Simon Moya-Smith outlines the current plot lines in the political show. If you’re feeling a bit more serious, you can read Steve Russell’s take on the debate. Right now, I’m thinking maybe weed and ice cream are the way to go. Yep.
Right now, somewhere in America, Anthony Weiner is taking another dick pic.
In New York, however, earlier today, I imagine Hillary Clinton was popping throat lozenges like a Vicodin addict, and Donald Trump was backstage pulling on his fingers because he’s convinced that if he does this twice daily for 30-minute intervals, his puny digits will stretch and the jokes will cease.
But he’s wrong. The jokes will never cease, and his fingers will never grow, and Clinton will keep on coughing for reasons unknown (to us, anyway), and Weiner will snap pic after pic after pic of his dick – because if there’s anything he loves more than sexting strangers it’s seeing his phallic name in headlines for doing so.
There’s been an overwhelming shared and looming sense of loss and fear in this country since Bernie Sanders dropped out of this rotten presidential race at the Democratic National Convention in July. How did the fracking lady and the reality television shill make it this far?
“How could it be that these two are the best America has to offer?” a man muttered into his Lefthand Milk Stout at a pub here in Denver recently. He looked like a sports fan who has lost all hope in his team. So I bought him another beer and said, “Hey, at least we’ve still got legal weed and ice cream, huh?” That cheered him up a bit, I think.
I was recently at a local pot dispensary on the west side where they’ve got tightly-rolled joints and edibles that would calm a rhino, or at minimum, Chris Christie.
But that’s another story for another day. About tonight’s debate: