Willard Mittonicum Jackassticus Lannister Romney, Lord of the Robo-men, debated Barack Obama, President of the United States, before a crowd of nitwits, ne’er-do-wells, Richard Dreyfus impersonators, mildly unhappy women, short-term memory loss sufferers, and a kid named Jeremy at the Manhattan Clam Chowder Institute in Montauk on Tuesday.
This was their second debate. The first debate, in Denver, was something of a disaster for Obama. Bill Clinton had given him some terrible debate advice at the previous week’s Presidential Poker Game in the White House basement rumpus room. “Before ah whupped ol’ man Bush,” the ex-president declaimed, his mouth full of ranch dip, “ah et a whole turkey. You eatcha a WHOLE turkey, right before your debate, and you’ll tan ol’ Mitty’s ass. Also, don’t wear no underwear. It’ll make ya feel looser, think better.” Clinton liked to talk like a yokel because it infuriated Jimmy Carter and threw him off his game. Obama was skeptical of the turkey plan, but Clinton’s poker advice had been spot-on. Jimmy Carter bluffed constantly, and the robot with FDR’s brain NEVER bluffed. Obama decided that maybe Clinton’s debate tips were good, too. This was a mistake.
In Denver, he felt bloated and sluggish. Romney, on the other hand, was buzzing on doughnuts and the Red Bull that GOP chairman Rinse Pubis had been secretly slipping into his lemonade. The thin mountain air made Obama dizzy, but Romney, who had grown up in the craggy heights of the Utah Alps, reveled in it. He danced around the sleepy president. Democrats freaked out, and Romney climbed in the polls. MSNBC pundit Chris Matthews crapped his pants on live television. “Fighting Joe” Biden stanched the bleeding somewhat with his sound drubbing of reactionary teen hearthrob Paul Ryan in the subsequent vice-presidential debate, but it was important that Obama not suck in this crucial second contest.
The second debate started out well for Obama. He had taken a nap and watched some West Wing episodes in the afternoon, and he had eaten a light dinner. Romney, on the other hand, hadn’t slept, hopped up on Red Bull-infused lemonade. Backstage in Chowder Hall, Obama calmly ate celery sticks and sipped iced tea. Romney ate a dozen donuts and handfuls of No-Doz. He was sweating like Roy Scheider in All That Jazz. He hadn’t slept in three days, and his bespoke suit smelt faintly like pee.
The moderator for this debate was Candy Crowley, who was determined to rule with a firm hand, unlike previous moderator Jim Lehrer, who was whacked out of his mind on mushrooms and spent much of the debate singing Donovan songs. The Denver questions had come out of Jim Lehrer’s drug haze. The questions for Chowderfest came from the audience. This made Romney uncomfortable, since he didn’t like people.
The first question came from Jeremy, a nervous freshman from nearby Chowder Community College. He would later play the Brent Spiner scientist role in the 2018 remake of Independence Day. “What about jobs, Governor Romney?” Jeremy warbled. “Will I ever get a job or meet a girl? My mom’s boyfriend Todd says I can’t live in the basement forever, but I’m really only good at Magic: The Gathering and Todd says I can’t put that on my resume. What about jobs?”
“It’s great to be here at the Manhattan Clam Chowder Institute!” Romney exclaimed in enthusiastic, life-like tones. “Great question, Jimmy! Great question! I love chowder! I love America! I love democracy! Of course, the chowder I prefer is the rich, hearty chowder of the state where I was governor, a white chowder, if you will, which is of course superior to the darker chowder consumed here at the Manhattan Chowder Institute!” There were scattered boos from the audience. Romney continued, because he’s clueless like that. “A rich hearty white chowder like that which is preferred in the key swing state of New Hampshire! Hello New Hampshire! And also Florida, home to many old people who will be killed by Obama’s death panels! Job creators! Job creators! Never apologize! Never apologize!”
Candy Crowley scowled. “Mr. President, your response.”
“Half of that was lies, and the other half didn’t make any damn sense. Like his tax plan. Look. Governor Romney, if he has his way, would take us back to the dark chowder-less days of the Bush administration. When I took office, Jeremy, the Hearty Seaman canning plant right here in Montauk was on the verge of closing its doors. A plant that had supplied good American chowder for decades, and good middle class jobs–just couldn’t afford to compete with cheap Asian chowders. Laid off workers were leaping off of the cliffs, and into the sea. Now, the governor said fine, let it go bankrupt. We took a different approach. We gave the company a loan, let it get back on its feet. Saved the company, saved the jobs. Once again, Americans are filling their mouths with the salty tang of Hearty Seaman.”
Romney leaped from his stool. “Candy, Candy, Candy, you gotta let me resp…”
Candy Crowley scowled. “No. Sit down.”
In the audience, the Romney twins, Stagg and Flagg, balled up their soft little fists. How they wanted to punch Candy Crowley! Mitt Romney was flabbergasted. No one had said “no” to him since he was three years old. Mitt fumed with anger, and missed the next question, which was some whining about gas prices.
Romney disinterestedly spewed some boilerplate about coal for some reason. He blamed Obama for gas prices, as if there was a big dial in the White House that sets prices, and Obama had turned the dial up to 4.00 just to be a dick. It’s clear at this point that Romney’s basic strategy is to just be a rude-ass jerkwad. Surprisingly, this strategy did not work.
Next, a sad yuppie lady asks Romney what deductions he’s going to eliminate. List them. Be specific.
He doesn’t do that.
Obama continually hits Romney with some of the crazy crap he said during the GOP primary debates. Obama also points out that Romney’s only specifics are getting rid of Planned Parenthood and Big Bird, neither of which will save trillions of dollars. “Back when you were a big finance guy,” the President points out,” you wouldn’t have invested in a scheme that sketchy.” Romney explodes in a word salad of rage, like Nixon did when Kennedy called him a sweating filthy liar.
Next, Kathrine, a sad-eyed classmate of Jeremy’s, asks a question about workplace inequality. Jeremy has a crush on her, but she is unaware he is alive, even though he sits next to her in World Civ. Obama speaks movingly of his grandmother, and being raised by a single mom, and the Lily Ledbetter bill. Katherine gazes deeply into the president’s dark, soulful eyes and feels a longing she cannot express. There will NEVER be a better time than this night for Jeremy to haltingly ask her if she would like to get some coffee.
Romney breaks this beautiful moment by telling a confusing and creepy story about seeing topless women for the first time at a beach in France, when he was living there dodging the draft. Then he talks about belly dancers, and being elected governor, and how much money old Zebulon Romney made on whorehouses that served Union soldiers and later, railroad workers. He closes with some baffling talk about Trapper Keepers and “binders full of women.” Candy Crowley scowls and cuts him off.
A disappointed yuppie woman who looks like CJ from West Wing says “I’m a little disappointed that I didn’t get the Obama unicorn I was promised, but on the other hand, I remember the horrible taste of the shit sandwich that was the Bush administration. I’m afraid you’re a shit sandwich, too. Please tell me how you’re different from Bush. I don’t want another shit sandwich”
Romney was startled. His mages had cast powerful protective charms so that Bush’s name could not be mentioned in his presence, to prevent just such a circumstance as this. The charm was so powerful Bush himself could not even enter the city of Tampa during the GOP convention. Unfortunately for Romney, Obama was wearing the Charm Of Unmaking that the wizards at Las Alamos Counter-Ensorcelment Laboratory had crafted for FDR during World War II. The Charm deactivated all magic around the president. Even Hitler’s frost giants had been unable to pierce it. Romney stammered inarticulately about his differences with Bush. He would be tough on China. He was a Pats fan, not a Cowboys fan. He was a small businessman, came up through small business, unlike Bush, who was the son of a politician who inherited great wealth. Candy Crowley scowls and rolls her eyes.
Obama just laughs. “Look” he tells not-CJ. “The centerpiece of the governor’s campaign is deficit-exploding tax cuts, just like Bush. The only differences Romney has with Bush are things that actually make Romney WORSE than Bush. Big Bird. Planned Parenthood. The crazy-ass self deportation immigration nonsense. He’s basically Bush Extra Strength. It’s like going to Shit Subway and ordering a Shit Footlong and having them give you double cheese and double shit. He’s Shit Romney.” (Note: “Shit Romney” was the governor’s nickname at St. Albans School for Exceptionally Wealthy Boys).
The next question is for Obama. A big sad African American man tells Obama he is sad. He, too, had hoped for a unicorn. Obama reassures him, talking about ending the war in Iraq, middle class tax cuts, saving Detroit. Romney responds by talking about the deficit, and food stamps. NOTE: THE FIRST AND ONLY TIME ROMNEY MENTIONS FOOD STAMPS DURING THE DEBATE, IT IS WHEN HE IS TALKING TO A BLACK MAN. Truly, he has a gift.
Then, a Richard Dreyfus stunt-double asks a question about Libya and embassy security. Willard Romney, the sweating filthy liar, gets excited. He SO wants Obama’s Libya to be Jimmy Carter’s Iran! That would make him Reagan! He and Ryan have been really pushing this idea on the stump. It’s a little weird to hear Ryan talk about it, because in this analogy he would be Bush, doomed to become a single-term failure president, who gave birth to The Worst President of All Time. Logic isn’t really a strong suit for these guys. Romney launches into his You Are Jimmy Carter schtick, and Obama SHUTS HIM DOWN. He slams Romney for politicking the crisis, mentions his Rose Garden speech about the Libyan incident, and tells Romney politicizing it was offensive. Obama looks presidential, and Romney looks like a dick. Romney thinks he’s got Obama in a gotcha moment, and jabbers about Obama failing to mention terrorism for two weeks after the incident. His glee in a perceived foreign policy failure is palpable, and unseemly. Obama calmly let’s Romney hang himself. “Please proceed, governor,’ he tells Romney. Candy Crowley scowls, and tells Romney the president is right. The audience claps, and laughs at Romney. He slinks back to his corner. Romney is all Manson-eyed with Red Bull and sleep deprivation and late stage presidential campaign fatigue. He glares at Obama, and surreptitiously gobbles a handful of No-Doz. He will not be president.
In the audience, the Romney twins, Stagg and Flagg, begin to weep quietly. The older Romney boy, Tagg, tweets to his brother Kragg that he wants to punch the president in the nads. He misspells “punch,” “president,” “nads,” and “the.”
The final presidential debate is Monday at 9:00 PM, Eastern Time.
