“For me, it is far better to grasp the Universe as it really is than to persist in delusion, however satisfying and reassuring.” — Carl Sagan
THE INAUGURAL ELECTRON COOL TEST
Welcome to the first ever Electron Pencil online blog game show puzzle contest…, thing. I haven’t even come up with a name for it yet.
Hmm, how about the Big Brain Stakes?
Or Pencil Jeopardy?
Nah, that won’t do. What if this blogsite becomes the biggest thing on the interwebs and then the late Merv Griffin’s legal goons come after me with subpoenas and cease-and-desists for stealing their game show name?
I’ve got it — The Electron Cool Test! (h/t to Tom Wolfe).
The Electron Cool Test will become a regular feature of this column. Its rules, prizes, eligibility, and honesty will be whatever I want them to be on the particular day that I run it. Today, for instance, we at the Electron Pencil are calling for all Pencillistas to guess what outrageousness the Republican Party will be capable of in the year 2016.
Who knows? If this thing takes off, I might even devise a neat high-tech way for you all to participate. As it stands right now, we’ll go with the old reliable Comments section.
Read on for today’s First Ever Super-Supercilious, Bombastic, No Trans-fat, Electron Cool Test!
IT’S A MAD, MAD, MAD, MAD PARTY
So, here’s the background for our first Electron Cool Test.
Who among the great mass of broad-minded, attractive, and intelligent readers of The Electron Pencil could ever have foreseen what the Republican Party has become in this year of our lord, 2012?
Honestly, the POG is warning the trusting ovines of this holy land that a second term for President Obama will enable him and his blackshirts to seize all our guns, hand the US Capitol over to radical imams, stifle the voices of the likes of Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity, and redistribute all our hard earned money to black men, slutty women, and homosexual abortionists.
“Huh? What? Homosexual Abortionists? Save Us, Party Of God!”
Much of this nightmare was brilliantly recapped by Jon Stewart Wednesday night.
Stewart, of course, was making jokes. Haha. The really funny thing is, the candidates for the presidential nomination of The Party Blessed By The Creator Of The Universe are actually saying these things.
Well, three of the four of them. Ron Paul, bless his weird heart, isn’t engaging in such verbal hijinks — but, then again, he’s not really a Republican. No, Paul is a Libertarian, which frightens even Republicans, believe it or not. That’s like Godzilla, Mothra, and Rodin shuddering in their Manolo Blahniks at the site of some bizarre new beast from the planet Zpltfik.
Godzilla: “Didja See That!?”
Rodan: “Oh, My Heavens!”
Anyway, the three real Republicans scream about the monster black man under the bed until their voices are raw, then other, minor POG-ers take over, as Stewart so capably points out.
The Republicans at this point in time are certifiably insane.
And, honestly, when Rep. Bob Morris (R-Indiana) started calling the goddamned Girl Scouts a “radicalized” organization, did you need any more evidence that the party of Lincoln and Taft had now become the cast from “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”?
Rick Santorum’s Cabinet
Okay, now that we’ve got that settled, let’s have a little fun with it. Let’s try to imagine what Republicans will be saying in 2016 when they are choosing their standard bearer to battle Chelsea Clinton for the presidency.
Hail To The Chief
First off, who will the rising young Republican be? Marco Rubio? Todd Young? Ivanka Trump?
And who will be the wily old veterans still hoping the claw their way into the White House? Definitely Newt Gingrich. And Mitt Romney. And, hell, Rick Santorum as well. Come on, it’s a lock all three will still want to win the big one.
Oh, and Chuck Norris. Can’t forget him.
Early Frontrunners: Chuck, Marco & Ivanka
Now, the secret to playing this first Electron Cool Test is to let your imagination run wild. If I were to suggest to you four years ago that a major party candidate for president would accuse the incumbent of plotting to wage war on the Catholic Church, you’d have said, Aw, you’re delirious.
See? Let yourself be delirious. How can you go wrong?
I’ll start. Um, uh, let’s see…, oh! I’ve got it! Back in high school, Chelsea appeared in a production of “The Nutcracker.”
That’s it! Chuck Norris will say that proves she was sympathetic to the Russian commies from her earliest days. “If this country elects Chelsea Clinton president in November,” he’ll warn, “the next day, a new, resurrected Soviet Union will rise in Washington!”
Later, he’ll call for the banning of all Christmastime productions of “The Nutcracker” because, after all, it was written by that stinkin’ red, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky.
“The Nutcracker” — Subversive
Norris will mispronounce all three names, endearing him to millions of voters.
Wait, wait, here’s another.
Marco Rubio will react to news that researchers have developed a new, super-strong anti-viral drug that virtually cures genital herpes. Rubio will call for the drug to be outlawed saying, “Anyone who has genital herpes obviously has engaged in sex at some time in their lives. They should be made to suffer for it. It is clear that these drug researchers are dangerous radicals.”
Do you get the game now? It’s easy!
The Scarlet Canker
One more. The New York Times will unearth the news that Ivanka Trump keeps a stable of young children on a remote work farm in South Central New Jersey. Other media outlets will report that she harvests the tykes’ hormones and has it injected into her in an effort to maintain her youthful looks.
The revelations will cause an uproar among Democrats and those few Republicans who retain vestigial traces of human emotion. They call for her to withdraw from the race. She refuses.
“I am a job-creator,” Ivanka protests. “This is trickle-down economics at its finest. If it weren’t for my special farm for these precious children, they’d be homeless. They might even starve. My opponents would like them to receive welfare, which would be the real tragedy.”
Ivanka will go on to market the childrens’ hormones. By the time of the Republican National Convention in August, women across the country will be purchasing Trump’s Essence of Tot at $24.99 for six milliliters, available at all CVS and Rite-Aid stores.
“Hooray For Our Owner, Dear Ivanka!”
The eventual Republican candidate, Chuck Norris, will pledge to name Ivanka his Secretary of Commerce and Child Labor.
Okay? Now it’s your turn.
HOW TO PLAY
Let yourself go, players. Submit your ideas about what the Republicans will be saying in four years.
The winning entry will be selected by me as soon as I get around to it. I’ll treat the winner to a specialty drink at Soma Coffee on a Saturday morning of my choosing.
Simply go up to the top left hand corner of this page, click the Leave a Comment link…
… and then type in your entry. It can be a simple slogan, a paranoid accusation, or a drawn-out dystopian scenario. In any case, don’t let logic, reason, or restraint hamper you — after all, the Republicans never do!
I really enjoy your posts. However I am submitting that the radicalized Republicans will be doused in the flames of their rhetoric and will become a minor player for some years to come due to their own stupidity. It will be years before they are trusted again. This is my delusion and I’m sticking to it.
Having been solidly drubbed in the 2012 election, the Republicans need to regroup in 2016. The Tea Party got a little too uppity and did them in. They know this now and look to other conservative heroes to stem the tide of peace, prosperity and liberal thinking that the Obama administration has advanced. Mitch Daniels gets out from under his long-suffering wife’s disapproval and throws his hat into the Presidential ring. Much to the pleasure of the “sensible” Republicans and pundits on Morning Joe, he tours the country in his “Man of the People” bus clad in his plaid flannel shirts to once again hoodwink the voters into thinking he really gives a damn. Knowing that short presidential candidates never win, he assures his adoring right wing public that he is really 6 feet tall and starts using cleverly designed stilts in public appearances. The true believers believe in the miracle of his growth spurt and are happy to ignore his beady little eyes and bald dome. Donald Trump is called in for some hair consultations. Our Man Mitch taps the affable Chris Christy as his running mate, and the Hoosier state meets the Jersey Shore in an offbeat but credible pairing. With obscene amounts of Super Pac money, Mitch and Chris manage to eak out a win over Chelsea Clinton. Chelsea got swiftboated for her strong commitment to pro-choice and civil rights following four years of increasing well-being and prosperity for women and minorities under the Obama administration. Life was just too darned good for the sluts, prostitutes, gays, school teachers, health care providers, laborers and Girl Scouts, so something had to be done to shut the radical Ms. Clinton down! Lies were told and things got ugly. The newly elected team of Daniels and Christy immediately begin slashing and burning social service and safety net programs in the name of righteous conservative fiscal necessity and economic development. Public schools fail, poverty rates soar, elders beg in our streets, the sick go without care, children are wild in the streets, the soup and bread lines are long and pestilence spreads throughout the land. Prez Daniels and Veep Christy and their budget analysts in their golden gated communities claim statistical victory asserting that it was long past time America did something about over-population, The Catholics chafed a little about this position, but quickly came into line once they were assured that every sperm is sacred, just not so much after it develops into a living, breathing, sinful, entitled American. Still wary of the lurking Tea Party, the new Prez and Veep keep pacifying the wing nuts clinging to the Right to Life platform while doing everything in their power to thwart life, love, natural resources and everything that makes life worth living. All in the name of the Holy Balanced Budget, we find ourselves in a sexless, artless, colorless, intellectually starved country and all is as it should be in GOP America. Mitt Romney is still living high on the hog and continues to strap his dog to the top of his car while vacationing in Michigan – the place where the trees that remain are just the right height. He has, however, stopped singing America the Beautiful.
Sweet dreams, Pencillistas, and keep hope alive! OK, back to re-reading the Handmaids Tale…..