The State of Our Democracy

Since Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ was elected the Messiah by a jury of his peers nearly 6000 years ago, democracy has been one of the most valued institutions of civilized Christian societies, by which I mean the United States.

Tragically, control of our glorious and God-Fearing nation has been usurped by Caliph B. Hussein Obama, a most devious Moor from the darkest regions of the Maghreb; from his first day upon the Presidential throne, this bride of Allah has plotted and schemed to pack our shores with pagan worshipping barbarians and Oriental tourists.

It appears that a consortium of good and righteous men—and one woman—of These United States are at last taking note of this most egregious error and mounting a Glorious Crusade to win back the presidency from the clutches of evil.

However, the edicts of democracy clearly state that only one man, every election cycle, may rightfully challenge the reigning president to unarmed combat, as illustrated by the fictionalized recounting of President Taft’s rise to power in Mad Max: Beyond Thuderdome. The winner is crowned Lord of America, while the loser is roasted alive and portioned out to orphans at the Inaugural Ball—the meat of course being heavily poisoned.

It is thusly the job of the rich and powerful to dutifully choose their champion, and here, we will provide you, the stratospherically elite, with valuable insights so that you may pick the right man for the job:

M. Romney

13 - 3 vs. Southpaws

Little is known about this man and the customs of his people. My vast network of informants has assured me that he is what is known as a "Mormon". A nomadic tribal people from the Western States, the Mormons remain reclusive and secretive.

Whispers from his aides, echoing throughout the cavernous halls of his palatial estates, reveal but a few secrets into the depths of “Mitt’s” Soul. Firstly, I have been assured that he is white. Secondly I have been assured that he is quite wealthy. Thirdly, and most importantly, I have been told unequivocally that he has a devastating right hook that will catch that dastardly Moor completely by surprise.



T. Pawlenty

Perhaps too casually dressed?

Don't let the quivering lip and refusal to make eye contact or speak to large groups fool you, for my spies insist that Mr. Pawlenty is most definitely running for political office.

Before asserting his claim to clash with our current president in epic battle, he spent his days herding sheep somewhere near the Canadian border.

A lifetime of pastoral ease has undoubtedly not prepared Mr. Pawlenty for such rough combat against an obviously unscrupulous foe and his worrisome proximity to a socialist Nanny-State makes me seriously question where his loyalties fall.



S. Palin

The Terror of the Skies

The only woman in the field of contenders, Mrs. Palin spent countless days protecting our golden shores from invasion by our eternal nemesis from the east, the Russian Orthodox Church. After embarking a ritual arctic safari known only as “Ke’eeeerla’” with J. McCain, her former running mate, Mrs. Palin returned from the tundra after three months, covered in nothing but dried blood and a freshly hewn leather suit. McCain could not be reached for comment.

Since that date, numerous disappearances have been reported around Mrs. Palin’s Artic Snow Fortress. No trace of the missing can be found despite exhaustive search and rescue missions by the Alaskan police. Mrs. Palin herself says that she is at a loss to explain the disappearances or the distinct red, white, and blue aura that now emanates from the part of her property deemed the “Murder Tower.” The Alaskan Inuit tribes-people refuse to leave the safety of their village for fear of what can only be roughly translated as “The She-Orca.”

Like a storm gathering force over an endless sea, Mrs. Palin's powers seem to grow without end. Should her torrential might be unleashed in the electoral Death-Cage, no foe could survive.

R. Paul

Candidate Paul circa 1939

A man after my own heart, Mr. Paul seeks to dissolve the federal government and return control of the peasants to regional lords—the noblest endeavor a politician can undertake.

However, after his latest wrestling match with Supreme Court Justice R.B. Ginsburg, serious questions linger about his agility and flexibility. He’ll have to seriously improve his grappling technique if he wants to win big this election.


M. Bachmann

Mr. Bachmann greeting a reporter

While his unusual style of dress and small stature may seem like detriments, scouting reports from my field agents indicate that this short fellow is possessed of unparalleled ferocity and rabid indiscriminate piety.

I am told that Mr. Bachmann has proposed a series of aggressive initiatives to stimulate domestic job growth. Chief among them, he plans to round up all our nations ne’er-do-wells—scientists, the educated, and anyone whose net worth is less than 20,000 guineas— and grind them into a gelatinous slurry. After allowing an unstipulated amount of time for this brew to ‘settle,’ Mr. Bachmann will carefully portion this concoction into his collection of misshapen homemade bottles and then sell it on the international market as a cure for the The Shakes. When asked how many jobs this might create, Mr. Bachmann responded, “Ego Sum Via Veritas Et Vita!”

If those aren’t the most impeccable credentials to become the President of The United States, then I will relinquish my citizenship here and now!

The waters of electoral fortune are still murky, but rest assured that whoever mounts the pile of bloodied and broken corpses left by the gladiatorial exhibition known as the Republican National Convention will no doubt possess the political guile, keen wit, and merciless haymaker necessary to send that most despicable Sheik Obama home in the only manner fitting such a heinous individual: dead, inside a million tiny orphans, inside a million tiny coffins.