Goodbye, Mittens, Don't Forget To Write

"If a politician murders his mother, the first response of the press or of his opponents will likely be not that it was a terrible thing to do, but rather that in a statement made six years before he had gone on record as being opposed to matricide." ~ Meg Greenfield

"Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it." ~ Mark Twain

"Politics, n. A strife of interests masquerading as a contest of principles. The conduct of public affairs for private advantage." ~ Ambrose Bierce

"Every election is a sort of advance auction sale of stolen goods." ~ H.L. Mencken

"Popularity should be no scale for the election of politicians. If it would depend on popularity, Donald Duck and the Muppets would take seats in senate." ~ Orson Welles

"Hmmm... Kermit For President, Muppet Party 2016... has a nice ring to it." Kermit the Frog

At long, long last, it's over. The endless ordeal that was the 2012 US election campaign actually did reach an end last night, with President Obama scoring a narrow victory over Governor Mittens. The long road has reached its end, with crushing disappointment for one side, the jubilation of victory for the other, and already political minds and pundits talking about what's going to happen in 2016 (Yes, I know, just like you, I'd like to grab them all by the throat and yell "What's wrong with you?????").

This is, fortunately, the last in the line of election campaign blogs for me (at least until 2016!). If by chance you haven't seen it, check out our joint blog, where we had a Without A Word blog having fun of things yesterday.

Aside from the big campaign coming to an end, there were of course some other notable results. In Missouri, Claire McCaskill handed a defeat to Republican Todd Akin, the Senate hopeful who put his foot in his mouth some weeks ago by his complete ignorance of basic female anatomy and going on and on about "legitimate rape." And the states of Washington and Colorado made recreational users of marijuana very, very happy. Denver and Seattle are preparing for a massive influx of newcomers, who are going to put a lot of money into the local economies, particularly in the purchase of cheesies and chips.

As you can imagine, the pundits and comedians were already having a field day with the subject last night, and will for some time to come. For the rest of us, we're feeling something of a hangover.

Well, aside from Governor Mittens, who's not allowed to drink, though I'm sure right about now he'd like to... 

Rumor has it that Rush Limbaugh, Ann Coulter, and Glenn Beck all spontaneously combusted last night as the evening went on, though Darth Rupert does have their personalities on file to be downloaded into new clone bodies. Apparently spontaneous combustion happens quite often to these three; this is, by all reports, the two hundred ninety seventh time this has happened to Limbaugh.

The editorial cartoonists of the world have a lot to work with now...

Governor Mittens, however, has reached the end of the road. There are few second chances in America for presidential candidates, so he'll have to pack up and go home. Might be hard going back to Massachusetts, since they voted strongly against him... and so did his home state of Michigan.

Maybe it's time to go visit his money in overseas tax havens for the next few years. And look into changing his name. And growing a beard. Either that, or tell anyone who asks, "Oh, no, no relation at all, I just look like that guy."

For the President, on the other hand, well, he has a bit of time to bask in the victory. Sure, he has a Republican opposition in Congress still foaming at the mouth to undermine him at every step, and a fragile economy to treat with the greatest care....

President Obama, you might want to bask in the victory for no more than five hours. Six, at absolute most.

And whatever you do, make sure Biden doesn't say anything.

For the rest of us, we can breathe a sigh of relief. No more endless speeches, rhetoric, attack ads, and wall to wall coverage. It's been settled all in one night. Congratulations, America. We weren't sure if you had it in you to get it done that quickly. None of us wanted to watch a repeat of the debacle in 2000, after all...

Granted, of course... the pundits were already talking on a couple of the channels I checked out about possible contenders in 2016.  I know. I feel like unleashing the zombie plot bunnies on anyone who's already talking about next time.

Though rumor has it the Republicans are going to field country singer Toby Keith and motormouth Ann Coulter for the ticket next time out. With Ted Nugent becoming Secretary of State.

And so I leave you for the last time (barring any chance that last night was a dream and we're just all waking up right now to a massive dispute over what really happened that'll drag out for months to come) with the two candidates you should have voted for.

Hamish and Watson

Stumbling Towards The Finish Line

"Hell, I never vote for anybody. I always vote against." ~ W.C. Fields

"Those who are too smart to engage in politics are punished by being governed by those who are dumber." ~ Plato

"Politicians are people who, when they see light at the end of the tunnel, go out and buy some more tunnel." ~ John Quinton

"Don't vote, it only encourages them." ~ Billy Connolly

"Instead of giving a politician the keys to the city, it might be better just to change the locks." ~ Doug Larson

"And so we had decided that the second in line to the Chief Executive would be called the Vice-President, after dismissing other suggestions such as Junior President, Mini-Prez, and the Congressional Jester. And we were certain that the Vice-President would retain the dignity of  the office, and could be counted on to never lose his temper and go shoot someone. Though to be honest, I must admit we should keep an eye on that Aaron Burr. He does tend to get angry easily." ~ John Adams, 1802.

"Mr. President, the Vice-President shot a lawyer in the face." ~ Secret Service Agent, February 13th, 2006.

Well, all things come to an end, good and bad. And so here we are; tomorrow the elections take place south of the border. After what has been an endless ordeal of attack ads, primaries, conventions, and speeches for months on end, there'll finally be an end to it.

Unless the lawyers get involved and appeal everything.

Rumor has it that Dick Cheney, the former Vice-President and Dark Lord of the Sith, who has spent much of the last four years annoying President Obama at every opportunity, has decided to stay quiet this year and spend the day playing a game he hasn't played in quite a long time. Those of you who have read The Most Dangerous Game might know it. Obviously the lawyer he's invited up to his ranch has never read it.

Here at the end, the editorial cartoonists have been racing the clock, down to the wire, presenting their take on the madness that is an election campaign. And check out our joint page, where we're having fun with the theme in a Without A Word blog...

And it is madness. Particularly how the Republican party, in a number of key election battles, seem to have allowed themselves to be hijacked by lunatics who have a profoundly dim view of women (Todd Akin of Missouri, I'm speaking of you) or a complete disregard of basic scientific principles (sorry, Paul Broun, the Earth is in fact much, much older than just a few thousand years of age).

Governor Mittens has been busy fending off the fact checkers, working in vain to persuade voters he's not out of touch, and keeping The Sneer Incarnate (otherwise known as Paul Ryan) quiet.

Oh, and infuriated by a cranky hurricane that took the wind out of his sails while simultaneously wrecking havoc with the Eastern seaboard...

At every turn, President Obama and Governor Mittens have been jockeying for position in the last days leading up to the election. Hurricane Sandy did provide something of an unusual October Surprise (Stephen Colbert suggested that hurricanes may have a liberal bias), allowing the President a chance to be Presidential (even scoring bi-partisan credit with Republican New Jersey Governor Chris Christie, who months ago told GOP organizers to go away and leave him alone), whilst throwing a monkey wrench into the Mittens campaign... 

Tomorrow is the big day. We all know who this guy will be voting for...

Though in fairness, C. Montgomery is a much warmer guy than the Mittbot 2000.

With that, to my American friends, get out there and vote. Seriously, we're all counting on you not to let a repeat of the Florida debacle of 2000 to ever happen again. I leave you until next time (when this had better be settled) with one final thought.

The first pundit who utters the words dangled chads will be throttled.

Annoy A Mountie, He'll Hunt You To The Grave

Alberta; an RCMP detachment in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Each member of the detachment are gathered together in a large conference room. A camera is set up, and a large map of Canada is mounted on a wall. The room is being broadcast via the internet across the country to RCMP detachments, provincial police forces, and city forces. A door opens, and every Mountie in the room stands to attention as in walks Inspector Lars Ulrich, legendary Mountie and scourge of entertainment reporters. The inspector has been busy as of late, what with the recent kidnapping of Grover the Muppet by an old adversary, but he’s been lined up to give a crucial briefing to police across the country. He walks up to the podium, glares out at the assembled troop. “At ease,” he tells them. Everyone sits down. “We’re live?” he asks.

A nearby Mountie nods. “Coast to coast, Inspector.”

Ulrich pauses, looks at the camera. “I had thought of doing this briefing with a giant Canadian flag and giving a Patton-like speech, but I suspect the ghost of George C. Scott would have something to say about that. And unfortunately we haven’t been issued the tanks that I asked for. I suppose someone in the government doesn’t like me all that much, but I still firmly believe that the Mounties need armoured cavalry. Just as much as we need our own naval force, but that’s another issue for another time. Ladies and gentlemen, as you all know, we have a matter south of the border that may require our attention and vigilance in the days to come. The Americans are about to finally get around to their election. I know what you’re thinking, it’s been going on for months and months on end, seemingly without end. Hell, it sometimes feels like it’s been going on since the last election. Well, we have orders, and I’m here to brief you all in.”

The Inspector is silent for a long moment before continuing. “The election atmosphere south of the border has become hyper-partisan, to borrow a phrase, and the concern from Ottawa is that no matter who wins, we’ll see a flood of refugees coming north, trying to escape an election result they don’t like.” The Inspector points behind him to the map. “We’ve identified crucial spots across the border where illegal immigration may take place in the event of one person winning over another. I’ll take you through them now.” He steps away from the podium.

“The polls between Democrats and Republicans are chaotic, to say the least. There are two possible scenarios to play out, and first, the possibility that the President will not get re-elected. If that’s the case, we can expect hordes of Democrat voters to pour across the border and set up shop here for the next four years. Expect concentrations of such voters particularly in British Columbia. Our analysis suggests they’ll flock to Vancouver, where it’s easiest to find marijuana, and where the winter weather is most easily tolerated by Americans. Our border crossings in BC will have to be on the lookout in that eventuality, and we’ll have to make sure that Americans who say they’re just visiting are not bringing in their every worldly possession, trying to flee the idea of four years of being ruled with an iron fist by a guy named Mittens. Rumor has it that Michael Moore and all of his friends will be leading the charge north.”

The Inspector pauses again, looking out at the assembled Mounties. “Scenario Two. The Americans re-elect the President. This will of course infuriate the right wing, who have spent the last four years trying to undermine the President. We can expect many of them at the border crossings into Alberta, where they might feel at home among all the gun carrying local Albertans. At least that’s what they think. I wonder how they’ll feel getting to Calgary and finding out it has the most progressive mayor in the entire country. We’ll have to be on the lookout for them in that scenario. And we’ll have to confiscate their guns. Can’t have a bunch of Yanks running around carrying concealed weapons without a permit, after all.  That just wouldn’t do in the Great White North.”

The Inspector points behind him to the map, to the eastern reaches of the country. “We do have another area of concern. As you all know, there are many people on the Gulf Coast, calling themselves Cajuns. They are descended, of course, from the Acadians who were deported out of Canada at the time a couple of centuries back. They still have a culture influenced by French, and either way the election goes, we could have an influx of Cajuns coming north into Canada. If it’s a Romney victory, we can count on Louisiana Democrats infiltrating the borders into Quebec and New Brunswick primarily. Same goes for if it’s an Obama victory. Lots of Louisiana Republicans will come through the New England and Vermont borders looking to settle down in French speaking districts. I wonder if they realize how left of centre Quebec politics tends to be...”

The Inspector shakes his head. “Finally. One outstanding item, and all of you had best be on the lookout for it. Either way this goes, we’ll be in for a lot of work in the weeks and months to come, rousting out illegal immigrants, sorting out who’s a legitimate refugee. There may be infiltrators among them, and they’re the sort of person we have to kick out of the country first. I’m talking, of course, about entertainment reporters. I don’t want to see one of those idiots coming up unchallenged to my detachment asking me about whether or not I’ll be recording in the studio soon. Are they really that stupid, when I keep telling them I’m not a member of Metallica? You find these guys, you throw them on the first plane back to Los Angeles or New York. Better yet, you tape them with duct tape to the underside of the plane. Round about three or four kilometres up, the duct tape ought to give out, and they’ll have a very short and very fatal trip down to the ground. They deserve nothing less than to buy the farm that way, and really, no one’s going to miss an entertainment reporter.” He looks out at the Mounties in the room, stares at the camera. “You’ve got your orders. You all are the best police officers in the world, bar none. I’m proud to be one of you. Now, get to work. We’ve all got ourselves a hell of a lot to do, and we’ve got a reputation to uphold. And a bunch of entertainment reporters to smack around....”

A door opens, interrupting the Inspector in mid speech. In comes a rather dull-eyed man, followed by a cameraman. He’s carrying a mike with the markings of Access Hollywood on it. He looks around at everyone, confused, and walks up towards the podium. “Lars! Lars! Rick Roberts, Lars. I’m the exclusive Access Hollywood music reporter. A comment please! What everyone at home wants to know... will Metallica be allowing the producers of Glee to use their music?”

Ulrich sighs. “First question. What’s a Glee?”

“Oh, come on, Lars! Everyone knows Glee! Stop joking around, and just answer the...”

“Second question. Are you a good runner?”

“Well, no, I spend most of my time hyping things. Who has time for exercise when you're talking about Jennifer Aniston's wedding?”

The Inspector sneers. “In that case, I’ll be sporting and give you a ten second head start.”

“Head start for what?”

“For me to hunt you down like a rabid dog. Ten, nine, eight...”

“Is this serious? Lars, come on, just answer the question. What does Metallica think of...”

“I am not that Lars Ulrich, you bloody dimwit!!!”

“Are you sure?”

The Inspector clobbers him.