Faced with Campaign Failure, Bachmann Drives On

“Full power to the defector shield! PREPARE TO RAM BY GOD!”

If Bachmann was a Captain of a space ship, that ship would be battered, barely functioning, and plunging towards a gravity well (if she believed in gravity wells ),yet the brave Captain is doing her best to keep the ship sputtering forward, if only to launch one more  feeble salvo. Campaign staffers have abandoned ship by the score, not wanting their records tarnished when the ship finally goes down and the evil liberal pirates board with laser-cutlasses in their teeth. Poll numbers are sinking to dismal levels, despite the chief engineers best attempts at getting anymore power out of that cracked beryllium core. Campaign offices have been closed as her staff pulls back into the few decks not suffering explosive decompressions from the endless bombardment coming from all sides.

Resolute in her course, Bachmann stoically drives on. A space-reporter from space-CNN recently remarked to the Captain that her ship was doomed, her cause almost certainly lost. “Your assessment is completely inaccurate,” the captain retorted smugly. Physics be damned, every movie and every fiery sermon she had ever witnessed in her short political life told her that she would win in the end. Space-Jesus itself had anointed her with its noodley appendage, she is the chosen one, she is Keanu Reeves.

Perry’s Lone Star and Cain’s Pizza Disk fired another salvo as Romney’ Bland Boy and Obama’s CHANGE! Circled like vultures, ready to devour whoever survived the current fray. Cain and Perry’s corporate funded torpedoes slammed into the lower decks of Bachmann’s ship, sending crewmen flying across the bridge. A member of her remaining loyal crew, Bob Harris, whose job was to fuel the ship with its required supply of space dollars declared to his weary comrades, “Things go up and down week to week. I’m not worried.” Captain Bachmann took heart in the comment; everyone else was focused on Harris’ obvious head wound, his brain must be leaking out of his ears thought one crewman.

The majority of the remaining pollsters and political advisors took Harris’ comment in stride, immediately jumping into the few remaining life pods, launching themselves blindly into space in a desperate bid to retain their future employability.

“Numbers be damned,” the Captain thought. Her rival captains might have claimed to be Space-Jesus’ chosen, but she had heard the voice in her head herself. The safe haven of Planet Iowa looming at the edge of sensor range, tantalizingly close yet her ship’s forward progress suddenly decelerated into an abrupt halt, the tendrils of the gravity well had finally snared her. Just like the Captain’s relentless string of venomous insults she had hurled at the greater electorate had steeled the minds of those she had needed to sway. The gravitational field that entrapped her was solid, unbreakable, and utterly void of mercy.

Another round of torpedoes sent concussions through her dying ship. That salvo had been armed with tons of radioactive video tapes of some of the Captain’s crazier statements uttered during the opening battles of the campaign. Hull panels were ripped from the U.S.P Crazy and the bridge shuddered with a terrible sound of millions of secular people laughing. “I can’t lose!” the Captain might have thought desperately. “The voice told me I would not, that I could not! Space-Jesus never lies!”

As her ship passed through the event horizon of presidential hopes, she briefly came to the terrible conclusion that there was no space-Jesus, that she had been talking to herself all along. She thought briefly about all the ire and malice she had wrought over the long campaign and wondered, for the first time, if she was plain crazy.

“Naw!” she defiantly declared. She was the chosen one, reality be damned as her ship finally plunged over the event horizon of political fortunes and beyond which no careers has ever survived.

Captain Cain looked on, but there was no time to savior the victory. Perry was already launching attacks. The battle must go on.  As it always does for there must always be more blood for the Blood God.

(Source: The Hill)


  1. Kate from Iowa says

    Why the hell does she keep bothering us though? Can’t she point that wreckage back towards MN?

    • Jeremy Shaffer says

      Liesmith- Funny that you mention Warhammer 40K. I was thinking the description of Bachmann and her ship in the post reminded me of Ork technology (or “teknologee”, as they call it). Given that she rejects almost everything science shows, Bachmann’s space cruiser can only function on sheer belief powered by residual ignorance that it couldn’t work otherwise.

  2. arakasi says

    It depends. Does she have Scotty in her engine room? He’s a sneaky bastard – you know he’s got an extra 10% in reserve that he doesn’t break out until the Captain’s pissing her pants. In that case, there is no way she’s not going to win in the last 5 minutes

    Unless, of course, the Cain you mentioned above is Ciaphas Cain “HERO OF THE IMPERIUM”. In that case, all bets are off

  3. says

    agree on your points about the basics of wealth building. Being frugal is good,and we will obviously see the benefits of saving in the small picture analysis.

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