’s assassination, the plight of the manatee and all their hair problems.
I’m sorry; I’m being a jerk again. In all fairness, the lady bloggers, whom Edwards the Wannabe hired truly do represent that which is currently the norm . . . in hell. With their blasphemous, too gross to print invectives against Christianity, their conspiratorial mendacities that make a paranoid coke dealer seem well modulated and their constant “F you, you F-ing F-ers of F-land,” these two cynical sisters do symbolize the mainstream if the brook we’re talking about is the river Styx.
Who’d a thunk Edwards would have done something like hire two profane dames to do his PR? Like I’ve said previously about the left, you can’t make up the stuff they do.
Now, I could see something like hiring some heretical cheeky chicas coming from Kucinich. With that elfin-like, middle earth look, you just knew that if someone on the left were trying to broker some Faustian deal with el Diablo, it would be him. But, no. It was the Potsie Weber of the Presidential race who sought out blasphemous bloggers to make his backers bolt.In all honesty, I’m sorta glad Edwards went to the dark side for support, as now the race is getting interesting. I’d even go so far as to say, “Don’t cave in to the public pressure, John, by distancing yourself from these breasted bloggers who have the mouth of a stevedore and the soul of a heretic. If that’s you, dude, then embrace them. Don’t be ashamed. Go nuts and dive down the funnel. Commit and see what happens.”
As a matter of fact, here are a few suggestions to help flesh out your now seriously flailing attempt at the White House: 1. Get a wicked dog. Like an ill-tempered humongous Doberman. Or a black Wolf with green eyes. Name him Cerberus, feed him gunpowder, get the biggest spike collar your bloggers can find, take him everywhere you go and then let him run through the crowd!
2. Shave your head. That Wally Cleaver thing you’ve got going is so yesterday. I’d also shave your eyebrows off or . . . or shave them where they are angling down to make you look angry.
3. Have Marilyn Manson, Judas Priest and Boy George do all the music for your events.
4. Put Robert Mapplethorpe photos all over the venues and throughout the cities where you campaign. That’ll get the buzz going, eh?
5. Carve a tribal symbol into your forehead.
6. For fund raising, I’d have Rosie O’Donnell tour with you. She can drink jugs of chocolate milk for money. That would be crazy!
7. Lastly, have Damien from the Omen work the children for their parents’ votes. He could put that voodoo evil eye on them . . . you know what I mean?
John, let me help you, man. Looky here . . . when you pony up to try to become President in 2012 (because that little move cost you 2008), you’ve got to be more discreet with your affiliation with the Netherworld if you want to rise to power. Don’t you watch movies like the Devil’s Advocate and Bedazzled? You’ve gotta fly a little more under the radar. However, I wouldn’t get depressed. Rather, go back to the drawing board and give it the ole’ college try. You’ve got five years to fool us, so get back on that horse, fella—and better luck next time.
* This just in, one of the bloggers quit. I believe it was the Amanda whoever girl. That’s a shame. Just when it was getting good. Oh well, we’ve still got one bloggerette left. Type, baby, type!