Let the Race Begin

During a presidential campaign joke writers are pretty much obligated to poke fun at the big race. To make matters worse for me, I majored in Political Science. (If you plan to get away with spending four years partying and chasing girls--you pretty much have to pick a major. It looks bad if you don't). Even so, to be honest, I don't find politics particularly interesting-- "entrust me with the Presidency and I'll bla bla bla . . ." It's an old cliche, but those passionate campaign promises tend to disappear faster than Kevin Bacon.

I think some of my apathy toward presidential politics stems from my paranoid belief that we're all gonna go up in smoke one of these next days anyway, so what difference does it make who the President is? We'll be sitting there in Heaven and some cherub will lean over to buddy and ask, "y'know I was trying to remember who the President was when the Earth caught on fire?" The other angel will scratch his halo and say, "Hmm, y'know I'm drawing a blank, I wanna say . . . Dole."

During the whole "Jew-bilee" you may have heard something about the selection of a running mate. By carefully selecting a Vice Presidential candidate, the Parties strive to "balance the ticket"--thus strengthening their geographical or demographic appeal. Rather than bore you with more of this technical stuff that I learned in college, a more simple illustration of the concept of "balancing the ticket" is offered by the Republican choice for a Vice presidential candidate. You see, they already had a Bush--so they went out and got themselves a Dick. The idea is to cover as many bases as possible. "A Dick in the hand is worth two Bushes . . ." I forget how it goes, but you get what I'm driving at. (I'll go over the Democrat's strategy in a minute--if I feel like it).

It looks like this election might be half-way interesting because both Presidential hopefuls appear to be strong enough to make a decent race out of it. However, both candidates face some pretty tricky Catch 22's. Bush's challenge will be to convince voters that he didn't buy the Presidency, even as he's laying out the cash to do it. And Gore has to convince us that he's not a "big stiff," while at the same time reassuring us that he won't get one every time he smells perfume in the Oval Office.

Speaking of which it seems the Democrats are desperately trying to keep Clinton as far out of the picture as they can--but he just can't help himself. It's like trying to keep a rat out of the Cider House. The poor guy just wants to feel our pain one more time. Actually, the buzz in Hollywood is that Clinton will soon become the president of the big Hollywood movie studio "Dreamworks." Trust Clinton to turn the Presidency into a stepping stone to the really cool jobs. What a great gig for old Billy, though, "Come on ladies, make a movie with Dreamworks--I'm gonna put the couch back in casting." (That's the little pitch slogan he's got worked up). "Hollywood, that's right baby, and if Hollywon't, Mollywill. I love this place, I'm gonna put the couch back in casting. Yessir. Yessirree Bubba." Is any of this funny? It's hard for me to tell any more.

Even though Gore's charm is his "no nonsense" kind-of-guy approach, his campaign people are desperately trying to "cool him up." What we didn't see, as Gore graciously basked in the adulation of the crowd after his big speech at the convention, was that his TelePrompTer was flashing in big letters. Do Not Dance. Do Not Dance. Anyone discovered with a Fleetwood Mac CD in their possession at the convention would've no doubt been roughed-up and tossed out by a half dozen goons.

Gore's got the Bush people running scared though--they're losing ground in the polls and there's all this talk of "debates." The last the thing the Republicans want is all this public debating--Bush isn't known for thinking well on his feet. They're out ahead and the last thing they want is surprises. They're like a football team with possession of the ball and a 3 point lead late in the 4th quarter-- "take the snap and hit the dirt, George. Take a knee." George is cocky though--eventually he'll call a "time out" and throw long. "I'll toss that baby all the way to . . . what's the name of that State next to us?"

For the sake of knowing just a little bit about what I'm making fun of, I tuned into the last night of the Democratic convention. I saw Tipper's little slide show and listened to Al's speech. Even though his heart-felt oration was laced with a fair amount of bullshit, I'll have to admit I like Al. He seems like a decent man, and I suppose it's possible that he made it through college in the 60's without inhaling anything we need to worry about.

It was a pretty good speech, I guess--he managed to touch upon just about every human concern imaginable. "There are good, hard working Americans out there, who might've left a few bananas in the kitchen for a few days too long. And, through no fault of their own, they wind up with 4 or 5 of those nasty little fruit flies flitting around--you know the one's I mean--they're gross. I can't honestly say that I know where they come from, but if you entrust me with the Presidency, I can promise you that I'll find out and put a stop to it."

As they dropped the balloons after Gore's acceptance speech--for some reason I flashed on that classic scene from the movie Carrie, where just after they crown Sissy Spacek Prom Queen--John Travolta pours a bucket of pig blood on her head from the rafters. My twisted little Boneman brain couldn't help but envision Bush raising his hands in glory after his big acceptance speech, only to have a bunch of white powder poured on his head. Are you with me? He starts snorting it like a mad man and throwing things around with his mind--everybody scrambles for the exits. Of course the Republicans would retaliate in an even more cruel fashion and when Joe Lieberman finishes his convention speech they drop a huge bundle of twenties on his head. Naturally he drops to his knees, frantically stuffing the bills down his shirt, and won't be subdued until well after his staffers drag him from the stage screaming.

That's my cheap Jew joke--I know absolutely nothing about this man, but I can tell you one thing about him--he's a Jew. And I'll tell you something about the man he's up against, Bush's running mate, Dick Chaney, he's not a Jew. Not a Jew at all--or they would have said something. Actually, I find it somewhat belittling that they're making such a big deal out of it. I mean give us a little credit--we're all grown-ups here. Besides, everybody knows that George Washington was a Jew. And he was the Father of our Constitution. It's like they take us for a bunch of idiots.