There are truly frightening times to be a Democrat. We’re sort of at war, the economy sucks, and there’s a man with the IQ of a salad fork in the White House, threatening against all rational comprehension to be reelected. And it seems unlikely any of the current Democratic challengers will be able to suavely slip their tongue into the voting public’s ear the way Bill Clinton did in 1992. Some Democrats thought Howard Dean might be able to pull off the trick, until he slipped and accidentally stuck his tongue up Iowa’s ass on mistake, and now nobody trusts or even wants to think about where that tongue has been.

So what now? Thank God for Clark, right? If you can’t sweet talk your way into a girl’s panties, it never hurts to wow ‘em with a uniform, right? Chicks dig a man in uniform; it reminds us of being forcibly acquired by an invading army or something. It’s all genetic memory, hard to argue with that. So good, Clark can run for president, kick Bush in his National Guard-deserting ass, and then we won’t have to wonder if we’re watching Spitting Image or You Can’t Do that on Television every time we turn on a presidential speech. Cool.

(Though it is kind of funny to imagine W popping out of one of those lockers and telling a knock knock joke about Health Care.)

Not so fast. Turns out there’s the slight problem of Clark not having any political experience, and contradicting himself more often than Wayne Campbell. Oh, and the only state he won is Oklahoma, which is worse than losing Oklahoma. I’m serious, have you ever been there? I’d ask for a recount if I were Clark.

So the General is out. What about John Edwards? Good looking, smooth talker, former trial lawyer. Wait a minute, former trial lawyer? Jeez. He might as well be Jewish. No way Middle America is voting for this guy.

Now Democrats are riding high on the “FUCK, I DON’T KNOW. KERRY?” ticket because it’s so fun to see a Democrat winning all those states, almost as cool as seeing it in the actual election, only they don’t have that cool cartoon map with the states changing color. Even if he loses to Bush in November, we can always harken back fondly to that time Kerry kicked the shit out of New Mexico.

Not that John Kerry is a bad guy, I just haven’t been convinced he’s not already dead. You’ve got to admit it would be pretty embarrassing to nominate a dead man as the Democratic presidential candidate. We’d never hear the end of that. Just to be on the safe side, I’m going to go through a VHS copy of the Thriller video frame by frame to make sure Kerry wasn’t one of the zombies moonwalking in the background. He does look kind of familiar.

But Kerry should at least be able to challenge Bush on his military record, since apparently Kerry got mugged in Vietnam or something. Though if he does, he will run the risk of being totally ignored by the vile liberal media, which is so biased against Bush it has virtually ignored the fact that his entire tough-guy image is based on four years in the National Guard, which is the military equivalent of going to a party school and majoring in Sex Ed. Never mind that he never even bothered to show up for the fourth year, apparently too hung over to even be in the right state.

Perhaps the liberal media could relate to Bush’s slacker predicament, since they didn’t really feel like following up on the story after somebody on Bush’s staff “found” a scrap of paper stuck to the bottom of some army guy’s shoe. It was decided this proved Bush fulfilled all his military obligations against all other contradictory evidence, because somebody had written “W” somewhere on the paper. Either that or it was an “M,” nobody could tell because it’s hard to say which is the top edge of a piece of toilet paper.

So maybe Kerry should just drop the whole military angle and run on the platform that he’s seen death, and now knows no fear. That’s kinda cool, and he’s got the face to make it work. Hell, he could say he’s spent a weekend playing golf with death, I’d believe it. Though things could get a little dicey if Kerry bites the Prime Minister of Japan on the neck and eats out his brains or something down the road. Best to keep an eye out for that.

I Must be Wearing a Shirt that Says “Please Ruin Lord of the Rings For Me”
Here’s something that’ll get you thinking, talk about a “Mr. Rogers was a sniper in ‘Nam”-level surprise. Thanks to commune editor’s-brother Gay Bagel’s mandate that we boost commune readership and revenue up from absolute zero Kelvin in 2004, it’s been officially mandated from the powers obese that I quit writing about my epic saga to get a goddamned car.

Time to Renew Your Smut License
The latest hoopla is over these two college coaches who porked Lady Disgrace right out on the national stage. One had a thing for underage college girls, for the other it was strippers, but those are just two ends of the same Madonna/whore complex. Some would hesitate to compare seasoned professional strippers to the Virgin Mary, but they haven’t spent much time with underage college girls.

Astral Spies
Many have feared the observation of their innermost secrets by extra-terrestrials perched upon the moon, using telescopic devices. No doubt, several popular songs have been written on the subject. Extra-terrestrials on the moon? Well who do you think lives there, Smurfs? Don’t be crazy.

A Return to Niceness
Pundits have linked our present reality to a swan dive from the values of the Great Generation, though few have had the guts to tell those geezers that every generation calls itself that, even the flappers.